A Boy and Ganesha (I)

My religion teacher kicked me out of class proving that I probably question the teachings too much. On a free time 1 day, I decided to ask a friend for a writing inspiration and free write for 15min.

  His small hands were dirtied by the charcoal he held, crunching his fist he could see the ever prominent lines, one led towards his wrist, while the other towards his finger. The sky grew dark and soon droplets of rain started to fall, 'a shower,' he thought ' why god must be truly ashamed of my state,' so he proceeded in rubbing both his hands, dissolving the charcoal dust into the rain water. Despite his youth, his hands felt rough, like sandpaper, and soon he found an open cut next to he line near his wrist. Drenched he walked home to his solitary residence, limping through the puddles. At nights like this he remembered again, the pain in his chest, the welling of his eyes and the throbbing in his head, her remembered what he lost on a day like this.
   Naive, he failed to realize the shadow following him from behind. Finally reaching his residence, if you could even call it that, he searched through the darkness for a change of clothes, momentarily forgetting that now it was a luxury unknown to him. It hit him, the like a train crashing hard, it hurts but he was used to it and soon the experience he had numbed the pain. His stomach growled, but he had nothing to calm it, trying to muffle it he decided to rest, like every other days drowning his sorrow in a world of dreams.
   As expected, the next day he woke up, feeling awful and miserable, like a series of bullets piercing his brains. He was ill. He cussed, proving that his mind was far beyond his age. But he realized soon that what he needed to do now was to rest and heal. So he slept again and at least then, he could commemorate them and live the same dimension as they.
   The second time that day, he awoke, a peculiar sight lay ahead of him. A trunk, draped over a gray body. Surely his vision must've been screwed, so he ignored it. Reaching out with his hands he felt his surroundings, something tough, hard and abrasive resembling his hands. This time he opened his eyes and noticed a man with an elephant head in front of him. His glanced at his hands, which lay atop the elephant man's trunk. Scarred he yanked his hands away, 'Mama praised you, and look where's she's at!' he screamed.
   Unstirred, the elephant looked at him with his mesmerizing, gentle eyes. ' Her and your father's death was the doing of Shiva. I have no contribution in that business.' he said patiently.
   'Papa, adored Shiva. Why use the power you have to destroy what is good, they did nothing, why take away the only thing that is mine?' the boy accused.
   Ganesha, could no longer hold his emotions back. Despite his title, his feelings resembled that of a mortal. Dumbfounded, for the first time, he found himself chanting the word 'sorry.'

Author's Note

I wrote this in 15min. No additional time. It was more of a way to keep my mind in place, I took this from my blog. So I am not plagiarizing anyone. I've realized how sad each of my stories sound, while in real life I believe I'm quite... happy? Maybe I should write on a random topic and lock my heart away in chamber somewhere. Or maybe I should write sci-fi.