Note: It’s Always a Dark Topic was the name of my portfolio in creative writing in high school. My writing style has since improved, but I’m still proud of the pieces I’ve put on my site. Looking back, I can see the beginnings of my style, but also some of the mistakes I used to make a lot. Overall, though, I am still proud of these, mostly because I greatly enjoyed writing them at the time. Enjoy πŸ™‚

β€œWhat am I?” The being asked itself. As usual, no answer came. This being has asked itself this question many times, yet never has an answer come.

β€œThis time shall be different.” The being told itself. So, it asked again.

Now, an answer did come. An intense wave of hatred, misery, and regret swept over this being, as he began to remember. Regret, which was the last emotion to come to him, also hit the hardest and confused him the most. As his confusion grew, images began to come to him.

First came the image of a necklace. This necklace had a simple gold chain and a locket with the letters β€˜L.J.’ carved into it. Yet, this image only strengthened his confusion and his hatred. The more the image lingered in his mind, the more his hatred grew. This intense hatred grew over his confusion, as he forced the image from his mind.

Now, he impatiently waited for more answers. As he waited, the hatred withdrew slightly and his confusion returned. Finally, the next image came. This one was of several droplets of scarlet blood upon the palm of someone’s hand. The being didn’t know for sure, yet he guessed it had been his own. This time, his confusion became stronger and only continued to grow. Yet, this image left quickly and was soon replaced with another.

This next image was of a tall woman with pale skin and long light brown hair. Her outfit was a plain dark green dress, and her hair hung loose towards the ground. The only unusual thing about her was her eyes. The sea-blue eyes seemed to pierce through him as they showed her strength and determination to defeat all that surround her. With this image, his feelings of misery and regret grew stronger. Yet, before he could figure out who she was, the image vanished.

The following image came quicker. This one was of a full glass of water held in his hands. He saw himself move one hand away, then return it with a small red vial. He opened it carefully, then poured the liquid into the water. As the red liquid began to dissolve, the image vanished.

The next image cam quickest, and was also the strongest. With this image, all the other ones made sense. The woman he had seen before was seated at a desk. Around her neck was a locket with the letters β€˜L.J.’ and in his hands was the glass of water. He carefully set the water on her desk as her eyes rose to meet his own. When he saw the beautiful sea-blue eyes, regret stabbed a this heart. She smiled at him, with the most radiant smile he had ever seen, and raised the glass towards her lips. Then she drank the water, as he stood there, patiently waiting for the poison to take it toll, yet it took his life instead.

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