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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Fantasy · #1504037
This is a story I wrote in three hours when I was 16 after viewing a rainbow in the sky.
The Rainbow

By J. Legend Steeves

    The daystar was luminous, the heavens were blue, and the cool breeze was pleasurable upon my face.  Just moments had passed since the sun-shower, which bathed the day's scorching heat.  I peer into the sky and observe a beautiful, bright rainbow.  The sight of it inspires me.  I feel grateful to be alive and to be lucky enough to see such a wonderful illusion.
    I think back to all those tales about the Leprechaun's pot of gold at the end of every rainbow, and wonder if it could be true.  I doubt it very much, but it might be worth looking into.
    I walk into my house, go up the stairs, and go to my bedroom, where I look out my window to see if the spectacle still exists.  When I see the myriad of colours streaked across the endless blue horizon, I am caught in a stupor.  To me the time seems very short, but when I finally break free of my subconscious barrier back to the rally world, I notice that the sun is much higher in the sky.  I go and seek out two days worth of clothes.  I empty my bookbag and stuff the clothes in it.  I run downstairs to the kitchen and open the fridge door.  I then proceed to take two loaves of bread and a jar of peanut-butter and place them on the bed of my clothes in my backpack.  I go into the silverware drawer and pull out a butter knife and drop  it in as well.  I tie up my bag and throw it over my shoulder.  I am almost out of the house when I spy my fathers wallet.  I pick it up and sift through it for money.  I find two twenty dollar bills within.  I slip one out and into my back pocket.  After I set the wallet back exactly as I found it I am out the door and off on my big adventure.

    I have been walking now for about eight hours and the rainbow looks no closer than it was when first I left.  So far the trip has been pretty boring.  I have not seen much that was interesting enough for me to take my eyes off the rainbow, and it itself doesn't do much but hang suspended in the sky.  I've eaten four pb sandwiches already and am already sick of them.  I wish of two things now; that I'd brought my walkman and that I'd brought a wider variety of food.  I am tempted to stop at the next store I come across and buy something to eat, but I want to save the money for as long a  I can, just in case.  It is almost dark and the rainbow is fading from view, so I will make camp just off the road behind the trees.  Tomorrow I will continue my trek as soon as day breaks.

    I was too excited last night to sleep much, plus it wasn't the most comfortable place to rest with rocks, twigs, and roots everywhere.  I did, though, have a lot of time to think, which was a good thing.  I will buy a pad of paper and a pen today, because lots of good poems popped into my head last night.  I find that quite amusing, because I'd never thought I would ever write poetry just to write poetry before.  Always it was just crap I put on paper for school.  Hey, maybe I might become a famous poet and don't even know it.
    I started off on today's journey to find the end of the rainbow as soon as the sun peeked over the horizon and after I had some breakfast (more peanut-butter sandwiches, uhg, and I'm almost done the first loaf of bread).
    Today is a beautiful day and the rainbow illuminates the sky even more than the sun.  I think I have covered forty or fifty miles since I set out late yesterday morning.  The end of the rainbow still seems as far as it was when I left, but I'm just as determined to get there as I was.  Who knows maybe the myths are true, has anybody ever really tried?

"Rainbows are so sweet
Its colour is beautiful
I will reach its end"

is the first poem I wrote, a Haiku I think.  I wouldn't say it is the best poem ever, but I'm a beginner.
    Yesterday I found a pack of cigarettes on the side of the highway.  I opened it to find seven smokes left in it.  I stuck them into a pouch on the side of my bookbag, just in case I get bored enough to take up the habit, but I doubt I will, start smoking that is.  I also met this man.  He looked about forty years old, but he said he was twenty-nine.  He was homeless and harmless.  He was a pretty nice, and smart, for a guy who has nothing.  At first I thought he was going to mug me, but I guess he just wanted someone to talk to.  It must really suck to be that lonely.  We separated five hours later, after I made him a couple pb sandwiches for the road.  It made me feel good about myself, to know I'd made somebody's day.  I returned to my trek with renewed vigour.
    I found a more comfortable place to sleep last night than the night previous.  It was still hard to sleep, but I was passing the time with my new found poetry skills.

