Art doesn't reflect life, it reflects life's consequences.
"The Navigator's Journal only came into existence as a result of my stupid actions. It was work to show for every decision and choice. No, I'm not proud of every decision and choice, but I refuse to deny it," I spoke into the microphone.
"So what you are telling me is that you accidentally wrote a number one New York Times bestseller?" the interviewer questioned.
"You can say that. Or you can say the world wrote it for me. I was just lucky enough to listen with my hands and a writing utensil. I took my surroundings and chose how I wanted to portray them. Simple."
I got an applause. I peered into the audience and saw who was there. Ocean, Adelaide, my mother and father, and Medina. Rafael was busy on this particular day for some reason, don't ask me why.
I felt another presence there in the huge crowd. In the back of the audience was a man with a baseball cap on and a hoodie. I could barely see his face but it didn't take that much brain usage to figure out who it was. This was nearly a repeat of that May afternoon, only colder.
He was watching again. I winked and he gave a small wave before letting me answer the interviewer's next question.
YOU ARE READING
Black Lotus
Teen FictionHer name was Oasis Kai Evans, and she was sick of being the oddball in life. She was that black girl who was always stuck in between. Oasis is always underappreciated and taken for granted. At school in the morning, nobody would want to talk to her...
