the freezing wind brushes against the window, drawing his attention. with a sigh, he returns to his writing. it's never been easy for him to devote his full attention to anything. the pen in his hand is useless when he's not motivated.

and the truth is, he hasn't felt motivated in a while. a day feels like a century. months feel like millenniums. yet, his life seems to be flying by at an alarming rate.

he has written universes into existence and destroyed them at the same time. now, he's emotionless to the deaths of his fragile characters. after all, they are just names on paper.

but it's different. to him, they're people. their lives, and so much more, are in his hands. he's free to manipulate their personalities to his liking. the freedom to twist a person's feelings into exactly who you want them to be is overwhelming.

he rests his head in his hands.a feeling of frustration lies behind his eyes. a tear rolls down his face and falls onto the fresh ink. reaching for the paper, he tears it in half. another universe turns to dust in an instant.

his frustration turns into doubt as he fears the worse. nobody will enjoy his writing, the words he's skillfully crafted into paragraphs.

the wind howls at his window, demanding his attention. he glances outside, looking for an ounce of inspiration. the trees sway violently.

finally, he turns back to his desk. he grabs a fresh piece of paper and presses the pen to the blank page.

furiously, he writes about pain. the pain of being forgotten and the pain of forgetting. what will happen if he doesn't succeed? there will not be a soul who remembers his name. another tear falls, but he keeps writing. he must go on, no matter how much it hurts.

and as he cries, it rains.



// little short sad thing i wrote. enjoy, and feel free to post your constructive criticism.