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Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

The following is a piece of writing submitted by Maine Character on May 12, 2010
"I hope you see the symbolism as you read this, This one means a lot to me because it was the first time I poured what was on my heart into writing."

Passionate Darkness

The night was warm, yet black.

The moon was hidden behind an overcast of dark, oily clouds that seemed to seep across the night sky.

I am alone, and I feel a light rain drizzle against my skin. I would give anything to see the beauty of daylight again.

Where am I? An ocean of tears sweeps across the sands of the island called sadness, and the weight of a passionate heart seems to drag me, making me slower, and making the whole experience even worse than what it already seems to be.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, but as I turn I only see that it is a tree branch, and my heart sinks lower than I thought it could.

I would give anything to have anyone there to be at my side, but alas, there is nobody to comfort my heavy heart which bleeds with compassion and love for those who have forsaken me, and left me here on my own.

I contemplate walking into the sea to drown the voices that come into my mind. They constantly tell me to die, they constantly tell me to give up, and lose hope.

The night drags on. . .four, eight, twelve hours go by, yet I cannot tell what time it is.

I try to take a deep breath as I lean against a tree, but I find that the tree is rotten, and gives out under my weight.

It gives up just like everything else on this island. . .completely unreliable.

Seeing no hope among the starless horizon, I have no friends to experience this with.
I seem to be surrounded by the wolves and lions of hate and violence.

Every raft I make only sinks, wasting my time more, and I just try to ignore the growls and sneers of whatever awaits me in the forest.

I wonder what my fate will be, and as I sit there alone on the dark beach which brings forth black sand, I begin to cry, feeling my heart experience unthinkable pain.

Even the tears do not release my soul-trapped prison of a body, and I lay down, fearing the worst.

All I need is for somebody to love and care for me back. . .but there is none.

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