[Emily]: 252.IS.Ripped Pages of a Book

Type: Short Story/novelle
Date: Unknown
Progress: Started, incomplete
Note: Love this beginning. Don't remember writing it, of course, but still love it. No idea what direction it is heading in.

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The clouds formed over the cool ocean, the cliff high up and above the rushing waters. Birds flew and fell into the deep sapphire, cawing and flying without a care. There was life and death and in between; the good and the bad.

A black and white man stood at the end of the cliff. He was one person, without color or definition. He held a book in his hand, a book large enough to hold all books.

And he ripped the pages from its bindings, throwing the creamy paper into the sea, to dissolve in its weakness, the ink running off the page and into the water, the colorless water that he could barely stand to watch.