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Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

The following is a piece of writing submitted by sspark_603 on November 26, 2015


The beginning was nothing conspicuous. It felt loose and relaxed, with nothing but lights and colours. It felt safe, as if I was held preciously by someone; someone trustworthy and candour. I never wanted to leave. It was my own island, floating only for me, in this vast capricious world.
Loud and clear clang came through my ears, tickling by brain. I rolled down the wet concrete slope, just as soon as the piece of metal that made the sound stopped moving. The scribbled wall told me that it was 1567th day. The light was blazing at me, quite bizarrely. Normally it would be raindrops that hit my face. Fortunately, this place was still holding, with nothing but rusted metal and some rotten woods, which cracked too many times a day. Sheets of thin metals were what made most of the structure, along with lines of pipes in between the sheets. It was undeniably very odd looking building, but a few hundred days ago - when the lights were on and clock was alive right in the middle of this place – and I was desperate to live – it seemed like a cosy shelter.
Water was a big factor, too. This place had tiny ponds placed randomly around it. As if placed chronologically the pond furthest away from the place was the biggest in size, with the clearest water. It was what I needed more than anything; rare raindrops were all I drank earlier. All I’ve had, in fact. From the moment I was left alone with my fragile life in this frighteningly fierce world, all I really craved was water. Everything I saw, though didn’t make much sense, somehow depressed me. Maybe the word was “alone”. I had to focus on something else, or I would have exploded.
Though, it helped me finding what I never needed, too. The thing that looked very mysterious and cool, that I had to grab it. It reflected light more astonishingly than anything I have ever seen. Not that I’ve seen many things like this thing anyway, though. Water droplets ceased immediately when they touched the stone. A piece of this thing could suck up one of the ponds in a matter of seconds; these pieces were scattered over unthinkable area, some even placed above the structure, or between the pipes and the sheets. They dropped occasionally on my head, like a feather, and I always dreamed about this sewage-like place that night. It smelled like sewage, but had no water. It had grim, claustrophobia – provoking atmosphere. There was no hole for the sun to shine and no bulbs for the lights to burst out of. Strangely the place was bright enough, and I could make out some vague shape of a door faraway, straight in front of my sight. But as soon as I took a step towards it, I woke up. Every single time I couldn’t take more than a step, and I was so annoyed that I just decided to carry a heavy but wide and flat sheet of metal and protect myself towards the way. It was useful to carry cattle of water, too, but sometimes the piece dropped right through that tiny gap and sucked up all the water, as if the wind hated me and manoeuvred the piece into my cattle.
But I had to move on, and survive. This place, although never looked like a cosy shelter, succeeded in touching my heart. My first real home, if I had to clarify. And my home was breaking down. It had been breaking down ever since I lived here, and probably beforehand, too. The thoughts and knowledge flooded me whilst my existence in this place, and for a moment I knew what cerebral meant. I wasn’t anxious or thoughtless anymore. I was confident and ready.
Few bottles of water and a rucksack were all I was going to carry. Obviously I was going to take the ‘thing’; although it seemed malignant, temptation had me. I stuffed it in my pocket, stood up, and walked.
Few steps were hard, but few steps more I was more or less ready to face this frightening, weird world. After all, no one else but I had to survive here. I was the one who had to kept on walking.
Then the ground shook, and I was plunged down a hole.
Where I was left in a dried up sewage - just like the place in my dreams.
Straightaway my curiosity shoved me towards the door, thirsty for the secret.
The door swung helplessly at my push.
The view was truly exceptional.

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