Shokyokudesuka
Rocket (wor)shipper
My aim for this year is to write more, and I've been doing so. I had a few ideas for what to write, but this one was something I REALLY wanted to try out. I wrote a short story and I was wondering if anyone would be willing to read and tell me what they think. Bare in mind that I'm 15 and I haven't done so much writing, but please, be critical if it means helping me to improve it.
If you wish to read it, please find it below.
If you wish to read it, please find it below.
The sky: a vast blanket that wraps itself around the planet; a seemingly endless sea that stretches farther than the eye can see, but also an escape for a burdened soul to look to while they forget about their worries. The clouds, however, were just clutter that blocked the path of the sun on what could've been another scorching summer's day. My job was only disappointing the people below who, for eternity, have shunned and ridiculed my clouds. Each day I would try new ways with my brush, painting my boundless canvas, putting all of the thought and effort in to every stroke, but it wasn't enough. Their lack of appreciation turned me cold, my eager brush now damaged beyond repair, as were my crippled emotions. I had spent my years alone, pacing up and down the new skies I created each day until I grew mentally tired of looking down to witness only rejection and disregard.
Still, I went on. Reluctantly performing the same routine to bother the same people, then watching my work drown in the strong crimson dye of the sunset. I had become hopeless and had finally faced the truth: no one will ever appreciate the clouds.
That was, until, I looked down a second time.
There, by the bank of the glimmering river, stood an individial looking up to the sky, already filled with today's batch of clouds. She would occasionally take a deep breath and her eyes would dart from cloud to cloud while I wondered what she was thinking about. She was tall and fairly slim but had broad shoulders. Her lengthy hair was clean and tied back, allowing me to see her pale and otherwise blemished complexion. Despite having her hands stuffed in her pockets, her overall look was smart. Every now and then I caught her crack in to a half smile while squinting her eyes a little, but every move she made had my complete attention. How the reflection from the river created a dancing pattern on her figure, like it was a doorway to the deeper layers of her soul, I thought it was perfect. It was, after all, the first time I had seen a person looking up towards the clouds. It was too bad that I had become too lost in my thoughts, as before I knew it, she had disappeared from the scene and was nowhere in sight.
The next day commenced with a little more enthusiasm; I had stacked my hopes up to a tower for the girl to visit and look at the sky again. Scanning the constant stream of heads was a tricky task, but there was a feeling that I got from that girl which differed from the rest, and I was positive that I would find her again. Never had I been so positive about anything in my life. Yet, hours passed and my excitement slowly faded to boredom. I had already been through the pain of being dismissed and to sit there and watch the surge of people pass without a care brought all of those feelings back. I was pushing myself - forcing myself to look down on the ones that caused me so much pain, but for what? I was ashamed, not of the girl, but of myself, for making such a big deal of something so insignificant. Although I knew that thinking so negatively would only bring sadness, I couldn't help but let the unbeatable feeling of disappointment fill me. It was then that I realized I had forgotten to do my duty, so while still mourning the loss of an opportunity, I forced myself on to my feet and dragged the brush across the endless, blue canvas. Today my clouds had very little time to bask in the sun which slowly descended towards the horizon. As I carelessly smudged and smeared with my hands, I noticed that the area below was quiet. So quiet, in fact, that I felt something calling me. It was very faint, I couldn't have known what it was, but suddenly, something clicked. I turned quickly, without hesitation, to see none other but the girl, standing in the same place, looking just as she did the day before. The feeling was incredible, like there was already an unbreakable connection between us. It felt like I was home.
Without thinking, I grabbed my brush and began to paint colossal words in to the sky, large enough for the entire city to see. I stood back and worried not about the consequences of trying to communicate with people, but about how she would react. If she would react.
"Are you okay?" The clouds read in an orange tinted font. I stared down, waiting impatiently for a reaction. Her eyes stared right back up, wide and bright, almost like mirrors.
"Yes," she mumbled, though unsure of who the message was for, "what is this?"
A reply. It took a minute for me to come to my senses and pop my bubble of prominent relief, but luckily, she was still stood there when I returned. It was strange, my hands were shaking. Was I nervous, or was I just experiencing a feeling that I was unfamiliar with? If that was the case, I couldn't have possibly given a name to it.
Again, I scribbled, and she replied. We spoke to each other like we'd been close since forever, and as we shared our stories, we realized that we were extremely similar, though from different backgrounds. I found that she was just a student who, although persistently tried her best, didn't feel like she was needed by anyone. That feeling made her sad, and as a result, she distanced herself from making friends. She said that she didn't want to disappoint anyone. I completely understood, although I'd never been able to make friends before.
