my tears

[Fletcher]

PROLOUGE

I never really cared so much about the stars, about the only light that we had. They shone down upon us, softly light twinkling to the earth. Nighttime is all we have here, but a long time ago, I heard that the stars gave nothing to us, and the light came from a globe of fire called the sun.

In this land lit by the sun, the sky was blue. Sometimes, though, it got grey, and when it was grey, the sky would shout and pull tassles of flame above the people. Rain would come only then, as the sky raged on.

The sky is always mad at us. It always rains. Everyone always talks about the hate of the sky, and what could we have done to make it mad. I don't think we did anything to make the sky mad. I don't belive the sky hates us.

The sky is crying. I know that the sky is sad. I know that tears always come from it's grey, and one day, when we all undesrstand it's glory, the sky will again be happy, and the sun will again shine, and the stars will go dark. The sky will be blue, and everyone will sing.

I know this, but no one else does. They don't understand, and they don't listen. I always dream about making the sky happy again. Perhaps if I do that, people will be happy with me. My name is Cascata, and I cry with the sky. Every hates the sky, and it is sad. It cries. When I look up at the sky, I know that it is my only friend. When something loves you, it understands you. Because the sky understands me, it is my friend. Because it understands what it feels like to have no one in all of the world care for you.

First Part

Wind tore angrily at the children as we dashed through the rain. "Cascata!" A harsh voice shrieked, and I glanced through the centuries of rain as it fell from the sky. Morag caught up to me, and I fiercly ached for a friend as a fake smile alighted on her face.

"Where are you going?" she asked, her voice fake. I glared at her through the gloom. She was one of the people who hated the sky.

"I am saving my friend." I told her. If I had a human friend, they would have eagerly asked me what I was doing, and offered assistance. Morag is not capable of kind gestures such as that, though.

"You have a friend?" Her words pierced through me. Poisonous. I didn't bother to answer. Anything I said she could counter. Her retorts where always better than mine. Instead, I resorted to something she couldn't counter. I punched her.

Morag screamed. I had barely bruised her, I knew well enough, but she was such a wimp. But she was also everyones favorate. No matter what, I would be at fault. If Morag had killed me, and resived a scrape on the knee, it would be my poor mutilated dead body's fault.

I ran.