This is based on a storybook I made when I was 6 years old. I drew it using a pencil, out of a piece of manila paper. This is my very first short story. -Pol
Once, there was a man who hated everything.
He hated his bed. He hated the view out his window. He hated the pancakes and honey on his dining table and hated the knob and the hinges on his door.
In fact, he hated his whole house.
He hated the grass and he hated the trees. He hated the leaves growing among themselves. He hated the pebbles and hated the rocks and the boulders. He hated the butterflies and the bees flying on the blossoms.
In fact, he hated the flowers.
He hated the worms and hated the birds. He hated the road and how it stretched to the horizon. He hated how the sun hid behind the clouds. He hated the hint of a rainbow up in the sky.
In fact, he hated the sky.
One night it rained, the man went outside. He hated the wind. He hated the dark and he hated the thunder.
He hated the moon and hated how the stars hid behind the clouds. He hated the twigs and the waves and the waters.
In fact, he hated the sea.
He hated his two bare toes, and hated one more thing.
He hated that he was alone.
Out on that open space, the man was struck by lightning.
And he died.
That is the story of the man who hated everything.