Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Please Don't Cry.... by Hitomi Sakagura (books to read in a lifetime txt) 📖
- Author: Hitomi Sakagura
Book online «Please Don't Cry.... by Hitomi Sakagura (books to read in a lifetime txt) 📖». Author Hitomi Sakagura
I stared at the grave, unable to comprehend my surroundings. The sad tune being played from the piano, the preacher giving his blessings to the young girl who lies dead in the dirt, and the crying. Why hadn't I seen this coming? I'm such a horrible person. So many hints, but they all just passed me by. Nothing will be the same, I have nothing anymore. Every time we'd run around outside, she would have to stop and cough. Every time we'd talk, she would ask me the same question over and over,
"What would you do if I died?" She would have such a solemn expression, and I would answer the same way I always do,
"I would cry of course! You're my best friend, but you're not gonna die anytime soon." I would throw her a cheery smile, and give her a hug. As I go to release her, she would hug my tighter and whisper,
"Please don't cry over me...." I could hear her holding back tears. I know that sound like the back of my hand, I used to make it all the time. I would ask her what's wrong, but she would respond with 'Nothing' or 'I'm fine'. I now know that that was all a lie.
I wear a black over coat and my father holds an umbrella over my head, despite me wearing a hat already.
"Come on Eliza, you're gonna get sick if you don't come inside-" I cut my father off with the response
"I don't care." I never did. Not ever since that fatal night. She would haunt my dreams saying,
"Hey Lizzy! Why so glum, chum? I'm happy, you should be happy too!" She would run up to me, grab my hand, and she would take me to her "secret place"
Tears would run down my face, and I would light up like a candle during Christmas. My best friend would look back at me with happy green eyes, and a happy smile. All of which I never had. Only in my dreams would I be happy, I get to talk to her, I'm able to live how I want, and we'd have a great time.
Now. I could go on writing about all the good times and bad times, but why not write about this memorable time?
I hide my face behind the propped collar of my overcoat and smile to myself.
'Nothing is going to be the same, nothing going to be right, everything is going to be gone. Like a wasteland.' A tear rolls down my face, and I mentally punch myself. Her words come into my mind.
"Please don't cry over me..." They echo like they were screamed in an empty metal basement. I turn around, and run into the street. A car comes fast as lightning, and I hold my arms out.
I hear my name called from several different people. "ELIZA!" or "LIZABETH!"
I chuckle, out of happiness, and hysteria. The last words she said to me had left my brain, and the only word stored there was
'Lucy.....' And I blacked out.
I stared at the blank page of my notepad. I was writing the last page of my 4th novel in a last few months. How do I come up with such stories? I don't know. They just come into my head. I'm always alone so I get to think a lot, and it really pays off. Especially when I get out of this place. It's always so dull, and colorless,; nothing ever happens. Ever since Eva got taken away to the cushion room, everything is a lot quieter. I'm strange, but I like it quiet. This place is like school; You have the weirdos, the wrongly accused, the geeks, the known, and the Regulars. I like to consider myself one of the weirdos, but that's because nobody has gotten close enough to me to see that side. It's not very bright, let's just put it that way.
This novel was about a girl named Trin who lives in a future with no color. Everybody has a daily routine, a boring job, and learn what everybody else does. Like there's no reason for them to even live. That's where Trin comes it. She's cute, bright, and full of life. She writes stories and shares them with people. Trin had heard stories about all the color the world used to have, how people believed in change. Great change, not this rubble that they call Omerza. Trin's liveliness can cause trouble for the government. It sounds kind of like a rip-off, but I promise you, it's not.
'How should I end this one off?' I thought to myself.
Text: Hitomi Sakagura
Images: Hitomi Sakagura
Editing: Korah Coulture
Publication Date: 02-17-2013
All Rights Reserved
Dedication:
To my best friends in the whole universe. I love you, and you are always there for me.
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