Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

The Man in the Sun

By
The Man in the Sun

Yesterday, I wished the sun were green. I looked into the sun and was disgusted by it, by the way it shames us away from its glow and sharply pushes our gaze away, as though its light holds something supernatural, something mysterious, beautiful, sacred. I stared defiantly, trying to pierce the giant, ugly ball of fire with my eyes - you have no power over me. I knew that if you could look through it, you would see a little man shining the unnatural, garish beam of a flashlight into our blinded faces. No power, no beauty, just a blinding light with an artificial mystery.

Tears, and someone spilled water on the paint. But I continued to stare, pushing it away from myself. And as it finally sank behind the trees and gently rested on the road, I had defeated it. My new discovery was worth the hot droplets on my cheeks. That wasn't important. I had won. And though it hurt that I had been deceived for so long, it did not matter because in the end, I had triumphed.

Yesterday I wished the sun were green. Yesterday I knew.

Today, I turned my face toward the sun - that betraying, ugly ball of fire - and smiled. It rested gently on the water, and its beauty radiated inside me. The sun was beautiful. Perhaps, with my new knowledge, less powerful, but beautiful. Was the apparent contradiction relevant? I averted my gaze not being able to look on and, instead, admired the soft pink and greyish-blue in which it adorned the beach. Perhaps it was fickleness, weakness, disloyalty to myself. But I smelled the familiar faint scent of cologne, his strong hand gently holding mine, and it felt like love.

"This will certify that the above work is completely original."





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback