The Boy who wished the Sky would fall

Restarting a pretty big story I had in mind. This is intended to be the first part of the story - not a prologue, but a sort of prelude.

There once was a boy who dreamed of touching the clouds. He wanted nothing more.

Every night he would look up and see stars twinkling, and the moon shining bright.

He prayed and prayed that one day, he could walk up into the sky.

Years passed. Yet he never stopped dreaming; always wanting to rise up from the ground.

Silence greeted his prayers. Perhaps he was never destined to get his wish.

But still, he shouted out his pleas to the night sky. Night after night, he pleaded.

The world kept moving forwards, even though he couldn't. He wouldn't let go.

Now he was a man, who knew better. But still, he wanted to fulfil his childhood dream.

One night, in Winter, he shouted out at the night sky, "Why won't you listen?!"

A voice whispered in the wind, "You can have your wish... If it makes you happy..."

And so the sky fell. The clouds descended down to Earth.

The world started to suffer. Animals went insane. Plants shrivelled up. People panicked.

The world was beginning to suffocate. Everything was dying. But the man had his wish.

He travelled to the tallest building, and finally touched a cloud. His hand tingled.

Joy filled up his heart, until he looked down. He saw what his dream had done.

He had nowhere to shout up to, so he yelled out over the world.

"Why must it be like this? What have you done?"

Nobody answered, but deep down he knew. The wind brushed him without whispering.

He saw that it was his dream. His dream was that all would die so that the sky could fall.

And fall it did. Now what? The dream felt hollow now. It was a nightmare.

Looking down upon the ruined world below, full of death, he had only one choice.

It was clear as day to him. Everything had only ever been leading to this one moment.

He jumped.

And then, there was nothing.

The End

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