Short Story Continuation:
Why is Creative Writing not prominent in English Classes?
The suited man looks among the crowd of shadowed and ashen faces in the darkly lit room, a firm grimace set permanently to his own face; he nods, short, curt, with no wasted time or effort. They live only for today, never glancing at the past and never looking towards the future. Forever lost and never found. The voice goes out and echoes. "There is no such thing as Creativity. It is nonexistent." Heavy rain clouds hover over the city churning the clay, ash, and smog. They work never faltering, their footsteps in perfect unison, the grunts and groans of the factory sing ghastly songs throughout the night and day, nothing can stop it, and nothing can stop them.
Feet stomp and sink deeply into the wet ground s as they make contact with the earth that has been drenched from the heavy rains. Two children rush through a wooded area their feet uncoordinated and clumsy, their breath heavy and frantic with pani