This is a short story I wrote during my high-school time, about 10 years ago (gee, i'm so old now). I've posted it in this blog and the creative-writers blog before, but recently edited it again for the nth time after receiving an input from an interested reader (thanks to u!). This story is a mere fiction, but influenced me a lot that it changed me into a rather gloomy, aloof and dark person, resembling the dispositions of the main character. Happy reading it, your comments are most welcomed 
...
The Blue Ring
The western sky is getting reddish when you arrive. Dozens of birds fly away, surprised by your coming.
You stand-still for a moment, and then sit down at your favorite place, from which you can see the sun going down beautifully, while the reflection of its golden light is dancing on the clear lake surface.
You used to hate the soaring hill across the lake. You deemed it as a mere blockade to your sight, preventing you from following the movement of the sun. But, now, you’ve seemed to start to understand that without the hill, this place would have not been the place you knew.
You gaze straight ahead. The crimson sky before you used to be the natural phenomenon you loved the most. But now, every time you see it, your heart cries. You miss those times so much; those very precious times to you, which you knew you could never find back.
Your stare is empty. The pictures of that past appear one by one in your mind. Then you laugh, recalling the first time you met Erik. You were here, all alone as you used to. Those you called friends again left you. You were just about to weep over it when out of nowhere he suddenly showed up. He was at your age, around 15, and was seemingly a newcomer at the neighborhood. You had never seen him before. He had sandy hair and a pair of light blue eyes, which were so cheerful and frank you had never seen anything alike before in your life.
He seemed like a mischievous, fearless boy. He knew nothing of you yet was very eager to make you talk. But, that time you were too angry to reply him. You thought, ‘Who the hell is he? He doesn’t even know me, how dare he teases me!’ So instead of saying anything, you gave him scornful look in the eyes, the most indifferent look you could ever show a person. But, even that look failed to discourage him. He ignored it and kept teasing you, and in the end successfully made you burst. You shouted at him, telling him to go away and disappear, but as he did not listen you decided to leave.
Now your eyes move toward the glittering surface of the lake. You smile, remembering that afterwards you became close to him instead. He was a very cheerful boy; enthusiastic about so many things. You never saw him sad nor laden with anything. He liked telling you stories. He told you about lots of things, and encouraged you to do many things. He told you about his favorite books, movies and music; about distant places he had once been in or those that he wanted to visit, about great people, about his dreams, and all other things. Yet he was, too, a good listener. When you spoke, he listened to you carefully; always seemed to be interested in everything that you said, prompting you to talk longer and more often than you had used to. His lively, earnest nature shone a light into your gloomy heart. His laughter, noisy talks brought a life into your inert soul. He is the best thing that has ever happened to you.
You take a deep breath, staring down upon the yellow, knee-high grass encircling your legs, and then upon dozens of marble-size gravels gathering nearby. You reach out your hand and pick up some of those gravels, and then slowly you rose. You walk closer to the lake shore, and one by one begin throwing the gravels into the lake, a game you often played with Erik. He was never bored to challenge you to defeat him, saying that just because you were a girl, it did not mean you could not throw the gravels better than him. “See, you’re getting better,” that was what he always said, though you never did defeat him. Erik’s throws were really far. Combined with the help of his muscle, he had that special technique that made the gravels bounce several times before plunging into the lake. He taught you how to do it, but you never really paid attention because you considered it unimportant.
But, that was seven years ago. Now you’ve grown taller, your arms have longer stretch, and you are definitely stronger. And, on top of all, you’ve learned well the technique.
So now you hold the last gravel on your palm tightly, fixing your eyes at the middle part of the lake, and, with certain movement on your arms, throwing the gravel away.
It bounces a few times before plunging into the waters. You cheer up at once. That is another magnificent throw of yours. None of Eric's, you believe, could ever defeat that. You laugh heartily, your eyes sparkle with light. In your heart you say, 'Look, Erik! Look! Isn’t that such a throw? See? I can defeat you easily now.'
Then the evening wind blows softly upon your face, upon your neck-long dark brown hair, making you shiver. The wind then heads to somewhere else, but it has earlier prompted within you a memory you wish to forget. It was when Erik was talking to his mother in their kitchen. You accidentally heard it when you were about to come in from the already opened back door.
"No way, Mom! I don’t want to go to the hospital. You can’t make me! I won’t stay there!" it was Erik, shouting at his widowed mother; a beautiful young lady who somehow always looked sad.
