She was a writer. A magician they said, pencil as a wand. Her head was full of stories that were craving to we free with poems and thoughts written on her wings. In seconds she could fill a plain sheet of paper. She had the power many didn't. She was able to express herself in no more than words. She could speak her mind with mesmerizing paragraphs and alluring descriptions of the tiniest things.
She dedicated every minute she had to read and write. The idea of not doing so was obnoxious to her. "How can people live without a book in their hands?" she asked herself. "You can go from Saturn to Paris in just pages, in less than a minute, because that's the beauty of it, there is no limit".
Oh what a pity, when her brain surrendered. When she ran out of words and mumbles appeared. Oh what a waste of such a beautiful mind. A mind full of stories was drained in less than a second. She was like a butterfly, with no more poems, no more thoughts. And for the first time in forever, her wings were plain white.
- By: Delilah Apple
YOU ARE READING
little short stories
Random(Written in English) Sometimes (mostly) sad other times happy short stories. It includes LGBTQ+ stories. Feedback is appreciated. Let me know if you notice any spelling mistakes. Hope you enjoy! - DelilahApple
