Immortal Words

Hey guys,

So a couple of years ago I wrote this story, it was for a competition at school (I got third place!) and I thought I would share it with you. The basic idea was that we could write whatever we wanted about whoever, but it had to contain the phrase 'And with that, I picked up my pen and I began to write'. I am by no means a good writer but I would appreciate feedback. I thought I would post more stories and things I have written over the years because I never really show people what I write and a couple of my friends wanted to see what goes on inside my head when I do sit down and scribble in various notebooks, so without further ado, here is the first of my stories.

Immortal Words

It was raining, as usual, and as I sat by the window I looked out and traced the raindrops as they slid down the glass, clouding the world from me. For all I knew, it had ceased to exist. And in that moment I began to think; I thought about how the world passes us by every day turning, turning. Always turning in the black void of space, so old and rigid on her axis. Constantly moving forwards and never looking back. And I thought that our lives are a mere speck on the face of our planet. We are born, we live, we love and we die.

She would not remember us, how could she? There are hundreds of countries filled with billions of humans, how would she remember each and every one of us. We all pass so quickly; people move in and out of our own lives daily and we never look twice - they are simply there one minute and gone the next. A simple hello could have started millions of possibilities and yet we never remember their faces, we never get to know them and we never stop to look at anything other than what concerns ourselves. Each of us are too busy occupying our own tiny little worlds to stop and think about the consequences of that person being in our lives or us in theirs. We are like the rain, running down the smooth glass at an unstoppable pace, weaving through the trails of people that have been before but never stopping, always running, always.

And with that, I picked up my pen and I began to write.

I wrote about all those I had known, all those I had forgotten and all those I had yet to know. My dreams and hopes all poured onto the paper in front of me. Every laugh, love and smile were immortalised, a colourful reminder of the past in a world full of grey. And it is my gift to you, every time the rain clouds your vision of the colours of the world read my story and feel the colour return. This story is who I am, it is what has defined me, what has moulded me, what has turned me into who I am today. And when I am gone, my loved ones will remember me by my story. When they and all those who knew me are gone, my story will be the only thing of me that will remain. My body cannot live forever, but my words and my memory are immortal. You remember a person, not by their face or the sound of their voice. But by their deeds, what they did and how they did it. These things form our story. And in the end we are all stories, so let’s make it a good one.

Xxx