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Stricken

I'm your usual, silent kind of guy. I sit out in the stormy weather talking to myself, I eat my lunch on the roof and play the cello solo in the music room during break time. It's just me, a completely normal guy, a son of a billionaire CEO, sitting alone on my own table, enjoying my solitude. My entire life was spent hating the world and everyone in it. Until I was struck, not by a tennis ball, and not by a baseball bat. But by thunder.

Tempest_Hunter · Action
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3 Chs

Rain

I sat under the pouring rain, minuscule droplets splashing against my pale skin. I inhaled the fresh, cold air. It entered my lungs, filling me with comfort, and giving me an escape from my boarding school.

My hair glistened with water, the droplets fell on my nose, it felt so icy and calming as more pattered against me, my clothes completely drenched.

The balcony was made of stone and bricks, tiled with an icy flooring. My shoulders relaxed, the clouds above me billowed out in different shades of grey. I closed my eyes, and exhaled slowly, my soft black hair now soaked, water dripping from my locks.

Peace and quiet.

That was who I was.

A silent guy who likes spending his time alone, silently, in the rain, listening to the thunder roar, and the lightning strike with such velocity.

My unfinished snacks laid beside me, a scarlet apple, and a piece of soggy pizza. The droplets rolled off the apple's crimson cover, glittering under the moonlight.

The clouds parted as the rain began to slow to a stop, silvery moonlight seeped through. I waited until the moon was fully visible, until I returned to my dorm room.

I didn't have a roomie, thanks to my father, not that I wanted one. I closed the glass door, and pulled the grey curtains closed, before slumping into my bed, silence filling the room.