Crescendo Alternate Ending

The night air was heavy with silence. Clouds drifted across a calm sky, and a full moon shone in the distance. In a small hut on the outskirts of the valley, an old man lay in bed, awake in the peaceful slumber of the village. His breaths came in rattling gasps, his forehead burned, and his joints felt stiff with pain. He shifted on the blankets, his withered hands clenched in fists as he tried to suppress the wave of bitter memories coming to him. His life had been nothing more than work, loss, tragedy. He remembered all of his hope, his ambition, in his youth, and he smiled bitterly. No one would remember him as the man that he had once hoped he would become. Now, as his breathing became heavier and he felt himself fading on the brink of

Memories of the night before became a vivid memory in the recesses of his dimly lit mind, underneath the sunlight's intruding yet blissful gaze and the sensation of silk against his bare skin felt like a euphoria, a river of midnight encased his slender figure and with the scrunch of his refined nose and furrowed knit of his thin eyebrows, he rose from his slumber. Delicate fingertips leisurely danced across the silken sheets which lost its assuaging warmth only to discern that he was gone, Padding through the spacious house far too big for two alone to fill, and too much of a burden for one to find comfort in. To see his lover, clad in a suit that managed to take his breath away immediately

For days he stayed there, curled up by the wall. The sun would rise, somewhere, illumine the mouth of his pitiful den, grace the cold rock in front of him with a soft blue sheen, and set again, immersing his life in empty darkness. One day, two, three, he stopped counting, buried his mind in the chambers of his soul where a soft dim warmth still glowed. Waves of grief passed through, turned him over in riptides of hungriest despair, roaring death pounded nightly at his door, and then, hearing no answer, tore away again, letting warm comfort envelop him and soothe his damaged

A morbid melancholy stole over me. Anxiety gnawed at my heart. I was a living corpse. There was a feeling of chill in the air every day as I felt. I faked illness so as not to go to school. Despair hangs heavy in the stifling air. It was a dreary day for me , cold and without sunshine. I dread people and always avoid people. The door was locked from the inside. A cold grey light crept under the curtains. The windows were secured with locks and bars. The room felt cold and sterile.The flowers faded for want of water. A single lamp was suspended from the ceiling. The clock ticked louder and louder in a quiet room. I regarded the room as a refuge from the outside

There was a burning sensation going down her cheeks, they wouldn't stop. And no matter how hard she tried to hold it back she just ended up sobbing harder, taking large stuttering breaths every second. She could barely see, the tears clouded her eyes and she felt oh-so weak.

“The knocking ceased suddenly, although the echoes of it were still in the house. He heard the chair drawn back, and the door opened. A cold wind rushed up the staircase, and a loud long wail of disappointment and misery gave him courage to run down to her side, and then to the gate beyond. The street light flickering opposite shone on a quiet deserted road.”

he stopped after what felt like forever, his whole body shaking. "fuck," he whispered. he tried to wipe the tears of his face, but his hands were shaking so much he couldn't do it. his side hurt, a lot. it hurt good.

Jack, still trying to overcome his family’s death felt a great numbness in his heart with tears steadily rolling down his cheeks.

Two weeks later, he got a call from Ian's mom that said he had killed himself the night before. Two weeks later, he swore he had never felt such pain before, such sadness, such emptiness, such

The heavy darkness pressed against John's weak chest suffocating him, he fumbled as he tried to locate the flashlight. There was no way to escape this gloomy darkness. The stench of rotting corpses, fresh blood and the damp walls surrounded him in his last dreadful hours. The musty, dank odour crept into his nose. There was dead silence, he could hear his breath in a vigorous pattern. The sweat from his body ran down to his palate, made him realise the agony of a broken heart.

My heart felt as if someone were squeezing it with all their might. I held back my tears not wanting to seem weak.

The loneliness surrounded Clara. Her thoughts consumed her. The sound of the dripping water from the ground above is all she could hear. Around the corner she saw the bright yellow candle light from a Hurrier headed straight towards her, ready to push the cart full of coal through the door. The glistening light became brighter and brighter as she walked towards Clara, her mind subconsciously drifted to a much happier time.

A child stood staring out of the fifth story window. His eyes were peering out into the distance trying to make out any object he could see. At that time there were no streetlights, if he was lucky the dim moonlight might light up the tenebrous surroundings. He would observe the emptiness in the streets. His heart was full of worry causing it to pump with increasing speed. After many strenuous hours of waiting he would finally see one person walking in the midst of the darkness. In an instant, he would dash past the apartment rooms housed with sleeping people, and hastily climbed down the stairs. With such enthusiasm he would greet the only person that would be out at that time of night, his mother.

There was little to no one in the library. The crowd of people seemed to diminish more and more as night came closer. Baekhyun was stuck with his usual shift and he was bored to death. The library was always to quiet at night; the few people left never interacted with each other. Baekhyun felt like he was going to fall asleep any second and he still had fifteen minutes until it was time to lock up. His eyelids kept fluttering shut and it was getting harder to keep them open. His eyelids closed once again and this time he didn't bother to keep them open.

The woman sets the table for two by placing her finest china and silverware meticulously on the surface. Dripping candles cast harsh shadows across her delicate features, light reflecting onto her glistening cheeks; night has fallen and so have her tears. She drifts into her seat, letting her lips hover over the rim of her glass, eyes dark and vacant. A lump forms in her throat and she sips at her wine in attempt to swallow it down, but instead nearly chokes on her own misery. The precious moments of solitude she once craved now turn into an endless stretch of excruciating silence, creating a vast, dismal abyss in its wake. Later, when she returns to an empty bed, she shivers from the chill that sets into her bones and leaves her weeping. She knows this suffering deeply, intimately, knows how the death of her happiness tastes. Loneliness, defined by the feeling of exclusion or isolation, occurs most often when dealing with turmoil in one’s personal life, belonging to different cultures or systems of belief, and failure to conform to certain social standards.