"Please come again tomorrow." My final words read before the darkness swallowed the city, giving birth to the night.
Without a word, she smiled and nodded before turning and fading in to the dimly lit end of the riverbank.
Every day, the girl would return to the same spot after the area had been evacuated, and we would, for hours, discuss our lives. In the near silence, where we enjoyed each others' company, I would sit back and listen to her humming pleasant melodies. It was calm, I liked it. Every day I would become lost in her words, because to me, every single one was to be treasured. She told me that she was very sociable earlier in her life, but the disapproval of society had slowly beaten her down, made her anxious to voice her opinion or be unique, turned her cold. All she wanted was to be able to make people happy, but she found that, whatever she did, there would always be a flaw that knocked her back down. When she left for the night, I would replay our conversations in my head and the thought of being able to talk more plagued my mind. I thought that, as long as things remained as they were, I wouldn't care if no one else acknowledged the clouds ever again.
It appeared that the feeling I experienced correlated closely to the emotion she called "happiness".
It was fun while it lasted.
Is it possible to describe a feeling worse than being alone? I woke up that day feeling so. It was like I had been stripped of all hope that I had ever held on to all at once, and it made me sick. Forcing myself from the ground was a task, but to paint the clouds? How disgusting. The sky was ready for me, but I was not ready for it. I felt like I would never be ready. Thinking about painting the clouds made me nauseous.
I wondered what had happened to me the night before to make me feel as lost as I did then, but as much as I tried to remember, nothing came to mind. Today, my clouds were grey. I had put very little effort in to them because in all honesty, I did not care. The selfish, cruel beings down below would just have to deal with it. I'd had enough.
The rest of that day was spent sitting idly, thinking only about how much I despised the people, my job and myself. The river showed no reflection besides that from the artificial light of the street lamps. Everything was so colourless, but just as I thought that there was nothing more to see, I noticed someone emerge from the fog which encased the area. She looked up, wearing a slight look of concern on her face, while her eyes still twinkled like perfectly cut stones. She looked rather familiar, but I had seen many people come and go in my days, and although I had never been known to remember a face, I didn't think much of it. She was certainly consistent, though: I'd seen her pass by that same place at the same time almost every day. I almost felt sorry for her.
For some time afterwards, nothing changed. I continued to be cold, but it wasn't like there was anyone to notice that, anyway. People began to make their way through the streets more quickly than usual, presumably because of the thick cloud of freezing fog that would grow as the days progressed. However, I observed that the girl still stood by, despite the piercing coldness of the fog. What a strange girl. Her face did look a little upset, though, and I couldn't help but wonder what was troubling her. She looked somewhat lost, like she was missing something important, there was a gaping hole in her heart.
Then, from the small satchel that she was carrying, she pulled out a contraption which I had never seen before. I couldn't say that I was interested, however I wanted to see the outcome. She rested the unknown item on her lips and held it gracefully, her eyes were shut and her breathing was slow and steady. It came to a halt, and then, as she directed her breathing in to the item, a sound was produced. It was a melody which I felt like I'd heard before. I was aware of music, it was something often played during festivals and occasional events around the city, but never had I heard something so beautiful. All of the hate that had built up inside of me suddenly slipped away as the notes entered my ears. The feeling was indescribable: like someone going out of their way to remind you that they love you after a stressful day. I don't recall being able to think anything, but I know during that moment, I was somewhere else, somewhere happy. Happy. She took me somewhere that I had never been before, but when I came back, it was almost as if I was there all along. I could only compare the sound to the echoed howling of wolves, singing their elegant song atop a misty mountain at night. The once gloomy fog soon dissolved away and warm rays of evening sun replaced it. As it happened, an abundance of purple tinged clouds, in a brilliant rage, wrapped around me and emitted fantastic light, as if I was undergoing a transormation. It was an understatement to say beautiful, more like something truly magnificent that I never thought I was capable of. The girl, aware of her surroundings, brought her wonderful tune to an end, and looked up in awe. All of the emotions that I missed hit me harder than I'd ever felt it before, and we cried until we could no more. We'd broken the code.
