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A Tale to Tell

A Tale to Tell 4

Through the rusted window panes, the moon dimmed by the night lullabies of the dark clouds shone with its pale white hues. Bare walls throbbing silence, the last little fly near the blaring candle longing for death, the tiny auburn pencil in the dust attuned the quiet night. The wind moved the secret papers scattered on the floor. My eyelids wanted to escape from the curfew of the cupreous evening. I sat on my bed for a while thinking of the things I could never do. The half filled water bottle on the table magnified the silent colours of the smoky night.

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My eyes swam through the shades of my college magazine on the table. The cover picture of the magazine was the creation of my best friend, a photo with myriad hues carved from an artistic heart. Every picture has a story to tell, a story that emerges from a mind full of colours. I thought it imperative to making this same picture the featured image of my article.

little girl The picture whispered a story to me. A story of a young, timid girl, who was born in a mushroomsworld of enormous vastness! She swung in the strings of the world like a mere puppet. Days passed like fallen snowflakes. Little dreams and wishes began to fly and float across her mind like little dandelions. She was forced to shrink herself into the mushrooms of the world that cupped her heart and soul. Little did she realize that dawn would pave the way for the dusk. She was trampled to the darkness – to a cave of wild promises and inhibitions. Through the veil of the spider webs, she could only see the distant blues.

She broke the shell and came out of the utter darkness. It seemed like everything was miles mountainsand miles away from her. She could see her dreams, the snow-touched hills beyond the meadows. Her dreams were far away. She began to love the little things in her life. She found mesmerizing beauty and eternal lessons in the murmlighteningurs of the flowers and the fluttering of the butterflies. She wanted to live with nature and die with it. She began to fly like a bird with innocent eyes and colourful wings. The momentary sadness and failures of her life flashed through her mind like lightning and thunder. But this time, she opened her eyes, opened her mind and opened her heart. It was the moment when the rainbow surfaced out of her.

She sprinkled the colours of joy and roses of serenity upon the entire world. “The greater your storm, the brighter your rainbow”.

rosesThis picture story is a window into your life. Now when I open my eyes and look through the rusted window panes that survived the harsh rains, I see golden moon cracking through the veil of dark clouds. The bare walls were throbbing a note of silent melodious music, the last little fly near the blaring candle celebrating its life upon death, the tiny auburn pencil with a grey crown looking at the sharpened bits and cherishing its hardships, attuned the new night. I closed my eyes, and my eyelids adorned the colours of a rainbow, the colours of my storms.

Maria Brony

Written by Maria Brony

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