Bright blue mandala-like lines come shining through the darkness. She sat in awe of the geometric shapes that filled her mind. The magical art had a peaceful aura about it. The cats sat close by, equally dumbstruck by the beauty of it. Suddenly, it turned blood red. Beautiful artwork turned into a bloody wound in the sky. She jumped down from the windowsill into her room and called for her guide animal- a fierce black panther. Once the girl was seated on his back, the panther dashed out the door, through the halls, and into the streets of the village. Villagers, crowded into rooms with fright, regained some hope that sparkled in their eyes. She could not see them, though. Her panther continued to race through the streets, getting through to the empty land beyond. The shriveled up grass crunched beneath his paws. He lay down as she swung one leg over and slid off his back. The other sorcerers had already come and were keeping the evil at bay. Yellows and purples and blues streaked through the darkness of her vision, as the others used their magic. She was not here to fight, but to restore the peace as it were before. The sorceress of fire rushed to her with burns mangling her hands. The girl reached for the injured hands, turning hers upright, providing a place of landing. With the burnt hands in hers, greens sparks began exploding in her vision. Once she was finished healing the wounds, the fire sorceress ran off the finish the job. The girl stood still and looked up. Bright explosions of colour filled the air, then settled around her as she watched the sky return to blue. The others left as she began her work. Streaks of green flew through the air. She shot her hands up and produced a lovely green borealis. Green stood a stark contrast against the black in her eyes. Then she brought her hands down, the grass filled back up with green and the flowers bloomed once more. This, she did not see, but she watched as the magic slowly dissipated into the earth. Her panther retrieved her and brought her back to her room.
Her name is life. A little mangled. A little imperfect. But that's just how life is.
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My Short Stories
Truyện NgắnJust a collection of short stories that I wrote in Comp class. Out of all the stuff I've published, read this. I'm actually proud of some of the things in here.
