She felt her heartbeat rising, her breath drawing faster, her fingers tingling. She saw the red and blue lights painted on the paved road beneath her, standing out against the darkness of the night that enveloped the dying city. A bitterly cold wind disturbed her light brown hair, as the snipers took their positions and a tear trickled down her face. Her hand shook, perhaps from the cold, as she reached down into the pocket of her strikingly green jacket. The distant screams from below barely registered in her mind, but she felt the pulsing fear raging in the men below. She lifted her hand again, enjoying the texture and energy that flowed from the glowing spherical object, the object that spelt doom - or salvation - for those last people that remained inside this city of death.

He whispered quietly to himself, his dry lips and tongue unable to produce more than that, as his steady hand kept the long barrel of his lethal weapon trained on the girl above. The fear of his comrades was reflected in their faces; his heart felt peaceful, even content, immune to the gripping despair that this cursed city had to offer. His death was imminent, no doubt, but even death had to be better than anything this life had to offer. The smell of a rotting corpse floated into his nostrils, and he watched as the girl overhead revealed the detonator. He tightened his grip on the trigger.

Their matching brown eyes met - a brief moment in time, over a long distance - but it was enough. Pandora's box opened for them, and hope flooded into their lives. She felt his peace, he felt her passion, and as their minds dissolved into confusion, she dropped the detonator. The snipers killed her instantly - but her passion now lived on inside the one man who had never felt passion in his life. Her legacy, his life, and hope combined. The city lived on.

There is nothing in this world too evil that it shouldn't be exposed by the light of truth.

Not my picture, for the record.

I'd like to take a moment to introduce a friend of mine, Bekah, who has joined the blogging world. Welcome, Bekah :). Find her blog on my list of links to the right.

It's hard,
hard, not to sit on your hands,
burrow your head in the sand,
hard, not to make other plans
and claim that you've done all you can,
all alone
and life
must go on.

It's hard,
hard, to stand up for what's right
and bring home the bacon each night,
hard, not to break down and cry,
when every ideal that you tried
has been wrong.
But you must
carry on.

Ref:
It's hard,
but you know it's worth the fight,
cause you know you've got the truth on your side,
when the accusations fly.
Hold tight!
Don't be afraid of what they'll say.
Who cares what cowards think? Anyway,
They will understand some day,
some day.

It's hard,
hard, when you're here all alone
and everyone else's gone home.
Harder to know right from wrong
when all objectivity's gone
and it's gone.
But you still
carry on.

'cause you,
you are the only one left
and you've got to clean up this mess.
You know you'll end up like the rest
Bitter and twisted - unless
you stay strong
And you
carry on.

Ref:
It's hard,
but you know it's worth the fight,
cause you know you've got the truth on your side,
when the accusations fly.
Hold tight!
Don't be afraid of what they'll say.
Who cares what cowards think? Anyway,
They will understand some day,
some day.

- Yann Tiersen, Les Jours Tristes

Something I need to do more of.

In other news, I made a sweet ricochet shot off of some power cables into my garbage can with a peach core.

I just had the revelation of the year: If you go in the right direction, you won't get lost.

Fancy that.

P.S. Anyone who's coming to the film festival on the 25th should contact me - we're making a day of it, so if you're interested, send me an email :). KL - don't worry, you're in ;).

Hey everyone, new short film, made on New Year's Eve, is now available on YouTube.