Revisiting some old Vignettes

Well, since I had nothing else better to do, here are a few old stories I've written in my old web journal. I figure that I might as well move them here for redundancy, and as a reminder for me to keep writing.

It's funny how you read something you've written from before, and realize how well you actually wrote them, or how badly they turned out after all. :p

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Despair by Jay Steven Anyong

"Greetings," spoke the old sage, his snowy beard trembling with his quavering voice, "what dark thoughts ail you, young man?"

I turn to look at him, dressed in the luminous robes of a scholar, holding a long inkbrush as tall as I was, "Hello, Great Sage." I greet in response, "I was merely musing about the nature of despair."

"Ah." The old man nodded slowly, "Despair... such a powerful emotion for the young."

"For the young?" My eyebrow shot up, "Explain yourself, Great Sage."

"Despair is at it's most powerful, when one experiences it for the first time." the Great Sage said, sitting down with some difficulty on a small rock beside me.

"The first time?" I snorted, "That's comforting. You've only informed me that there will be others."

"Verily," the Great Sage replied, "There will be many more times when you will be awash with despair and hopelessness... however, there is a lesson to be learned in all our experiences."

"And this lesson is...?"

"That despair, while seemingly overwhelming, is but a passing shadow to one who looks towards the light." The Great Sage replied, looking out into the horizon, "Only cowards turn to violence upon others and themselves in the grip of despair. True virtue shines in those who brace themselves and conduct themselves with humility, grace, honesty and love, for those four are what will give you the strength to bend with the storm of despair and grow with it's passing."

I listened quietly, my heart and mind at war with each other.

The Great Sage looked at me and smiled, "My words are of little comfort, as they should be, young man. For my words cannot grant you humility, nor grace, nor honesty nor love. These can only come from you."

I nodded. My mind agreed, and my heart sighed with sadness.

The Great Sage was right. Mere words cannot take me away from my despair. Like an alchemist, I must seek to rise above the base and ascend to the divine.

I bow low to the Great Sage, and hoist my pack over my shoulder looking out into the coming storm.

----

Cold Shower by Jay Steven Anyong

He sang.

Throwing his head back, his eyes squeezed shut, feeling the icy water of the shower biting into the skin of his bare chest, he sang.

He sang a song of loneliness and of heartbreak even as he bowed his head, feeling the sharp sting of cold water on his scalp, before trickling down and raking his back like little claws, trailing their way down from his shoulders to the small of his back.

Warm tears streaked down his face as his voice cracked, a soft sob escaping his lips as he took a shuddering breath to sing the next line. The warmth of his tears washed away by another icy blast of cold as he reached the chorus.

He opened his eyes, forcing them to focus as the cold gripped him tighter. He sang harder, his voice getting louder as he looked down at the blood seeping down the drain, swirling around like a little crimson whirlpool.

He gasped, his next breath seemed so hard to draw...

He sang softly as he felt his knees give, and the razor fell from his hand, clattering on the bleached white tiles of the shower floor, as he finally felt his voice waver, no sound coming from his mouth.

He gave a sad smile as he felt his vision begin to fade, ending his song with her name, lost in the sound of the icy cold water hitting bleached white tiles