UNDER A dark and oppressive sky, flames swayed to the solemn requiem of the wind. On the surface of each candle, melted wax trickled like the droplets of warm tears which outlined the faces of those who had been untimely left behind.

The loved ones had gathered together; they tangled limbs with one another—heads on shoulders, arms around torsos, hands rubbing backs—each contact meant to ail the cold void in their existence which had been cruelly and abruptly imposed onto them by reality.

In time, the tears have dried and the candles they lit for the one that once warmed their hearts burned out. But even then, within each of them, something much greater continued to steadily burn—a soul battered by the feelings of helplessness and sorrow, but this time becomes fueled by a flaring desire for justice which may not bring back the pink of his cheeks, the red of his lips, the warmth of his skin and the light in his eyes, but could, at least, prevent someone else from losing theirs. F MARIA ANTOINETTE A. MALICSE

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