In the rushed world, in knowing what it coming is never a wise choice. Imminent it forward in the ethnics of it falls deeply into something that is not seen but forever saw through to the end. Let it only move on, never stopping, for what the past was to now comes the future of secrets that will someday be relies as truth or lies, but only to the eyes that see it and lived it.
â€œWhat happen those years back, heâ€™s not . . . what others say he is . . . but lost.â€
â€œIs she alright?â€
â€œEverything up to this point . . . thatâ€™s why . . . but: what reason for me to know?â€
â€œA slight cranium faction; send her.â€
â€œBut than . . . what is there that he needs me to see? And why like this?â€
â€œSheâ€™ll be fine, just a little wind knocked out. You kids did something very brave.â€
â€œNo other reason for that! That must be whatâ€™s . . .â€
â€œTravel only far by seeing this and for those of the past, snake in today and writher the future to nothing.â€
â€œParkland, honey can you hear me?â€
Eyes open slowly to a familiar face and give a tired smile back.
â€œMom, I get it now.â€
â€œWhat happen to him, the man in red, it all makes sense now.â€
Her mother gives a tried sigh, with a calming hand strokes her daughterâ€™s hair, whisper for her to rest. When seeing Parkland go back to resting, her eyes went back to the others by the door, twitching with racked nerves.
â€œYou three are in trouble, Iâ€™ll state that now. Now tell me what is going on here?â€
Upon soon, weakly but surely; falling the world has become, that is how it is, drop one domino, and the rest will follow. With an echo of guilt and mislead words, as just what the past, the now, and the future hold, in its cartouche ways.