Edge of the Light | Teen Ink

Edge of the Light

May 10, 2015
By yaboykade PLATINUM, New Carlisle, Indiana
yaboykade PLATINUM, New Carlisle, Indiana
43 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"You may say that I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one." --John Lennon


     A whirlwind of excitement radiated throughout the land of colorful enterprise. The people frolicked with exultant smiles, discontent seemed nowhere to be found. Happiness filled the land, and the people recycled one another’s joyful celebrations. Life was satisfactory, and the times utterly pleasant. The vices that were once so prevalent in the days of old seemed to have vanished into nothingness. Natural death did not prevail, nor did any pain or suffering. Suffering could not possibly be endured unless self-inflicted, which in itself was a near impossibility. 

     A pure stream of water flowed graciously in the land of perfection. Dwelling in the stream endured a fair lady. She bathed in the abundant stream while a man, whose attire was engulfed with flamboyant dyes, delivered a line softly,
“Hello there.” The man’s voice was filled with such raw innocence. He stared at the maiden almost impolitely, unintentionally so. The lady gave no reply, but stared back at him with content angst. She wore a smile upon her face revealing that she was partially flattered, but not enough to show it wholly. The fair damsel knew of the man’s reputation in the land. He had a pleasant life, as the rest of the community had. She had watched as he had dabbled into the pleasures of living the collectivist lifestyle. He had been with many women, however, he still remained a champion of provocative, but peaceful thought. His philosophy stemmed from a well-intentioned foundation, even though his actions were sometimes mildly base. The man, though sometimes partook in lustful deeds, still shuddered with youthful goodness at thrusting his eyes upon the woman.

     She threw herself out of the water, and began to walk away from the man. Slowly she walked, as if she was inviting the fellow to follow. The man walked confusedly toward her, at a more aggressive pace.

     For miles he followed, keeping a safe distance from her. He did not wonder where he was going, for he did not believe in destination. He was rather an advocate for direction. The lady strolled through steady terrain until she came upon a cliff. The man, at first, thought that she would stop before the edge, for he supposed she had feared death in some sort of manner.

     Largely to his surprise, she maintained her pace, without showing any sign of discoursing it. The man couldn’t believe what he was witnessing, his blood thumped like a bass drum. Nervously the man shouted, “Fair maiden! Why do you walk so close to the edge of the light?” 

     “Grief has overtaken me.” The man watched as the maiden plummeted to an obvious demise. He sat and wondered with all of his might how the woman could be dissatisfied. In fact, this man had not come to know the concept itself. Death was a foreign notion to him. Torn by these newly discovered tragedies, the man too threw himself off the cliff. A perfect world shattered imperfectly.



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