Sad

Tom65

I don't post around here much, and this is my first time posting in Creative Writing, so be gentle and such

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His room had become a dark, eerie place. He had spent the last week in there, with photographs of happier times. The room had by now filled with his sadness, his tears, his agony. Tortured, he rooted through the old shoeboxes, which had been damped over the years. Every grey, peeling photographs pained him, like a knife in the gut, and every one inspired a million wishes for her to come back. The candles he lit refused to give light, and still he was forced to lie alone in darkness, wishing.

Life had become this room, with no exit. The phone rang every hour or so, with friends apologising for things they didn’t do, wishing him better, and spouting empty sentiments. A knock on his door would come once or twice a day, his sister most likely but he wasn’t sure. He would blanket himself in darkness and ignore her pleas. She didn’t matter, nor did his friends. How could they know the suffering he had? Indeed, suffering was all he had. Without his beloved, what was left? An empty shell of man, left to stagger through the rest of his life unaided and alone. Often, he looked around the vast apartment, and everything reminded him of her. Broken glass was scattered across the floor, and his feet had become bloodied. Not that it mattered. Hell, nothing mattered. He had nothing. And nothing can come of nothing. He was a void of a man. Empty was his gaze, his face, his hands, his everything.
Occasionally, his thought would move from the one he lost, to what he never found: God. What a cruel, indifferent God he was ruled by. How could he take the one person he loved? Was it part of his plan to force such grief upon him? How was a simple man to fathom such cruelty and callousness? God was indeed a different being if he could carry out an act of such ignominy.
Once again, he felt the salt of his tears streaming down his cheeks, burning every piece of skin it covered. The pain was now unbearable. He screamed but no sound emerged. He began throwing chairs, tables, smashing anything that could be smashed. Why? Why was he forsaken? How could she leave him? He stood up, breathing heavily and shaking. He laid a hand on the door for a moment, thinking. He then withdrew, taking a few steps backwards. He stared, dead eyed, at the door for what seemed like the longest of times. He ran. Hitting the door with a another scream, the pain seared through him. Once again, he took several steps backwards and repeated this over and over, until the door began to loosen. Finally it broke, and he went through, the bright light of the hallway startling him for a moment. He refused to catch his breath, and began running, every step sending a tremble up through his leg. Out of the building, he kept running. He didn’t know what time it was or what day it was, but there were few people on the streets. He ran for miles until he came to a cliff, collapsing at its edge. He peered down its steep side, watching the pebbles tumble down, hitting and bouncing until the finally came to rest at the bottom. He rolled over, with his back on the ground, and looked at the sky. “Where is she? Where…”, he trailed off into thought, “God gave the land such beauty, and took my only as payment. It was not worth it. It was not worth all the peaks, the lakes, the skies and sand. I need her more than I need them. I need her more than I need life”. He punched the ground out of sheer anger. He climbed a tree that edged over the cliff, and sat on a branch that grew clear of the ground. The waves hammered below. “How easy it would be for this branch to break. How easy it would be for me to plummet. To live so much and die at the same time”, he thought.

By the time he had staggered back to his apartment, weary and with the world distorted through his tears, it was dark. He came in and again cut his foot on the glass that covered the floor. For the first time, he felt a tinge of pain. He moved into the bathroom and surrounded himself with photographs. He turned on every tap in the room, not knowing fully why. He then closed and locked the door. There was no way in or out now. He sat, staring at himself in the mirror. The shallow eyes, for the first time in days, had meaning. He finally realised he was alive, and this was neither a dream nor a nightmare. He could not escape into darkness or pain. He turned off the light, and lit a match. This time it burned into the back of his eyes and he could see. He then picked up his razor blade and looked into the broken mirror. He stared for several moments, and then turned his back. He cut himself as he fell to the ground, finally happy, as a beautiful light welcomed him.

airetam_storm

I only stumbled across this forum and reading this i discovered a new dimension to boards. This sorta stuff should be seen and if made longer, published even. Congrats Tom hope u'l follow this one up

\edit\Ooo good idea, forum can go in sig, some a guys over in Computers>Tweaking/Modding will see it, an its always good to have obsessing geeks trailing after every piece