The Incoming Storm

The fear of death follows from the fear of life. - Mark Twain

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There is no hope, Stephen looked through the glass windows in front of him. He can clearly see the cloud mounting over the horizon, yet he knew that he won’t be able to witness the incoming storm. 

Scrabbled the unfinished notes, he painfully threw it into the trash bin..

“There is no hope...” he thought. “even in writing some last note..” he finally gave up that idea and got himself up. 

This is the place they lived for the last 5 years. He can vividly go through every detail of every moment of that. Everything in this room is like organs of himself. 

“No, it is much more than that.” He noticed the small scratch around the corner of his desk top. With trembling finger, he felt the roughness and began scratching it over and over again. until the scratch became a patch..

all the while, nothing came into his mind, even though his eyes have been open for at least 30 hours.

A pale lighting penetrated into the room, then came a  tremendous thunder. He didn’t even move a muscle. But it did give him some direction and he began moving towards the  glass windows..

His legs began limbing, vision blurring, head aching..

finally he clamped and leaned himself on the windows.Slowly, his body slipped down to the ground.

With a smile still recognizable, he saw himself over the reflection on the window. For the first time, he realized what he has done to himself, not without effort, he felt that pain and a great fear overwhelmed him. Luckily that’s the last thing in his mind, he didn’t even have the time to sweep away his smile..    

“All is over...”

P.s: Guys, don't worry about me. I just find it quite ironic to start the new year with something gloomy like this. 

"Things which you do not hope happen more frequently than things which you do hope."  ~Titus Maccius Plautus