This is the last of my long MapleStory-writing stint (I was trying to even out the number of fics in each of the three categories I write for).

I really wonder why I'm writing so much dark stuff! Like I said before, it's NOTHING to do with what's going on in real life. It really isn't like me, but it seems all the inspiration I'm getting nowadays is this dark.

A drabble-ish piece. Hope you enjoy it for the descriptiveness.

Last Page of a Diary

(life's seasons)

There were times when we smiled together, watching the flowery fierworks spiral and circle through the sky like spraying firebirds through a starfield, marking the start of the new year, as we sat in the low branches and on our parents' shoulders, pointing to the flaming paintings.

There were times when we ran through the distant blooming fields with the other kids, chasing down monsters and earning experience for each other, fighting and awaiting the moment we would attain our next levels, congratulating each other heartily when one of us managed it, always ready to fight more.

There were times when we ran off on our own adventures in the summer heat, looking for a spring or brook where we could rest from the throat parching day's heat, the sunbeams coursing through the shade of the foliage overhead like the sheer force of life, its absoluteness blurred by the joy we shared, as two exhausted, sweaty youths laughing at the brink of bubbling water.

There were times when we trekked through the same forest, autumnal now, hoping to find creatures to fight down and grow strong by, the old brook of the past now sluggish, cooled by the autumn wind, and we watched the leaves fall; I brushed one out of your soft hair, and you smiled.

Then there wer times when we again watched the sky spiral, now with snowflakes and stars, as the whiteness held us in sweet calmness, the springs and streams frozen over by the icy winds; spirits cooled, hearts warm, ignorant completely of the dangerous future that stealthily closed in on our town, only seeing the joy of the moment.

Now you're gone, taken by the vice of darkness, by corrupted men and rupturing evil that spilled over the earth of our town. Alone I sit on the wall, staring into desolate winter, wondering if the cold will ever end, if the spring will finally come. It's so cold.

Now as I sit here and reflect, writing on this page, I know that I will not live much longer, not with this cold that is creeping into my soul.

You were just a girl of Leafre, I boy of the same--mere neighbours, no more. Then why does my heart feel so empty? Why does it feel like somewhere inside me, a flame has been extinguished? As I reflect, I realise it was love. Silly, temporary love, that would never have lasted so long. But oh, it pains me so much now.

I feel far, far from the world. And like the temporal course of the seasons, summer has been long forgotten with our days of bright youth, faded away into cold, vengeful winter.

The only difference is, New Year will never come for me.

He sighs at the New Year's Eve sky, and bows to the river, in submission. In the distance, a baby cries; a dog barks. He can't here it, for all he hears is the roar of freezing water below.

His last breath breaks the icy water, and the darkness is complete for him.

The New Year fireworks burst in the sky, slivers of light dancing over the water. A new year begins.

Same old story, with one less character.