Rain Of Return
No big plot. It holds the emotions I shed when I wrote it, though they may have dried up.
It was raining outside. I stared into the falling tears of the sky. No matter how I tried, my eyes kept straying away from my mountain of work.
With an effort, I dragged my head towards the script I had to finish. Usually, I never felt this invisible string between my eyes and the rain stay so strong. It was as if another subject of my desire had merged with the rain and was pulling me away from the "Great Mountain".
My heart was numb, my mind was scolding the person who set the theme for this year's competition. Not one part of me could figure out a way to relate murder with love without offending teachers and straying from originality. Not to mention preventing disqualification for improper conduct on stage. Everything that I had done seemed ridiculous. Hollow words with neither filling nor feeling.
I turned away from the half empty page grumpily. I got up and ventured into the kitchen for my one hundredth cup of chocolate malt drink. I was desperate for inspiration, I couldn't care less about my sugar concentration.
I sat down on the sofa with the warmth of my cup spreading through my skin. Still my eyes were pulled towards the rain.
Then, it hit me.
My lovely brain, how I loved it, how I adore it. I had forgotten something but my unconscious mind rang a bell of reminding.
However, what did I forget? I wondered, every part of me was now dying to know. I was almost drowned in the workload, I could remember neither sadness nor happiness. I only kept going for the sake of the competition. All emotions had evaporated from even the deepest depths of me.
Now, my senses were coming back. Yet, the forgotten memory still eluded return.
A car stopped at the front. I put my cup down and rushed outside. I was drenched in the rain. Even the sky had more emotions. And it all seeped into my empty self.
"Stupid, idiot, what are you doing without an umbrella? I feel like the host," he said. So like him, practical with a pinch of humor even when it was clear to both of us umbrellas weren't the case.
Well, color came back to my life, emotions flowed without blockage, my spirit soared when I jumped up and down in happiness. They all came back, just like how Akira, my dearest friend did.
With an effort, I dragged my head towards the script I had to finish. Usually, I never felt this invisible string between my eyes and the rain stay so strong. It was as if another subject of my desire had merged with the rain and was pulling me away from the "Great Mountain".
My heart was numb, my mind was scolding the person who set the theme for this year's competition. Not one part of me could figure out a way to relate murder with love without offending teachers and straying from originality. Not to mention preventing disqualification for improper conduct on stage. Everything that I had done seemed ridiculous. Hollow words with neither filling nor feeling.
I turned away from the half empty page grumpily. I got up and ventured into the kitchen for my one hundredth cup of chocolate malt drink. I was desperate for inspiration, I couldn't care less about my sugar concentration.
I sat down on the sofa with the warmth of my cup spreading through my skin. Still my eyes were pulled towards the rain.
Then, it hit me.
My lovely brain, how I loved it, how I adore it. I had forgotten something but my unconscious mind rang a bell of reminding.
However, what did I forget? I wondered, every part of me was now dying to know. I was almost drowned in the workload, I could remember neither sadness nor happiness. I only kept going for the sake of the competition. All emotions had evaporated from even the deepest depths of me.
Now, my senses were coming back. Yet, the forgotten memory still eluded return.
A car stopped at the front. I put my cup down and rushed outside. I was drenched in the rain. Even the sky had more emotions. And it all seeped into my empty self.
"Stupid, idiot, what are you doing without an umbrella? I feel like the host," he said. So like him, practical with a pinch of humor even when it was clear to both of us umbrellas weren't the case.
Well, color came back to my life, emotions flowed without blockage, my spirit soared when I jumped up and down in happiness. They all came back, just like how Akira, my dearest friend did.
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