The Sky Is Crying
Short story.
Written by: Meli.
Status: Finished, but is still subject to edits.
Summary: The sky is crying. A very short story regarding the sad sky, and how it becomes happy again.
Excerpt: "None of us will know the true meaning behind the tears. For the sky has no vocal chords, no mouth to speak with. No brain to think of the words. No hands to type, to write. And yet it is crying. Sobbing uncontrollably."
Author's comments: (6-20-09) Written on a rainy day. Go figure. Also, the summary is very bad. Just read the actual story. You'll get it.
Written by: Meli.
Status: Finished, but is still subject to edits.
Summary: The sky is crying. A very short story regarding the sad sky, and how it becomes happy again.
Excerpt: "None of us will know the true meaning behind the tears. For the sky has no vocal chords, no mouth to speak with. No brain to think of the words. No hands to type, to write. And yet it is crying. Sobbing uncontrollably."
Author's comments: (6-20-09) Written on a rainy day. Go figure. Also, the summary is very bad. Just read the actual story. You'll get it.
The sky is crying today.
The sky is crying big, fat tears. It has been crying for minutes, which turn into hours, which turn into days.
It is unknown to us the reasons behind this sudden cryfest.
Perhaps it has been insulted, laughed at, for its size, compared to the rest of the universe, is miniscule.
Perhaps it has realized that its color is, and has always been, stolen from the ocean, and realized that it isn't special in this way.
Or perhaps it has just had a bad day.
None of us will know the true meaning behind the tears. For the sky has no vocal chords, no mouth to speak with. No brain to think of the words. No hands to type, to write.
And yet it is crying. Sobbing uncontrollably.
The wails are heard for miles, echoing across fields and skyscrapers, dirt roads and courtyards.
And yet there are no emotions.
The flashes of frustration, anger, linger for less than a second, then vanish, only to reappear after short periods of emptiness, of rerealization.
And yet, there are no feelings.
One must think, how can a creature express emotions without emotion?
For the sky is a creature. Some days it is cheerful, and beams down at the world. Other times it sits, gloomy, covering it's face with gray clouds. And still other times it does both, playing peek-a-boo with us.
And today, the sky is sad.
It is raining everywhere, in every city, every town, every village.
The raindrops trickle down the faces of rocks, the surface of metal. Trees and other plants nourish themselves with the water, while other living creatures scatter, seeking shelter.
And, more than a few miles away from his farm, a family sits atop the angled roof of their house. For, since the water has dripped from the clouds, the ocean has risen, drinking it up, gulping it down, until it swelled and burst. It burps, and a rush of water flows over fences, under cars, in between trees and buildings. The whole town has flooded. The family, mother, father, two kids, stare down at the rushing water still carrying branches and dirt down the familiar road. The four know it will take months to rebuild the little suburban town, and all they can do is sit. All they can do is wait for help to arrive.
And yet, while they sit, unhappily, a farmer on the other side of the world rejoices, dancing in his field of crops. He raises his arms to the sky and gives thanks for the rain that he and his growing plants have been waiting for.
And, even farther away, a bird perches upon a tree branch, staring up at the sky, bored. Rain is common for him. His rainforest home recieves lots of rain every year. He is used to these storms. Whistling, he sits out the rain. His voice echoes across the canopy, and other birds of his species hear him. They begin a chorus. A chorus of birds, all of whom are just as patient as the first.
Though the sky is sad, watching the creatures below makes it feel better. It marvels at how something so simple, an action that comes so naturally to it, can have such a huge effect on the life below.
And the sky realizes just how important it is.
And though it knows that it is small, and that its color is not original, and that it has horribly bad days, it knows that it will always be important. Even if sometimes it feels small and insignificant, it knows that it is needed.
Knowing this makes all the difference in the world. It sees the creatures, all looking up at the sky, all thinking different thoughts, but all of which revolve around the same idea.
The sky.
And the creatures, all at once, thank him. Though there is sarcasm in some areas, the sky recieves them positively. It has had enough negativity. It sweeps out a long arm, and pushes the empty clouds away, revealing it's blue face. The creatures smile, some in relief, some in pure awe of the beautiful day it has become.
And the sky is happy once more.
The sky is crying big, fat tears. It has been crying for minutes, which turn into hours, which turn into days.
It is unknown to us the reasons behind this sudden cryfest.
Perhaps it has been insulted, laughed at, for its size, compared to the rest of the universe, is miniscule.
Perhaps it has realized that its color is, and has always been, stolen from the ocean, and realized that it isn't special in this way.
Or perhaps it has just had a bad day.
None of us will know the true meaning behind the tears. For the sky has no vocal chords, no mouth to speak with. No brain to think of the words. No hands to type, to write.
And yet it is crying. Sobbing uncontrollably.
The wails are heard for miles, echoing across fields and skyscrapers, dirt roads and courtyards.
And yet there are no emotions.
The flashes of frustration, anger, linger for less than a second, then vanish, only to reappear after short periods of emptiness, of rerealization.
And yet, there are no feelings.
One must think, how can a creature express emotions without emotion?
For the sky is a creature. Some days it is cheerful, and beams down at the world. Other times it sits, gloomy, covering it's face with gray clouds. And still other times it does both, playing peek-a-boo with us.
And today, the sky is sad.
It is raining everywhere, in every city, every town, every village.
The raindrops trickle down the faces of rocks, the surface of metal. Trees and other plants nourish themselves with the water, while other living creatures scatter, seeking shelter.
And, more than a few miles away from his farm, a family sits atop the angled roof of their house. For, since the water has dripped from the clouds, the ocean has risen, drinking it up, gulping it down, until it swelled and burst. It burps, and a rush of water flows over fences, under cars, in between trees and buildings. The whole town has flooded. The family, mother, father, two kids, stare down at the rushing water still carrying branches and dirt down the familiar road. The four know it will take months to rebuild the little suburban town, and all they can do is sit. All they can do is wait for help to arrive.
And yet, while they sit, unhappily, a farmer on the other side of the world rejoices, dancing in his field of crops. He raises his arms to the sky and gives thanks for the rain that he and his growing plants have been waiting for.
And, even farther away, a bird perches upon a tree branch, staring up at the sky, bored. Rain is common for him. His rainforest home recieves lots of rain every year. He is used to these storms. Whistling, he sits out the rain. His voice echoes across the canopy, and other birds of his species hear him. They begin a chorus. A chorus of birds, all of whom are just as patient as the first.
Though the sky is sad, watching the creatures below makes it feel better. It marvels at how something so simple, an action that comes so naturally to it, can have such a huge effect on the life below.
And the sky realizes just how important it is.
And though it knows that it is small, and that its color is not original, and that it has horribly bad days, it knows that it will always be important. Even if sometimes it feels small and insignificant, it knows that it is needed.
Knowing this makes all the difference in the world. It sees the creatures, all looking up at the sky, all thinking different thoughts, but all of which revolve around the same idea.
The sky.
And the creatures, all at once, thank him. Though there is sarcasm in some areas, the sky recieves them positively. It has had enough negativity. It sweeps out a long arm, and pushes the empty clouds away, revealing it's blue face. The creatures smile, some in relief, some in pure awe of the beautiful day it has become.
And the sky is happy once more.