They guys, so this was actually an assignment I did in English class. We were given a short story, we had to write down a long sentence from the short story, then hand the paper to someone else and start writing something based off that sentence, but we had to use the last word of the previous sentence as the first word of the second sentence. We were given ten minutes to do that, then we had to use the last sentence of that as the first sentence for the next part. We were given twenty minutes to write as much as we could, but we could only write one sentence. I ended up breaking that sentence up here. Hope you enjoy this!
The space of sky above us was the color of the ever changing violet and towards it the lamps of the street lifted their feeble lanterns. Lanterns which, until recently, had never been used. …Used, that's how he felt. He left used by his brothers. His wonderful, amazing brothers that he would risk his life to protect. Protect them from the monsters that they fought everyday. Everyday, for all his life, he had spent honing his skills to make sure he was perfect. Perfect, that was his downfall; his brothers despised his perfection. Perfection that he had gained just to be of use to them. To them, he was just a tool, a perfect tool. A tool to be used only when necessary.
A tool to be used only when necessary was a perfect description; his brothers only needed him to intervene, help in a fight, and chase away the nightmares that grew so frequently with each passing day. A tool had no emotions, had no need for emotions; it got the job done and was content with that, and when the job became too much, the tool would crack under the pressure and become useless. When a tool was useless, it was thrown away and replaced, but who would replace him? He was unique, or so he was told. If he was so special then how could there be a replacement? But that's just it, there could be no replacement, he was his own person and no one could be like him. If that's so, then why were his brothers treating him like he was replaceable? Did they not realize that once a tool was broken it could never be fixed, never be the same? His younger brother, who was undoubtedly the smartest of them all, should know this, but maybe the thought hadn't caught his attention yet. What about his other younger brother? They always fought with each other but surely there was some mutual understanding between them. And what of his youngest brother? His sweet, innocent, naïve little brother who's smile could rival the sun. Why had he turned so cold, when had he turned so cold, what had he done to turn his loving little brother against him? He had no idea, but he knew one thing. His brother's viewed him as a tool, and tools had no emotion, so maybe he should become the tool they saw him as.
Thanks for reading!