Photograph

This short story, or rather a short moment in the story Back From The Dead, was based on the song Photograph by Nickelback. It brought up a lot of emotions about memories of the past, my friends and our stupid antics in our youth, the fun we had... And so I channelled that into a little story. It's not very long, but I did put as much emotion as I could into it, so be gentle with this one please?
Anyways, without any further ado, Photograph.

~

Sam held a photo of the four of them as little kids. Zeke was tall and skinny as always, Rayne had short hair back then, but it was just as fiery as it is today. Her braces gave her a geeky look, but in a cute way. Then there she was, she was always a little short, and in the oversized blue hoody, she looked even smaller than usual. Blue hoody? Then she remembered just whose it was, and he stood behind her in the photo. Xaren was only eleven, but he was already showing the earliest signs of muscle. His electric blue eyes sparkled with childish mischief and his hair had yet to darken to his more recent dirty blonde look. A warm tear rolled down her cheek as all the happy memories came flooding back. Playing catch by the creek, truth or dare during those late night camping trips and daring Xaren to kiss her on the cheek. That age of childish innocence was over too quickly. The eleven year old boy in the photo grew into a kind, honest, good-hearted man that died saving the world. How she wished these days were as they once were, all they ever worried about was who was 'it' when they played tag. "I really miss you Xaren. You were my best friend and so much more. Things really won't be the same ever again, no matter how much I wish they were." As the tears fell and her body began to shudder, a smile came to her face. "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." Two pairs of arms wrapped her in a tight embrace.  "I'd give anything to bring him back." "We all would, sweety."
There the three friends sat, consoling each other. Seated on the ledge, a figure in black armour sat, his head hung low. A lone tear made its way down his cheek and dropped into his palm.