The heart of the writer was beautiful and gorgeous.Bigger than no other, never missing a beat to help the ones the get overlooked at because of their past. Her voice was a melody of an old classic song that gets stuck in your head after a while. The writer's eyes hold secrets that people told her, and she promised to take to her grave. Her eyes told her story everything she saw good and bad, life and death. She also has regrets and guilt of the what ifs in her life. The writer's heart is so heavy she can hardly hold all the emotions inside of her. "It's hard to be the one that sees all and says nothing about it." She whispers in the dark of the night. The writer meets so many people that she held to her heart and wishes she can rewrite time, she so sick of losing people that she loves, that leave a hole in her heart. "We will meet again my dear friends, but until then I'll keep going for y'all," She pauses and smiles to herself, " Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. I'm strong like a wolf... I will keep writing your story even if I can't go back and change even though I pray every breath I breath to try to bring you back to me..." The writer softly cries so no one can hear her weep. The writer been too strong for too long to let people see her weakness. The writer looks up at the full moon a tear rolls down her cheek. "Maybe sometimes this world isn't for everyone." She whispers in the dark of the night.
YOU ARE READING
The Stranger under the willow tree
Short StoryOn a frigid and blustery October evening, the radiant moon cast its glow upon a solitary willow tree, perched atop a hill. Beneath the tree sat a mysterious man, clutching a large, worn storybook. Suddenly, his gaze was drawn to a child, no more tha...
