A Series Of Short Stories

Shooting star

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Shooting star.
He was like the shooting star.
Beautiful even in its darkest day.

He shone bright in the dark, flashing only to the chosen.
Seen only by the observant.
Rare enough to be called a phenomenon.

He cast hope on people who seen him, they pray to be granted a wish.
Yet he was too kind, too pure to not grant them. Leaving himself with nothing.

Nothing at all.

He was fragile, weak, ready to break and still, he kept sacrificing.
Somehow, he managed to held his ground and shone bright, blinding to most people.

He didn't show any sign he was in pain, no frown, no flinch, nothing.
He was busy giving off light he did not remember to give light to himself.

People call him the perfect son.
He put up such a good wall, filled with glitters and rainbows.
He excel at academics, at sports, girls fell for him and a friend material anyone could ask for.

But the eye can't lie.
Look closely.
And you will see a miserable boy crumbling down just at the verge of collapsing .

People failed to notice this.

Over the years, his conflicts and pain built up, so was his ability to hide it.

The perfect mask was born.
Thick and strong, conceiling his true features as a perfect silluette.

No one knew his feelings.

Not his parents.

Not his bestfriend.

Nor his siblings.
.
.
.

He was all alone.

~end~

Thanks to calypsovaldez_ for cover.