    A week has gone by and still the Rainbow taunts me with no visible progress.  I have fourteen dollars left and one cigarette.  Yes, I started smoking, but I only light up at  night when writer's block hits me.  I have now written seventeen poems, all about the beauty of the rainbow, and the curiousness of its age.  It is the only rainbow I've ever heard tell of, that has lasted longer than but a few moments.  This one has been constantly in the sky from sun-up to sun-down for a week and it has me quite perplexed, almost as if it wants me to find it's end.
    I started setting up snares at night to see if I can catch some sort of small wildlife while I sleep and hope I have meat for breakfast. So far I caught a small rabbit.  That morning I woke up and heard a rustling in the woods near where I lay.  It must have just been caught, because it was still bouncing and writhing feverishly.  It wasn't that fat, but it was food.  I quickly put it out of it's misery by stabbing it with my butter knife.  It was a messy job but as messy as trying to skin it with the same blade.  I started a fire and jury-rigged a spit, from branches and twigs.  I was happy to have meat in my belly.

    It's winter now and I'm cold, dirty, hungry, and lonely.  It seems like I've been following this Rainbow forever and don't seem to be getting any closer to my destination.  I'm eating scraps out of garbage cans and dumpsters, and sleeping with the local bums of the cities and towns I come across in my journey.  What a great way to spend the holidays.  My birthday is in a couple weeks so I'll write my family, whom I haven't even thought once about since I began this endless chase some months ago.  I feel they have the right to know I'm still alive.

"This Rainbow I have followed
To find it's unseen end.
My mind has been hollowed,
My sanity has to mend.

The colours blind my sight,
The streaks imprint my mind.
To stay alive I have to fight,
My thoughts I have to find..."

    How long I have followed and travelled I no longer know.  I've asked a few people over the months what the date was, but seldom do they even glance my way.  One thing I know for sure is I've become unhealthily obsessed with the damned Rainbow.  I'm pretty sure my sanity has taken leave.  I'm a bit taller than I was when I left, the shirts I brought with me from home have become too small, and my pants have started to sag, as I have slowly wasted away.  My beard has come in, thicker in places than others, and my hair is long and dread-like, believe me not by choice.  I'm now excruciatingly addicted to cigarettes and spend what money I collect on alcohol of any sort, as long a  it knocks me out quick.
    I see water in the distance.  I must be nearing a lake or maybe even the ocean.

"...My body I cannot control,
This Rainbow now owns me.
My consciousness will not patrol,
My subconsciousness is all I see.

My life to live is all I want,
My sanity has lost the battle.
The arch of colours haunt me,
In my skull I hear a rattle..."

    I'm looking at the ocean from the shore.  What should I do?  The Rainbow calls me.  It tells me, "Keep going, follow me, there will be something special at the end for you, you deserve it."
    Without thinking about it I run into the water, dive, and swim like I've never swam before.  My eyes are locked on that endless coloured bridge.  I swim, and swim, and swim.
    I feel something tugging at my feet, pulling me under.  I know I should panic, but instead I trudged on.  I feel my lungs fill up with salt water, but I fight the urge to cough.  My head feels lighter, and foggy.  I watch as the Rainbow's ends raise, slowly turning from a frown into a grin, an evil, though beautiful smirk.  Where the yellow strip meets the green, the Rainbow split it seam at it's middle, making it look as if it were laughing silently at my current situation, mocking my dilemma.  The silence of the laughter was loud and clear in my ears, filling my head and being amplified ten-fold by the waves of the crushing water.
    I squeeze shut my eyes and laugh soundlessly myself, and slip into a hysterical gladness.  The happiness of knowing that this whole thing is over.  No more Rainbow staring down at me.  My journey has finally come to it's bitter end.  Here lies my Leprechaun's treasure.

"...The Rainbow rules what I think and do,
And denies my tears when I want to cry.
All are lucky I am not you,
Or you, too, would wish to die."
© Copyright 2008 333rd Legend (333rd_legend at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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