Well, I like pretty things, at least.
Like flowers, they're pretty, and smell nice..
Flowers. I like flowers.
That reminds me, I once dreamt of a boy in a field of flowers.
I don't know much of the boy, but I know he liked them too.
He picked himself a bouquet, and walked up to an old little shack he and his friends built years back.
He grabbed a dusty vase, rinsed it, filled it with water, and put the flowers in the vase.
They were beautiful.
He then cleaned up the little table that he grabbed the vase from, and placed the vase right in the middle.
He uniformly placed cloth table mats around the table.
And not too long after his stay, he walked out of the shack.
He then said something that I think about, quite often-
"Of all those that strive and shine around me, why am I the only one who hadn't bloomed yet?"
He looked at his hands, and then he walked off and disappeared into the great distance of the field.
I don't know his goals, but I hope he 'blooms' as he wished.
Oh well.
YOU ARE READING
Brain Ink
Fantasy'My imagination is only an open door in my dreams... It's an endless foreshadow, but I'm always eager for what my resting state of mind brings me.' Hope you enjoy :) This will be a full book- rather than a short story this time. Be patient with me- ...
