The Wanderer

[Dyavin 0]

For some reason the story thread got deleted and my duplicate thread that I had edited and requested deleted got left up. To fix that, I've made this thread. Sorry if I've inconvenienced anyone or done something out of protocol. Any way, here's the story. I wrote it almost 10 years ago when I was in middle school, or maybe freshmen year of High School. I just found it on an old hard drive and have been intrigued by it again. I always liked this story.

A man sits in the darkness, afraid and alone. He is unsure of where he is, or how he came to be there. His eyelids are heavy. He feels cold and stagnant, as if he has been sitting here for thousands of years.

Darkness falls on the young man’s soul, and he feels that he can hold this weight no longer. He closes his eyes and clasps his hands together, using the last ounces of strength he can. Beneath the darkness of his surroundings, he finds the light held deep within his mind. He holds one kernel of hope, locked deep within him. As he sits, images of a woman come cascading forth from the black of his corroded memories. Bright white, glowing with all the colors and beauty of his ancient but not forgotten past, he can see her. She is the only thing that keeps him moving, the only thing that prevents him from giving up. A slight smile fades across his cracked, pale lips. He can feel her even now, close to him. He feels the immeasurable weight lifted from his heart, an indescribable connection to this woman, brightening even the bleakest situation. He can feel her touch on his skin, see the radiance of her smile, and once again, he is revitalized. He can move again, he feels life flow through his limbs, strong and full. The woman gives him one last smile, and then fades back into the shadow of his heart.

The man slowly lifts himself from the harsh ground he was laying upon. As he does, he cautiously surveys his surroundings. An old man, standing directly in front of him as he opens his eyes, startles him. The man wears a dark scowl, spit and decay covers his beard, and his figure is bent and broken. The old man spits at the floor near the young man’s feet and scowls harder still.

“You’ll never find her. Your fate lay here, with the rest of us. You cannot escape, eternity does not just <I>end</I> upon the hopeless wish of a young fool. Accept your sins, and suffer as you were meant to. Do not torture yourself with such visions of sympathy and self-pity. They will only make you weak.

[Dyavin 0]

So the views keep growing (at 59 now I believe?) and the comments stay at 0. I want to know what you think! At least one of those views stayed and read the thing, surely!