See, when I was born, I was programmed with a strict morality code, stating that I, under no circumstances, could communicate with the people down below. If I were to break this rule, I would face adverse mental consequences as a punishment. Since a young age, I was burdened by the treatment of clouds, but I continued every day to do my job and create new and unique clouds to fill the sky each day. I was true to my job, I promised myself that I would never even think about breaking the code, but the day that I came across this girl was the day that my mind changed. I'm sure that I knew what was coming, but from the connection I felt with the girl, I believed that it was well worth the trouble. We could safely and happily spend our remaining days, dancing in my clouds to the her melodies in perfect harmony, exchanging the appreciation that we had worked so hard for.
I was positive that she would come back to save me. Never had I been so positive about anything in my life.
Still, I went on. Reluctantly performing the same routine to bother the same people, then watching my work drown in the strong crimson dye of the sunset. I had become hopeless and had finally faced the truth: no one will ever appreciate the clouds.
That was, until, I looked down a second time.
There, by the bank of the glimmering river, stood an individial looking up to the sky, already filled with today's batch of clouds. She would occasionally take a deep breath and her eyes would dart from cloud to cloud while I wondered what she was thinking about. She was tall and fairly slim but had broad shoulders. Her lengthy hair was clean and tied back, allowing me to see her pale and otherwise blemished complexion. Despite having her hands stuffed in her pockets, her overall look was smart. Every now and then I caught her crack in to a half smile while squinting her eyes a little, but every move she made had my complete attention. How the reflection from the river created a dancing pattern on her figure, like it was a doorway to the deeper layers of her soul, I thought it was perfect. It was, after all, the first time I had seen a person looking up towards the clouds. It was too bad that I had become too lost in my thoughts, as before I knew it, she had disappeared from the scene and was nowhere in sight.
The next day commenced with a little more enthusiasm; I had stacked my hopes up to a tower for the girl to visit and look at the sky again. Scanning the constant stream of heads was a tricky task, but there was a feeling that I got from that girl which differed from the rest, and I was positive that I would find her again. Never had I been so positive about anything in my life. Yet, hours passed and my excitement slowly faded to boredom. I had already been through the pain of being dismissed and to sit there and watch the surge of people pass without a care brought all of those feelings back. I was pushing myself - forcing myself to look down on the ones that caused me so much pain, but for what? I was ashamed, not of the girl, but of myself, for making such a big deal of something so insignificant. Although I knew that thinking so negatively would only bring sadness, I couldn't help but let the unbeatable feeling of disappointment fill me. It was then that I realized I had forgotten to do my duty, so while still mourning the loss of an opportunity, I forced myself on to my feet and dragged the brush across the endless, blue canvas. Today my clouds had very little time to bask in the sun which slowly descended towards the horizon. As I carelessly smudged and smeared with my hands, I noticed that the area below was quiet. So quiet, in fact, that I felt something calling me. It was very faint, I couldn't have known what it was, but suddenly, something clicked. I turned quickly, without hesitation, to see none other but the girl, standing in the same place, looking just as she did the day before. The feeling was incredible, like there was already an unbreakable connection between us. It felt like I was home.
Without thinking, I grabbed my brush and began to paint colossal words in to the sky, large enough for the entire city to see. I stood back and worried not about the consequences of trying to communicate with people, but about how she would react. If she would react.
"Are you okay?" The clouds read in an orange tinted font. I stared down, waiting impatiently for a reaction. Her eyes stared right back up, wide and bright, almost like mirrors.
"Yes," she mumbled, though unsure of who the message was for, "what is this?"
A reply. It took a minute for me to come to my senses and pop my bubble of prominent relief, but luckily, she was still stood there when I returned. It was strange, my hands were shaking. Was I nervous, or was I just experiencing a feeling that I was unfamiliar with? If that was the case, I couldn't have possibly given a name to it.
Again, I scribbled, and she replied. We spoke to each other like we'd been close since forever, and as we shared our stories, we realized that we were extremely similar, though from different backgrounds. I found that she was just a student who, although persistently tried her best, didn't feel like she was needed by anyone. That feeling made her sad, and as a result, she distanced herself from making friends. She said that she didn't want to disappoint anyone. I completely understood, although I'd never been able to make friends before.
"Please come again tomorrow." My final words read before the darkness swallowed the city, giving birth to the night.
Without a word, she smiled and nodded before turning and fading in to the dimly lit end of the riverbank.
