A Crestfallen Tale

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
The difference between being born happy and dying sad is the fact that in between, something goes wrong, and no matter how hard you try, sometimes that's just how it is. There is no other way about it. This short... thing is told from the perspective of a women who lost everything she loved, including her sanity, so she took her own life in hope that the pain will end.

"Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one."
-Albert Einstein

Submitted: January 06, 2012

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Submitted: January 06, 2012

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They left, so soon. Disappearing into the ethereal light, as luminescent as the moon on lake water. She did not see them slip by, did not see them go. They left without leaving a imprint, something to remember them by. Because in all the sadness and devastation, they did not think that she could take the sorrow.

Maybe her mind grew fragile after that. Maybe it frayed at the edges and cut deep into her anxiety. Might she be blinded by her own hazy daydream? Surely not, for this girl was made of stone, her heart stronger than the weathered rock on the mountains. Although they left her, and took everything that she had clung onto, it was all still a dream. A dream from which she would never wake, unless her slumber dwellings were in hell. And who would want to wake up in hell, on the edge of what used to be, and what is now? It seems preposterous to think, that just because they left her drowning in a sea of her own accusations and prophecies, everything is still just worth fighting for.

The last remnants of her painful coma slipped away into the dew-laden morning. Sparrows and robins chirped all about her, talking their own hidden language in the dense treetops. Mist hung low above the ground, moisture dampening every object that came into touch. There was no escaping it. Everything seemed a dull grey colour, apart from the small pond behind her, which shone a deep blue and a clear, beautiful green. Golden-amber fish swam their furious tails off beneath the heavy lillypads. She lay there, dressed in a white frock. It would have been such a wonderful frock too, if it weren't for the frayed ends that showed dismay and neglect. Stains of an unrecognizable nature filled the lace, creating an artist's palette impression.

Her eyes opened, blinking in the sharp sunlight as it filtered through the thick clouds. Shapes, differing in colour and size, bobbled and wavered in her peripheral vision. A small little flutter of breath erupted out her lungs, and it left her feeling guilty.

They had left her.

They didn't even care.

Who would ever care?
She lifted her heavy self of the sodden grass the weight of the material nearly dragging her back down again. She was lost in a torrent of sadness, one of which was almost impossible to penetrate. Everyone always left her.

Everything was a blurred, hazy mess. Nothing seemed quite right, like it was actually there. It all seemed such a horrible, cruel lie. The way human kind roll around in their self pity. This girl was an alien, something that should never be tolerated. Her feelings and emotions were different. She was a such a heavy, weightless soul. She defied the laws of the way the human brain works, interpreted something that could never be experienced by somebody else.

If she should rid herself from this Earth, who would remember her tomorrow?

Nobody.


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