I was running through a beautiful field of all the colours in the rainbow, friends surrounding me, the wonderful atmosphere lifting my mood.
The sun shined high in the sky on this cloudless day,
How sorrowful clouds can be, I thought. They weep. They sob. Their tears splash thunderously on the muddy, muddy, ground.
But sometimes, they're lovely majestic balls of fluff, like cotton candy. They seem to float in the blue sky carelessly, like a child on an adventure.
That's how I wish to be. Free. Free to run, run, fast as I can and as far as the winds could take me.
Sometimes I run. I run as far as I can go. Right now I am running. Running to catch the wind. Running to attempt to get rid of that horrible restless monster that seems to grow somewhere deep inside of me. Trying to rid of the awful feeling of being trapped inside my own shell of a body. Unable to escape.
Oh, how much that monster inside me tries to drag me down. And oh, how many times I have fallen down to its commands.
The feeling was gone, only for a millisecond.
I felt free. I felt happy. I felt like I knew all the answers. I felt like nothing could ever hold me back from my own self. I was truly in touch with everything, my surroundings. I was the ruler of myself, my feelings, not anything or anyone else. I could do whatever I wanted.
Then I blinked, and the friends around me began to fade away, melting like they were only ice cream under a hot, hot sun.
Then the lovely flowers and blossoms began to cripple into to dust. The once beautiful summer sky turned to and awful grey, thundering on top of me, everywhere. Clouds, returned. They were not in well state. They began to weep, pouring all of their sadness and sorrow onto me.
Everything was peeling away, as if to reveal its true colours.
My legs wobbled, I could no longer run. I fell to my knees, on the now muddy ground, and now twinned with the clouds, sobbing.
My ugly, horrible, disgusting hands which I felt no longer attached to was now holding my forehead as if to keep my mind from collapsing.
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Short StoryI enjoy writing these short stories representing a problem I deal with, or a world problem, kind of like writing my feelings and thoughts in a journal only it's a more symbolic and indirect way if that makes sense. hope someone can relate to these...