My only aim was to bang out a minimum of 250 words and post it online. I haven't written since school and wanted something to kick start me getting back into it.
Savage clouds frothed at the mouth, spouting rabic deluge across the pitiful streets of Osmond Town. Amidst the chaos reaped by furious, anguished forces of nature, it had never looked more beautiful; the rain had, temporarily, washed away the stench of desperation. The hoi polloi cowered in their homes. Plebeians, incarcerated by an unquenchable thirst for the warm milk that would never again be fed straight to their drooling crevices. I knew I wouldn’t be seen while they busied themselves, wrapping up in duvets and denial.
I’ve never understood why the vast majority of people cling like leeches to the concept of happiness as something that’s attainable. They genuinely seem to believe if they can overcome obstacles – poverty, loneliness – the open arms of utopia await, ready to be crawled into. Me, I bear no such delusions. I pity those who do. In my experience, hope leads only the soul crushing feeling of being filled to the brim with emptiness. Eventually, my body tired of overflowing with emotion. It cracked, and all feeling leaked away on the day I was enlightened. I.
Trying to steer my life towards a transcendental niche that never existed had proven time and time again to be futile; resistance to the all consuming darkness, fruitless. So I did the hardest, easiest thing I’ve ever had to and let go. I plummeted into oblivion - blinding and dark, screaming and silent, empty and finally complete. The day I lost hope was the day I found freedom. The day I embraced the pain the day it stopped hurting.