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Writing Rain [E]


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[COLOR=Indigo][SIZE=1][FONT=Arial]I am fascinated by rain. My mind seems to wander to it whenever I'm depressed.

[indent]Rain. Cleansing rain. It cut through me and purified me, washed away all the evil and wickedness that clung to my soul and left me cold and alone, a ghost of the man I was. It was sickening to me, deep down where I could ignore it, that I was defined by the rot in my heart. That people didn?t see me, the tortured artist, but instead saw me for my sins, for the people I?d hurt, the misdeeds I?d perpetrated, the self-loathing that leaked out of my pores to corrupt and taint all those around me. If anything, their superficial judgments only strengthened that self-loathing, and just added to the destructive cycle that had led me to where I am tonight.

I was atop a skyscraper, looking out of the entire city. Like me, the rain had washed it of its evil, making it seem somehow new, and fresh. Yet I knew, hundreds of feet below me, the evil was just hiding, clinging to door wells and bus shelters, trying to escape but instead being forced to endure the rain, God?s wrath. When it stopped, the evil would escape, and corrupt the city anew, within hours, minutes even. It was a depressing state of affairs. All the more reason to escape the dark reality of the situation while I could.

I stepped onto the ledge, my eyes drinking in the sight of the city by night, my ears straining to absorb every last sound of the life it contained. The rush of cars; the staccato rhythm of the rain; hell, even the voices in the apartments below me. I wanted to know it all for one last precious moment before I threw it all away. I closed my eyes to savour the brief memories, fighting to ignore images of my life, the life I was leaving behind. It was hard. So hard. Slowly, eventually, I opened my eyes, my will resolved.

I leapt.


The impact had been sickening, a crunch of blood and bone as my body hit the pavement. People screamed around me, cars came to a screeching halt to see the massacre, and yet my senses persisted, allowing me one last glimpse of the world. Somehow, I stretched my shattered jaw into a facsimile of a smile, happy at last, even as I died. It was raining on me, you see.

I would die pure.[/indent][/FONT][/SIZE][/COLOR]
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[COLOR=DarkOrange]I like it - poetic - depressing - nice little read. I can say that my time wasn't wasted. As i'm sure was intended, the last few lines stood out as really cool and gave it that sort of climactic feel needed to make something short as this feel epic. The tone and the prose were all very good, too. It sounded like a person talking about how they were going to kill themselves and let the rain wash away their sin, and that's what it was, so that's good. I also like that it doesn't just end with him jumpin like so many of these sort of stories do, and actually follows through to show you that he really did find that cleansing solace in death. Very nice.

Just don't go jumping off any buildings, kay? :animesmil [/COLOR]
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