I wrote this a few weeks ago. I still haven't got the grade back from the school, I'll post it up when I get it. It's probably a bit morbid for most people's tastes, so if you don't like that sort of stuff, don't keep reading. Yes, it's a bit short, but for 90 minutes of writing (not typing), that's pretty damn good I think. No, I'm not suicidal. On with the story:

The Mirror

Nothing. The mirror on that wall showed nothing. A mirror does not lie. He looked away from the wall.

Staring at the looking glass had confirmed his suspicions. He was nothing. A burden. His thoughts a waste of space. His body weak and pathetic. No one could possibly understand him, for what was there to understand? Nothing.

No one could talk him out of what he was going to do, though not for want of trying. Walking out of the house, he headed towards a part of the beach not known to the general public. Many people thought it was a cave, but he knew better. One of the few places he enjoyed, it was just a small hole in the rock face. Nothing close to a cave, really.

He sat down, enjoying the scent of the ocean, he rarely enjoyed doing anything anymore, so this was extra special. The smell of the rocks, the spray of the sea, the feel of the sand. It felt like a dream. He stayed a few minutes more.

Getting up, he felt a steely reserve in him. This, beautiful as it was, wouldn’t stop him. No, he loved the place, but he left, and went down the road toward the township.

The trees were coming into bloom. Unlike the beauty of the beach, this did not please him. The flowers would die, just as everyone else did, so he couldn’t come again and see it all year round, like the beach. All this place did was strengthen his reserve. This didn’t stop him. He kept walking.

The farms were either side of him. The wheat fields slowly moving in the breeze. The sight made him want to cry. But he kept moving. He will do it.

He went into the town. He found his friend’s place, and went to the door. There was an old-fashioned letter latch there. There was a letterbox outside, so they rarely used the latch. He paused for a moment. Did he really want to go through with this? But he already knew the answer. He took the envelope out of his pocket, and pushed it through the letter latch. He walked on, towards the cliffs.

He walked past many people in the streets of the small town. None of them mattered. Not anymore, anyway. He saw his mother, pushing the pram of his little sister. He stopped for a moment. His mind finally registering the consequences of what he was about to do. But he would do it anyway. He looked into the pram. His little sister, smiling at his face. His heart was wrenched. He choked out a good-bye and kept going.

He was at the cliffs. It was time. He looked down, the rocks at the bottom looking more fearful than ever. He jumped.

As he fell he realized exactly what he had done. His mind, involuntarily at first, made him see every person he had ever known, had ever met. They would all be devastated, he realized for the first time. Then his mind showed him his world, the power of the ocean, the transient nature of blooming flowers, the majesty of the wheat fields, the life of the town, the warmth of his friendships. The fragility of his baby sister, and the kindness of his mother.

He wanted to take it all back, to turn from that cliff, but it was too late. As he fell on the hard, sharp rocks, he thought This is so unfair! It was his final thought, as his broken and bleeding body lay at the bottom of the cliff face.