Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Mourning Daylight

She glared up at the night sky with loathing in her eyes.

"I hate it," she announced, pointing up at the large, white sphere in the sky.

Her companions were confused, white represented innocence and how could you hate that?

"How can you dislike something so pure?" they asked, puzzled.

"Pure," she spat out the word as if it left a nasty taste in her mouth "There is nothing pure about that. It is just reflecting the Mother's rays. Coping Her. I loath copy-cats."

"We hate Mother," they declared " There is nothing good about Her. Even the creatures of the night shy away from he poisoning beams."

"Exactaly!" she exlaimed " Mother purifies everything in Her path. That is true beauty."

They let out a hollow laugh. "Child, you know nothing of beauty. Now stop your foolish and childish thoughts and focus on more serious matters. It is not the time to be whimsical."

She sighed and slumped her shoulders in defeat. They would always win an argument no matter what the subject was.

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