Endings

            It is at the end that all stories, for life is made up of them, find their true state of being. It is not possible to really perceive something until it has ended. It is in endings that we find both sadness and joy, we find a sense of profound loss and also a sense of gaining something. It is in the endings that we feel the wash of every emotion we have felt throughout cascade upon us, and it can bring tears or laughter, smiles or frowns, can lighten your heart or make it weight more than a million tons.

            It is the ending that makes you contemplate all the places the story has taken you and all the things that you felt. The ending is a crescendo of emotion that can be both overwhelming and yet satisfying, it’s the feeling of lying down after hard work, of returning home after a long journey or of having a great amount of worry lifted from your shoulders.

            In short it is the ending of things that will leave them in your mind for the rest of your life, not necessarily because they’ll make you remember what happens during the process of the story ending, but because they make you remember all the points where you felt elated or crushed during the story, every time you didn’t know if the hero would make it, or when you felt suspense for what would come next, when you just couldn’t wait to turn that page.



            That, in essence, is an ending.

So this is yet another short passage/micro story thing that I came across while searching my old blog for content to transfer over. The original explanation text said that I had just finished reading the last book in a series and was feeling a little overwhelmed, so I sat down and just wrote what popped into my mind. For better or worse here it is. 

...and Then it Started Raining.

It was quite impressive just how depressing my life has gotten lately. It felt like the small box that passed for my studio flat was trapping me every morning when I woke up, the dull grey light of an english spring softly filling the room.

I stood sulking on my roof, a half smoked cigarette drooping from my mouth. Everyday I smoked here, always trying to work up the courage to finally throw myself off, never getting within an arms reach of the precipice.

That day was different though, I had finally managed to shuffle my bare feet till my toes hung over the edge. The wing threatened to pull me off the edge, but I managed to resist it. It was successful in flinging the remains of my cigarette through the sky.

I watched it spin away, the embers breaking apart and dancing on the breeze. In that second I wanted to chase it. I really felt like drifting off the roof after it. I began to take that step. My foot hovered over nothingness...and then it started to rain.

Every drop kissed my skin, every shining tear smacked the ground, the sound of thousands of tiny footsteps. The rain marched through the city, washing away it's grime and gloom. The plague of people was cleansed from the streets as they rushed to avoid the horror that was water falling from the sky, and as the rain caressed my naked torso I fell backwards onto the hard gravel of the roof, and started laughing.

I'm not really sure what I was trying to do with this story, I just found it on my old blog when I was migrating my creative writing content. It is obviously quite short, being only 5 paragraphs long and really not having a direction or meaning, I think I was just experimenting with the concept of micro-stories.