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Short Stories - To Cry is to Live
#3
"It's said that the God still lives."

You hated it. You hated this world with a passion. Though you were born with a loving family, it was taken away. You were born with talent- that too was stolen from you. You hated it. Why did everything get taken from you? Why was the world so cruel- so selfish? Glaring holes into the darkness of the night, you pondered these thoughts, surrounded by the bodies of the bandits that attempted to rob you.

It wasn't always like this, though. At one point, you loved the world. You endured any sort of hardship because you weren't alone. You weren't abandoned and left to rot. What happened? You didn't even know for certain. Simply put, it happened in the moment of a flash- an instant in time that you didn't comprehend. Your family left you without a word, your powers went out of control, and you were left alone, because you were a freak.

A freak... Was that what you were? Just because you were created instead of born, you were a freak? Sub-Human? You couldn't have human emotions, surely. The stone in your head couldn't afford tears. Cursing, you crushed the spine of one of the already-dead bandits.

You hated this world, and that was your only passion. Perhaps, at one point, you could have cried. You could have mourned over the hand that fate gave you. You didn't, though. Didn't have the power to- didn't have the ability to. Tears were not given to you at creation.

You didn't want them anyway. You didn't want anything anymore. Why were you here?

...

Maybe, you were here because you wanted to see a different path. Perhaps... there was a small bit of hope inside of you, that maybe, just maybe, you could become as you always wished to be. Human, fully human. Loved, completely and unconditionally.

Softly, you let out a chuckle, then a laugh. It was so funny, wasn't it? The fact that you couldn't even comprehend what it was like anymore. To love, to laugh, to cry, to endure hardship with others. You were already falling apart, who was to say you wouldn't be perishing soon?

Somewhere, deep inside of your heart?

You heard a little child cry, echoing into the void.

"The God's tears are our own, they say."
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