Shore ( A Modern Fantasy Beach Action Adventure)

Prologue

                                                                                            Act 1

                                                                                          Emitter

     In the dark, someone sits at a desk, papers sprawled all over, with many crumpled up. The person chews on the end of the pen as a finger taps a slow melody on the desk. With a new paper, the person starts to write.

Hey,

     I'm not really sure how to start this off. To be honest, this is my eighth time writing this, and I am not sure how to describe this without looking like a coward in your eyes. I know that for the past few weeks, it may have seemed that I have been avoiding you—avoiding everyone, really. Please don't take this personally.

     I feel like I won't be able to justify my actions in this letter. When you walk out of your room, you won't find me here anymore. You will find most of my stuff gone. Anything I have left there is yours now. Take it as an apology gift. Everything I will take with me has already been moved earlier today. You didn't make it easy to sneak out. I had to use every trick in the book to get the stuff out of here.

     I know what I am doing is selfish. I just can't stay here and see the damage I've caused. Everyone says they're fine, or they can get through it. I know they are lying. I have been in their shoes. The feeling is merciless. It feels like the light inside is slowly being snuffed out.

     I can't watch that happen to them, and I can't be the reason why it's happening. Especially not to you. The pain you are going through must be unimaginable. You were so brave this time. I never saw you cry—not once. Though just because I didn't see it doesn't mean I don't know you have.

     I love you. I don't want to see your life shackled down with the weight of both of us. I want you to be able to see the world and live the life you want without worrying about me. It's too late for me. So push me back in your mind and know I am happy.

     I am going to miss everyone, but mostly you. I'm sorry I can't say any of this to your face. Please live happy.

     The paper is folded and creased. It is stuffed into an envelope and sealed shut. A backpack is thrown over a shoulder as the person walks into the hallway. The wooden floors creak, and the entire place is dark. The person looks out the window to see that outside matches the darkness inside.

     The person bends down and slides the envelope under the adjacent door. Their hand trembles. The person walks toward the front door, sees a picture hanging in the living room, and feels guilt seeing their reflection in the glass. "Coward" runs through the person's mind. The picture is stuffed in the backpack as the person walks through the front door.