Despairing Soul

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Inspired by personal experience, I know I keep writing sad stuff... I feel most inspired when I'm sad. If your wondering why this story has rain too, it rains alot where I come from; It inevitably would have an effect on me. Thanks for reading, hope you like.

Submitted: August 28, 2009

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 28, 2009



 I sighed, sinking back indefinitely onto my bed. Tears were caked onto my face; I hadn’t let her see me cry. In my eyes I saw it as a vile fate; she was painted, painted by the angel of disease. I couldn’t breathe, my stomach was twisted into a knot; every second it wrenched tighter and made breathing a tougher prospect. I felt nauseous, my world was changing and I could do nothing about it.
 A surprised gasp escaped my lips; I looked down to see a cut on my palm. The blood trickled down my wrist, glistening in the light as a tear fell beside it. I had dug my nails into my hands; I didn’t notice. I didn’t care.
 I wanted to cry, but I needed to be strong, like her, like my mum.
 She was beautiful. Her interior makeup had reformed; her strength at this earth shattering time fascinated me. I lacked strength. She lay peacefully sleeping on the couch, her eyes were closed majestically and she breathed soft and fresh. But I knew.
 She was dying, from the inside. Doctors couldn’t help; they didn’t try as hard as I wanted them to. I couldn’t be strong, I tried when I was around her but tears always escaped.
 A heavy clap of thunder interrupted my thoughts, the sky grew dark outside my window and the heavens opened. Rain gushed to the earth faster than light rushed to your eyes. I could see nothing now, the rain grew thicker and all I could do was scream internally.
I sobbed until there was nothing left of me but a shell. I was hollow; I was dying with her because I knew I couldn’t live without her. How could death seem so welcoming? All I wanted was the agony to stop, death could do that. Death would halt the suffering and I could forget in peace and wait for her to join me somewhere disease didn’t exist, somewhere nicer than this heinous earth we live in.
 I was contemplating death, when I heard something that I hadn’t heard in a long time. A long, low note drifted up to me, a violin. A sad, mournful tune drifted around my head and cleared it. My father played once again. He played for her.
 I thought I would cry again, but then I leaned forward and wretched. My stomach emptied and I felt broken. I rolled onto my side and was consumed by exhaustion. The music sent me to sleep, playing the same despairing tune until I sank into the oblivion of sleep.

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