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Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

The following is a piece of writing submitted by Eric on March 9, 2009
"The fragility of a normal person's life."


To many, beauty lay in the sight. Maybe it was in the way the wrinkles and crevices of the water radiated from an unknown origin, or maybe it was in the way the sun's icing gilded the murky water. Perhaps it was in the manner of which the tall flowers erratically moved, a twinge here, a pause, another twinge there. Possibly, it was the way the sun's rays childishly dodged and weaved through the blades of grass, creating vividly dancing shadows on the dirt floor. Whatever it was, whatever created this glory, the brilliance and wonder within, I did not know. On a subconscious level, however, I knew that whenever I was at this riverbed, whenever I could hear the water patting the land, whenever I could be one with the river and grass, I would be able to steep in the profound beauty of this place and let the hardships which every man faces dissipate.

But below the surface of the water was where everything else lay. One cannot take without giving; I could not rest without reliving. Yes, below the seeming calming, consoling water, there lay glimpses of the past better left alone. A flash of rock here and the memory of punching my five year son would begin to tug at one corner of my brain. A fish’s gill here and the loss of my house would begin to tug at another. Yet still I endeavored to visit whenever a hardship arose – perhaps I was paying the price, but it was a price worthwhile... Perhaps.

Today was like any other one of the times I had been to this riverbed. It was night, with numerous insects clinging to your skin and many more trailing behind you. The sound of life was within the thick fog which was the air; the cold breeze was more a refreshment than a hindrance. I approached the water the same way I had always, slowly, cautiously, then as I began to feel the almost churchlike effect upon me, I opened up – took of my coat and sat on a rock which had the silvery coating of the moonlight plastered on it. But the effect didn’t last long, and I knew it wouldn't. Try in vain I did, to achieve the calmness of nights before, but it was to no avail. There was one problem that this river couldn’t solve: I no longer found it beautiful.

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