Every day, the girl would return to the same spot after the area had been evacuated, and we would, for hours, discuss our lives. In the near silence, where we enjoyed each others' company, I would sit back and listen to her humming pleasant melodies. It was calm, I liked it. Every day I would become lost in her words, because to me, every single one was to be treasured. She told me that she was very sociable earlier in her life, but the disapproval of society had slowly beaten her down, made her anxious to voice her opinion or be unique, turned her cold. All she wanted was to be able to make people happy, but she found that, whatever she did, there would always be a flaw that knocked her back down. When she left for the night, I would replay our conversations in my head and the thought of being able to talk more plagued my mind. I thought that, as long as things remained as they were, I wouldn't care if no one else acknowledged the clouds ever again.
It appeared that the feeling I experienced correlated closely to the emotion she called "happiness".
It was fun while it lasted.
Is it possible to describe a feeling worse than being alone? I woke up that day feeling so. It was like I had been stripped of all hope that I had ever held on to all at once, and it made me sick. Forcing myself from the ground was a task, but to paint the clouds? How disgusting. The sky was ready for me, but I was not ready for it. I felt like I would never be ready. Thinking about painting the clouds made me nauseous.
I wondered what had happened to me the night before to make me feel as lost as I did then, but as much as I tried to remember, nothing came to mind. Today, my clouds were grey. I had put very little effort in to them because in all honesty, I did not care. The selfish, cruel beings down below would just have to deal with it. I'd had enough.
The rest of that day was spent sitting idly, thinking only about how much I despised the people, my job and myself. The river showed no reflection besides that from the artificial light of the street lamps. Everything was so colourless, but just as I thought that there was nothing more to see, I noticed someone emerge from the fog which encased the area. She looked up, wearing a slight look of concern on her face, while her eyes still twinkled like perfectly cut stones. She looked rather familiar, but I had seen many people come and go in my days, and although I had never been known to remember a face, I didn't think much of it. She was certainly consistent, though: I'd seen her pass by that same place at the same time almost every day. I almost felt sorry for her.
For some time afterwards, nothing changed. I continued to be cold, but it wasn't like there was anyone to notice that, anyway. People began to make their way through the streets more quickly than usual, presumably because of the thick cloud of freezing fog that would grow as the days progressed. However, I observed that the girl still stood by, despite the piercing coldness of the fog. What a strange girl. Her face did look a little upset, though, and I couldn't help but wonder what was troubling her. She looked somewhat lost, like she was missing something important, there was a gaping hole in her heart.
Then, from the small satchel that she was carrying, she pulled out a contraption which I had never seen before. I couldn't say that I was interested, however I wanted to see the outcome. She rested the unknown item on her lips and held it gracefully, her eyes were shut and her breathing was slow and steady. It came to a halt, and then, as she directed her breathing in to the item, a sound was produced. It was a melody which I felt like I'd heard before. I was aware of music, it was something often played during festivals and occasional events around the city, but never had I heard something so beautiful. All of the hate that had built up inside of me suddenly slipped away as the notes entered my ears. The feeling was indescribable: like someone going out of their way to remind you that they love you after a stressful day. I don't recall being able to think anything, but I know during that moment, I was somewhere else, somewhere happy. Happy. She took me somewhere that I had never been before, but when I came back, it was almost as if I was there all along. I could only compare the sound to the echoed howling of wolves, singing their elegant song atop a misty mountain at night. The once gloomy fog soon dissolved away and warm rays of evening sun replaced it. As it happened, an abundance of purple tinged clouds, in a brilliant rage, wrapped around me and emitted fantastic light, as if I was undergoing a transormation. It was an understatement to say beautiful, more like something truly magnificent that I never thought I was capable of. The girl, aware of her surroundings, brought her wonderful tune to an end, and looked up in awe. All of the emotions that I missed hit me harder than I'd ever felt it before, and we cried until we could no more. We'd broken the code.
See, when I was born, I was programmed with a strict morality code, stating that I, under no circumstances, could communicate with the people down below. If I were to break this rule, I would face adverse mental consequences as a punishment. Since a young age, I was burdened by the treatment of clouds, but I continued every day to do my job and create new and unique clouds to fill the sky each day. I was true to my job, I promised myself that I would never even think about breaking the code, but the day that I came across this girl was the day that my mind changed. I'm sure that I knew what was coming, but from the connection I felt with the girl, I believed that it was well worth the trouble. We could safely and happily spend our remaining days, dancing in my clouds to the her melodies in perfect harmony, exchanging the appreciation that we had worked so hard for.
I was positive that she would come back to save me. Never had I been so positive about anything in my life.
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