"But, Honey, we must give it a try. You should never speak like that; we should never give up," Erik mother replied. There was a tremble in her voice as she spoke. And now you thought you heard her sobbing faintly.
"But, Mom, it's useless..." Erik softened. "You know it will be useless; I will never get mended. Whatever they do, Mom, forcing me to drink all those medicines, take all those injections, and taking my blood over and over for the stupid tests… you know in the end I'm gonna die anyway. That‘s what the doctors said."
Erik's mother cried at once, while you… you couldn't help but feeling stunned.
What is this all about that Erik has to go to hospital, and the medicines and the blood tests? What is it all about that he’s going to die? He couldn't be dying; that is nonsense. He looks all right, he looks very healthy. He couldn‘t be dying. What kind of stupid disease he may ever suffer from? It couldn't be it; it couldn't be it. Those were all things engrossing you as you stood silently behind the door. You refused to believe in what you just heard, but your conscience told you that it was true; that something was going on. Tears began rolling down on your cheeks. You heard Erik and his mother continue their conversation, but you could not eardrop it any longer. You abruptly turned around and stepped down the stairs, and that was when Erik saw you and called you.
But, you ignored him. You fled and ran fast, though you were not sure where you were heading to. Eric ran after you, asking you to stop while continually saying that you misunderstood. But, you knew that was not true. You knew he was trying to lie.
The sky is getting dark. You remember the last time Erik took you here. The night was falling down like now, and the disturbed birds flew away when you and him arrived.
He talked much; throwing jokes and telling stories as usual, as if nothing was going on. He didn’t care that you were speechless all the while, only after you continued doing so for another half an hour that he finally spoke up.
"Yes, I'm sick; I’m not as strong as you thought. I'm sick; very very sick and weak. Pathetic, aren‘t I?" he shook his head and, without waiting for your reply, added,
"But, well… can we just forget that? Can we just pretend that there's nothing wrong, that everything is business as usual? Have you ever heard that people will feel sick if they think they are? And for that reason I don‘t want to think nor be reminded that I am sick."
After he said that, he walked closer to the lake. He stared emptily at the waters a second or two, and then after taking a deep breath, he looked brightly at the hill, at the wood on the other side of the lake, and then up at the darkening sky. He enjoyed the evening wind, closing his eyes as he inhaled the air and let the wind blow upon him.
Then he bent down and took some gravels. As he started throwing them into the lake, he again began to talk.
“I've always told you I want to be a great architect. But, I haven't told u, have I, about my biggest dream project?" he stopped there, thinking, before continuing,
"I want to build these skyscraper towers. No, it won’t be just one. It will be connected triplet towers; all have same height and shape. And they will be the tallest buildings on earth, with a triangle bridge connecting each tower…” and there he went on, describing every detail of his dream buildings passionately, did not care whether you really listened.
And at the end of his talk, he said, “I have had that dream since I was little, along with my dream to have adventurous travels around the world, to see new places and people. But, now, after I met you, they have changed a little; the dreams. Now I want to build the towers and do all the adventures with you at my side…” He closed the sentence with a smile, and most affectionate stare at you.
Now warm tears begin rolling down from your glistening eyes as you remember when you visited Erik at the hospital. It was the last time you saw his smiling face. He looked so pale and so weak, but still he smiled. He weakly lifted up his hand and brushed the tears on your face away as he said, with a tremble in his voice, “Hey, relax… I’ll be all right…”
You lift your head up and stare straight upon the western horizon. The sun has completely set down now. There is no more left of its golden light that produced reflection on the lake surface, neither is of the reddish twilight that just painted the sky beautifully.
You can’t hold those loads of tears any longer. Erik has gone. He died of cancer seven years ago. But, still, you cannot forget him. You keep reminiscing him this way. You cry and cry, and let yourself lost in your neverending sorrow.
Duane, don’t you know how pathetic you are? When will you stop doing this? The sun does set, but can’t you see what replace it? They are the stars. There are hundreds of them. No, thousands; even millions. Look at how enchanting they are. If you only look up at the sky and see how they sparkle amid the dark of the night, you would find that one star; the brightest star of all. I’m sure, Duane, if the star were Erik, he must be trying to say this to you, “Shine, Duane, as I do. And one day show people that you can have all your dreams come true.”
Duane, I want to be your best friend. Stay right by your side through the joy and the pain, and cheer you up like Erik used to do. But, well… what can I do? I can perhaps stay around and feel your sorrow, but you can’t even hear me as I am only an inanimate object. I am just a blue ring that you’ve been wearing on your right ring finger.
*
