Short Story: The Prodigious Boy


Hello Internet!

So, if you've read any of my previous posts, you'll know that I like writing. The other night, when I got home from school, I was bored so I decided to start writing a random short story. Also, I had a writing exam the next day so I thought it might help me get into the zone.
Originally, I wasn't planning on posting it but I eventually decided to just go for it.

Therefore, here is the beginning to a very random (made up on the spot) short story - which is not very good.

The Prodigious Boy

Never had I felt so cold and dank as I trenched through the pouring rain. It hadn't been long since the bright sun had filtered through the streets of the small village where I lived. Whereas, now, the sun had seemed to have disappeared completely. Where it had once inhabited the sky, there was now a thick sheet of dark, black clouds, each holding the next bucket of water to be poured upon our heads.

The change in weather had made quite an effect on the citizens of my minuscule hometown. It had changed people's moods from pleasant and cheerful to brooding and miserable.

Dragging myself down the flooded street - my long hair dripping with droplets of rain - I thought about how the atmosphere could possibly change in such sudden circumstances. There had, of course, been rumours that the mysterious storm had been due to the unexpected arrival of a young boy (who had arrived the day before the rain began). Since the arrival, the rain had gotten heavier, the thunder had gotten louder and the lightning had intensified in electricity.
Obviously, I did not believe such a ridiculous theory. Even though I couldn't deny the mysterious coincidence, a coincidence was all it was. After all, how could a boy change something as big as the weather?

I had only managed to catch a glimpse of the uncanny boy once, when he was peering out of the small window of his cramped room in the inn. He was a prodigious sight: lingering, long hair, of which was as stygian-black as the pits of hell itself; piercing, melanoid eyes, which were mystifying and perplexing to look at; gangling arms, seeming to trail at his sides lazily; and, most importantly of all, the severe, grim frown which was worn upon his pale face. Somehow, I got the feeling that his grimace was worn for no particular reason - that it was long ago when his furrowed brows and narrowed eyes had become simply an aspect of his natural appearance.

Somehow, even though I thought the strange rumour absurd, the thought of the boy made my heart pound and my stomach lurch. There was just something about him which made me want to stay as far away as possible from the inn.

Within days of the boy's arrival, the weather had turned to match his facial expression. Clouds concealed the identity of the once-gleaming sun and shadowed the narrow roads of the inadequate village. All I could hope was that the storm disappeared soon. And what would be even better was if the boy disappeared with it...

I know it's not the best but, anyway...I hope it didn't bore you too much.
I honestly have no idea where this story is going but, please let me know if you want me to continue it.
I welcome any honest opinions and critiques on my work, so I'd really appreciate it if you left some comments below.

Thank you for reading,
Elsie A xx

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