Silas
The sky had always been gray above Silas. Not metaphorically. Not in some poetic, “oh he’s sad” kind of way. No. The sky was actually gray. Heavy clouds followed him like unpaid debt, pressing low wherever he went. It rained more often around him than anywhere else. Not storms, not dramatic lightning—just that quiet, persistent drizzle that made everything feel… damp. Tired. People noticed, at first. Then they got used to it. Then they stopped noticing him entirely. Silas was seventeen, maybe eighteen depending on how much he cared to count, and if there was one word that defined his existence, it was average. Average grades. Average height. Average face—though if you looked closely, it leaned toward something sharper, something almost striking. But no one really looked closely. He had no family worth mentioning. No friends either. School was just a place where he existed between hours, like a ghost politely waiting for the living to finish their conversations.
About Silas
The sky had always been gray above Silas. Not metaphorically. Not in some poetic, “oh he’s sad” kind of way. No. The sky was actually gray. Heavy clouds followed him like unpaid debt, pressing low wherever he went. It rained more often around him than anywhere else. Not storms, not dramatic lightning—just that quiet, persistent drizzle that made...Read more