supposed retribution

Two brothers, far off the shores. Sailing into the void. Away from the barbarity of the soldiers. The younger one dips his hand in the chilly current, a feeling which had been tempting him forever now. "I'm here for you, and you for me. We're gonna get through this", says the wise one, who was on the verge of turning sixteen but had to face the ugliness at a far more tender age. 

At the age of six, he had witnessed the tormenting demise of his parents. Locked in a car, being engulfed by nature, drowning. He stood by the lake and watched, as if his feet were clutched vigourously by the unbaptised infants escaping from the limbo. His brow, frozen still into a frown of unacceptance. It was that day, when he was left to pieces for the world to feed on. That day, he saw the devil in the lake. In his own reflection. Staring back at him, as if it was taunting the frown on his face. Becoming the breaking sunshine through the crack in the dark clouds consuming the day, he was determined to shield his brother from the world and the day did come. The day he would fail on.

They were alone and yet there was a lingering ringing in his ear. "Do you hear that sound too?" questioned the younger one while being captivated by the lasting wavering of the water upon his hand's movement. Abruptly, a jolt hit their meager-planked boat which was followed by an immediate elevation of their chins. Up and onto the wrath of nature, standing upright in front of them. A sudden pulsating vibration rushed through the older one's temples and a trickle of sweat emerged forth as he death gripped the small steel railing holding the jute ropes. "Thunderclouds!", was the last word roared by the brothers as their boat was ripped apart by a stringent current wave produced by the howl of the thunder upon the sea. 

As the clouds passed, he lay still on the surface. Afloat, like a body deprived of it's soul. Staring at the shooting star. Wanting to do nothing. An enigmatic chuckle took over his face as he held hands with the devil once again. Afloat beside him. "It's all going to be okay. Just focus on my fingers." It mirrored the trail of the shooting star on his hand so as to make him experience what sight felt like again. 

twinkle twinkle, a star has fallen,

it's way too late and I must go to bed; 

twinkle twinkle, my eyes are red,

oh no, oh my, that star is dead.