This is one of those stories where you're given a sentence to start with. It turned out a little... odd. <shrugs> Ah well, I'm not perfect.
Life is like Rain to Hail
Clarice was the kind of kid who picked out the soft insides of the bun. Life was always so protective for Clarice. He was an odd sort.
One day, Clarice was walking home from school—which wasn't very easy for him since he could go 100 meters without having to catch his breath—when two kids barreled up to him. Clarice did not know these kids, but they didn't exactly look too
friendly. The first thing they said to him did nothing to ease his mind.
"Where you headn' to, pudgy?" asked the smaller one.
Clarice didn't answer.
"Hey, kid, we're talking to you!" the bigger one yelled, stepping in front of Clarice.
A surge of fear swept over Clarice. His chin began to shake. Noticing this, the bigger of the two began to grin.
"Don't worry, kid, we won't bite you."
Clarice shook his head. "Go away," he murmured fearfully, looking down at the sidewalk.
The kids laughed. Clarice tried to get past the bigger kid, but he shoved him back, his laughter stopping instantly.
"Hey. No. Don't be goin' runnin' anywhere," he scolded Clarice.
Clarice shied away. The other one grabbed Clarice's backpack and shoved him to the ground, scattering his papers over him. Clarice scrambled to pick up his fallen papers. The two kids laughing and kicked his hands, forcing the papers to fly up into the air.
Clarice bit his lip to keep from crying. It didn't work. Tears escaped down his cheeks anyways. The boys had had their fun. They gave one last laugh and ran away. Clarice didn't even bother to pick up his papers. He just walked sullenly home.
People continued to pick on Clarice, the kid who still had his clothes picked out each morning by his ma and lunch made every day for him to take to school. The kid who always kept three sharpened pencils at his desk and got perfect scores. The kid who always turned in his homework and was never yelled at from the teachers. The teachers loved Clarice, their best student. The kid that was shoved into lockers everyday and went home hungry everyday because his lunch was always taken.
A few months later, Clarice's mother died. She was taken by a disease. Her death shook the whole family. They felt vulnerable.
Clarice's father became depressed, and then abusive. He came home late after drinking at a bar. Clarice would usually lock himself in his room, but wasn't always so lucky as to escape the beatings his father gave him mercilessly.
It wasn't long before Clarice was covered with bruises and cuts. He fell back in his school work as he became depressed. His teachers became worried for him. It was as if he just stopped caring.
That was exactly what Clarice had done. He had just stopped caring. This was because everyone had stopped caring for him. No one cared about him. He could be wiped away from the face of the earth and it would just make it easier for his father.
Clarice found himself wanting more and more to be with his mother. He couldn't stand living where no one cared about him. No one cared what he did or didn't do. He was just a burden on his father, who happened to be too drunk to even know he had a son.
A couple months later, a search was set out for Clarice. He had stopped going to school, so the police went to go check out his house.
They found his body. It was hanging from the rafters in the ceiling of his bedroom. Clarice had committed suicide, according to the letter he had left in his pocket. He had seen no reason to continue living, so he decided to get it over with and join his mother early.
His father hadn't known a thing. He was too far gone to recognize his own name. When the police had told him what had happened, he burst with drunken uncontrollable laughter. The police locked him up without hesitation.
Clarice was right, in a way. No one had cared about him. When his funeral was held, no one attended it. His hole was dug and his coffin dropped off next to it.
The only visitor was a dog, who sniffed it in the rain. It let out a shrill howl that would have pierced your heart, had you been there. The rain hit the wood on the coffin steadily. It did not postpone its task to mourn for the poor boy.
Clarice had been a good kid that did nothing to deserve the foul treatment he got, and yet, his life was ruined before he met it halfway.
No one thinks about the kids like Clarice.
No one cares about the kids like Clarice. No one cares.
No one cares…
Adurna Blaze Community Member 
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