Statue

Out Came the Sun and Dried Up All The Rain

Yeah, third installation.

Sorry it's late, dudes. And this chappie is going to be short.

Don't own any Creepypasta except mine.

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Out came the sun...

The little boy waited.

He waited until the cement surrounding him was hardened.

He couldn't wait to move, to see his new body form.

But wait...

What if he can't move? What if he was alive, but he can't move his limbs? What if-

...What if he would be starved to death? What if he died of dehydration? This was his second chance of living, he cheated death, and he wasn't going to waste that chance.

The little boy wanted to start again, start a new life, even if he had to break through the stupid cement that covered his body.

And plus, he never got to say thank you.

To his mother, for putting up with him for six long years. To his uncle, for being understanding for his childishness and annoyingness. And, to his...

To his father.

He never knew his father, but he knew that he took great care of his mother. He knew that he was kind, he was generous, and he was patient. Everything a good husband and dad should be.

But the lies clouding the truth about his father was what kept his innocence, his goodness.

What he doesn't know would most probably hurt him, right? His so-called 'family' had thought.

Such foolishness would soon be regretted after the deed was done. After it was too late, after the demon had claimed his soul.

As the little boy was thinking to himself, a bright light shone upon the crowd. The small child had to close his eyes from the rays of the sun.

Close his eyes? He can't move, or can he?

And dried up all the rain...

The sunshine laid heat on the earth. It dried up the remaining wet cement on the little boy.

He wanted to move, but was not sure if he could. He did not know much of the human anatomy, but he did know that cement was not meant to stick on humans.

The little boy wanted to test his theory; if he was still alive, then maybe he had a chance. He needed to start small.

His fingers...

Yes, that's a good start.

The small limbs start twitching, he could feel them trying to push through the cement. But, instead of breaking through, it moved along with them.

The cement stuck to his skin, all of it. No, it didn't stick, he became the cement.

He was a live, breathing, walking, talking...

Statue.

His eyes were no longer the soft, and caring hazel ones they used to be. They are now rock-hard, gray and dull.

No excitement, no happiness, no warmth. No emotions, no expressions, and most certainly no family.

All he wanted was a good life, even just a small chance at survival. Instead, what he got was the complete opposite. He was interwined with a horrible fate, and something inside him snapped.

This little boy had finally lost his innocence.