{"sf1_id":686541,"sf2_id":null,"title":"Self Inflicted Wounds: Prolouge","author":"Valt","words":595,"posted_at":"2014-03-30T16:34:00.000Z","tags":["Clean","Husky","Love","M/M","Twisted","prologue","sadness"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/686541-self-inflicted-wounds-prolouge","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/view/686541","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=686541\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"This is going to be a lot more like the Dalmatian Under the Tree. Drama, Drama, Drama. I am writing this because of a movie I have watched, and of a title my friend once wrote. This isn't all going to be sadness and horridness, but it will be there. I hope you enjoy the taste.","content":"Self Inflicted WoundsWritten by TiggyTiger Love: noun 1. great liking or affection. 2. Sexual affection or passion. 3. a\nstrong liking for a thing. 4. a loved\nperson; a sweetheart.5.\nLooking past any and all problems, willing to do anything and everything\nfor that one person. The person that makes you feel Love is a tricky emotion; it can bring out the good,\nand the bad. It can influence the most awful human being to do the kindest of\nthings, and yet somehow it can also cause a person to crumble to pieces,\ncausing them nothing but pain. If I were to ask you to describe love as a scene,\nyou would tell me a happy couple, holding each other; and or showing their love\nin the most intimate of ways. Or, if you wanted to be a bit more artistic, you would\nsay a sunlight field that's grass was softer than silk to the touch and looked\ngreener than any grass you had ever seen. You would then continue to tell me\nabout the beautiful flowers that grew from the ground, making the green grass a\nmere canvas to something even more beautiful.I would say both of these descriptions as bull shit.If I were asked to describe what love is in a scene,\nI would say an elderly man sitting on the side of a street. His clothes\nwreaked, his fur dirty while his tin can in front of him remained empty, all\nthe while dark clouds remain above the city. Dark, swirling clouds that hold this\nman's fate in a simple choice. Why do I describe it like this? It's simple. Love\nhas two ways of going. It all goes well, or it all falls to hell. Just like the\nstorm clouds and the man. The first option, and usually the rare option, is\nthe sky clears up. The grey dissolves into a clear gem blue sky, casting light\ndown onto the city where people continue to give the elderly homeless man some\nspare change.  However, the second option (which is usually the\nmost definite when one sees dark rain clouds) is that the rain comes down. The\nthunder booms, and the lightning strikes the earth with its rage, leaving the\nhomeless man, freezing, cold, and alone. Love is intricate emotion, which can leave one with\nenough money to eat, or can leave you out in the storm. A man once told me that people spend too much time\nworrying about how to get out of a rain. He was one of those people. He is why\nmy storm rages on; and yet it wasn't his fault. His life was rough, hard and when the speck of hope\nshowed its face, there was only darkness to plug it back up. My name is Emmet Daniels, and I am stuck in the\nrain.  It pours down on me hard, like\nthick icicles constantly hitting and scraping my back. Making it harder and\nharder to move on. The thunder and lightning, flashing and booming in a\nconstant beat. It was almost musical. I look up into the sky as my Husky's face reeled through\nmy head like an old movie. He was gone, but I knew I had to push on. This was my rain, and this was me trying to get out\nit. The story is unclear to you, I know. That's why I'm\ngoing to tell you what happened. From when Claye started at my school, till\nwhen he left. Then you can see why my version of love is so twisted, and so\ncontorted.My name is Emmet Daniels, and this is my storm. "}