My english parable essay I turned in. Original.
All he ever looked for was the truth. His entire life, he dedicated to finding the reason why. Finally the day came when all truth was revealed. He then realized that his whole life had been meaningless without it, but now with the truth known, life became even more meaningless as there was no longer something to search for. With nothing left, all he could do was climb higher into the tree of greenery, towards the clouds. He finally reached the clouds and rose himself gently into them. He sat for a while and then decided to let himself float. He felt free, and all could be seen from the clouds. The pressure from the truth sat below him, below the clouds. Finally he was free.
The clouds dropped him off into the ocean, but he didn’t mind because now he understood that the feeling of past the truth waited for him in the clouds. He would be back, there was no way he couldn’t be, it was now something he needed for life to resume.
The ocean looked cold, but made him quite warm. The ocean looked like something he should sink through, but somehow it held him up. He floated along, over waves—some big, some small. He was alone, but felt like the world was his. The ocean became his liquid confidence. Sometimes, however, the more massive waves would throw him around a bit, but atleast the ocean kept calming him and allowing him to float...for now. He knew soon that he could not trust the ocean as much as the clouds, but atleast the rolling waves, the pure, salty air, gave him a feeling of hope. Suddenly, a huge wave tossed him onto the shore. He washed up against sharp rocks. The consequences of floating on the ocean were worse than he could have imagined. So why was it alright for others to play in the ocean, but not sit on the clouds?
Luckily, the clouds reach down to him on time, right before he’s pulled below forever. The clouds welcome him back home. Their doors swing open and he enters into the glorious hall full of turtle statues. “Welcome home,” the statues whispered as he walked by. The clouds embraced him as family, something he didn’t have back “home”.
He glanced down below, peaking through the clouds. The ocean carried a boat on its harsh waves and he thanked God that wasn’t him, since he had been down moments before. The clouds carried him higher, farther and farther away from the stormy ocean, towards the sun. He glanced up, staring directly into the ball of light. It formed colors in his mind, and allowed flowers to sprout in the midst of such flames. He looked straight ahead in the distance, and saw a sun crawler. It made its way from the sun, down towards the silly boy. “Not the sun crawler…I will surely die.”
“Of course not.” Spoke the sun crawler.
“Surely you must be kidding.”
“Oh, please don’t call me Surely, my name’s Betty.”
“But you look like a man.”
“I am. Betty The Man, join me in the sun.”
“I must stay down below in the clouds. Thanks for the pleasant offer though. And because of you, I’ve found my lost voice!”
And that brings us, to the story of how he lost his voice.
It had been a lonely day, in the hills of Blanka City. He always had lonely days—they were his favorite types of days, after all. But behind the door of Lonely, sat the waiting Betty. “I will take his voice, he does not belong.”
Betty, in spider form, crawled to the boy as a dying coakroach on fire would crawl to a water hole. He flipped the boy upside down onto his spider web of despair.
The boy glanced around—everything looked different, new, and amazing upside down. He liked it. He looked over at the batman action figure. He seemed to be flying upside down!
The boy laughed and gaped at Batman. As his mouth dropped open, his voice fell out of his soul. Seeing this, Betty laughed evily and left. “Your voice is mine!” said Spidey Betty. “It’s all mine! Bahahaha!”
Since then, the boy had been on a quest to reclaim his voice.
Back to reality: The Wicky was a new enemy. Opposite zyborg intelligences from the Middle East has joined up with him and his forces. The stolen voice had been hidden in his quarters. The boy rolled down the entrance hall to the room of The Wicky, dodging a series of lights by hopping between them—he had to remain in the shadows after all. He made it to The Wicky’s door. He unsheathed the axe squeeky toy he had won at a carnival. This was the end.