Archem actually used his thinker!

[Archem]

So, I started writing randomly a few months ago, and after huge pauses in writing, I finished it today. READ!

Rain

They walked side by side, shoulder to shoulder, in the rain. Not a word was uttered between the two, it was unnecessary. Words would muddy the attitude and soil the beautiful silence in the air. They had left the man in the truck with his sports cap on and his muscled arms adorned with a sweater. He leaked upon the windshield, unmoving entirely. The thick, dark-red fluid had begun to dry, creating a strong bond between face and glass.

The two walked faster now, still side by side, still shoulder to shaking shoulder, still raining. The one on the right appeared exhausted, as if the years had worn away all emotion and dried this ones lungs with its sharp air. The one on the left began to tremble quietly, but tears were not evident. The rain replaced tears on this night. It's easier to save face when the sky weeps for you.

There were two vehicles, both mangled. The crossroad had its yellow traffic light, now a sickly faded orange, blinked persistently in the darkness, and was the only light visible for miles, save the pickup's headlights. The man was no longer the host, he was now the guardian, caring for the twisted mounds of metal that had once been two Chevys. The man would soon be tucked away, sent to guard another land held from mortal grasps. He would be eternally safe.

The two slowed to a stop, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, and the rain poured down. The one on the right began to dial a number - 9. The left stopped the right, and with the shake of the head, the phone vanished into the right's denim jacket pocket. The air smelled of alcohol, and with it hung great tension.

"Manager Eric Valley" read the name tag stitched on the man's sweater. "Epitome Floor Tiling", it continued. Eric Valley, this man, appeared to be in his mid-twenties. Eric Valley, in the pickup was a folder with three customers' addresses. Eric Valley, working 'round the clock to fulfill people's home improvement needs. Eric Valley. What a nice young man.

They sat side by side, shoulder to shoulder, in the pouring rain. The left stood and turned towards the pickups, a grim look of disbelief on this one's face. The one on the right grabbed the left one's arm, and with a mild tug, realigned the left towards the front. They stood, and continued through the downpour.

What a lovely evening. Despite the rain, the night was perfect. No noises coming from the neighboring houses, no lights burning through the dark, no people (save the man, the left and the right), to distress this balance of nature. Just the rain, there to muddy the world. The rain picked up, possibly to drown the world. What a lovely evening. It's perfect for drowning out everything.

They walked for an hour, shoulder to shoulder, for an hour or so, and the rain still pouring, for perhaps hours more. The sirens screamed past them, singing their song of safety aloud, but to no avail. These two would never see the sirens the same way again. The time did pass, and the two reached their point, the hike whittled down to an end.

They stood outside a fine house, the mailbox reading "Valley". A new two-story house, fine for a small family built of stone and love, stood before their sad eyes. A lovely banner hung from the house, just over the doorway. It was painted and designed with care, and it stood strong against the rain. It was once a simple sign of happiness, but now it held a bitter second side to it. "Welcome home, mom and dad!"

They sat and they cried, shoulder to shoulder, tearful eyes connecting as the rain cleansed the world of everything.


Everything is written just the way I wanted it, so don't give me advice to change it in any way, it's just what it should be.

[Bluhman]

This art is not very creative. This is not because the art shows no signs of creativity, but more or less that it's not in the section with the other pieces of "creative" art.

Also, I can't read, so I'll assume your story is a rocks. Good work.

[Archem]

Art? Creative? It's me writing things, I don't think of it as any of those. Otherwise, I'd have put it in creative arts.

Oh. It's been moved. Carry on then.

[ZeroKirbyX]

Ehhhh... It's almost too sober for me. Neat writing, but eh.