short story WFP

Maram Salamah
Kealy/Royer
WFP
20 November 2012
The Sun Also Rises The season cast an orange haze above the horizon, lighting up the sky as if lit by fire, yet the haze was so crisp and clear. The sun, like a large, grandeur orange fireball in the distance was partially cloaked by the hanging clouds, which were all splashed with the random colors of hot pinks, reds and even hints of purples and blues. The sun was so large that he felt he could almost touch it. It seemed to look at him with a dull glare, knowing that its beauty and the planet’s dependence on it for survival made up for it. The sun which had its time to shine for the time it was given seemed to whisper, “farewell” to the world as it sunk lower and lower in a lazy manner; almost as if it never wanted to leave. Casper closed his eyes, leaning against the trunk of his old, favorite tree, breathing, in the last of the long day. His venerable skin confirmed that he was a man with ages marked on his face. Years of unhappiness were etched by every deep line on his face. His pensive eyes never focused on anything as he seemed to be permanently lost deep into his thoughts. His lips were slightly turned down and his forehead had deep creases that pulled his eyebrows towards the center of his face, as if he were glaring. He lit up a cigarette and as he inhaled, the glow from the other end of it matched the sunset before him. Though autumn was not his favorite season, he had to admit there was something extraordinary about the autumn sunsets that nature had to show. Considering the way things were going on in his life, this inspirational fire in the sky soothed his sanity which threatened to slip away from him with every passing day. The vivacious colors and intensity of the light were just enough to calm him.
However, Casper knew he had to leave very soon. He leaned off from the tree, walking down the grassy hill and ducking underneath the thick pine branches as he neared the cabin. A cool breeze passed him, making him stop in the middle of the field. He let the wind tussle his hair like a delicate touch from a newborn child. It had been a while since he had been touched by another or even shook another’s hand, yet he remembered his once solid family. Then again, he hardly trusted anyone.
He glanced at the sun for the last time; the evening sky was slowly pulling the fire under. As the fight continued, the sun seemed to submit to tranquility. The deep purples and dark reds represented the struggle of the light refusing to fade from the sky. Yet even from behind the trees, it seemed to stare at him; a silent ball of wonderment that was really a raging ball of fury. The very thing that gave warmth, life, light and happiness to so many could just as easily cause utter destruction. That fact reminded him of his father. .
Casper closed his eyes once more, the events of the day going through his mind like a reel. His father always told him to get out of the habit of daydreaming, but Casper was always the intellectual type, the thinker. The sound of his father’s words echoed in his mind, jerking him out of his fleeting thoughts. By the time he opened his eyes, the sun was tucked away behind the rolling hills which went on perpetually, leaving after it a sea of dark, lonely clouds in a twilight sky. The clouds floated by in soft cotton like puffs of pink and the sky rapidly became darker. The heavens were beginning to litter the stars about, for it was their turn to shine. He flicked his cigarette, brushing his nose while walking to the cabin. He knew that things, like the seasons, would change and that everything would be alright. Similar to the sun, he knew everyone had their time to shine and he knew it would someday be the same for him.