She went back to the same field that night. Although she could barely see her hands, she continued walking on. She felt the stars compelling her to thank them.
Maibelle whispered a silent thank-you. The corners of her slightly chapped lips curved upwards, forming a slight smile, one that she would regret in years to come. The stars were extremely sparkly that night,they reminded her fondly of the twinkle Ian used to have in his eyes whenever he saw them.
She made a wish, a wish for them to return. Somehow,she could faintly hear the murmur of the stars.It seemed like they were contemplating on whether to fulfill her wish.
She glanced around to make sure that the field was empty. Empty, so that no one would learn of the ritual she was about to conduct. She ran past the prickly grass blades, ran past the rats scurrying about in the dark, to the bald patch of ground.
It stuck out like a sore thumb, like a masked loner in the midst of all the butterflies, like a scar that would never fade.
She knew it had to be the one. She bit her thumb and let the salty blood blend in wih her sugar tears, forming a concoction. She sprinkled it on the dusty ugly surface, in the shape of her wishes. She was unsure whether the stars were satisfied.But she was satisfied.
Thunders crackled, dark clouds overpowered the sky, leaving only a tiny glimpse of light. The clouds, forcefully torn apart, left unsightly rough edges. Heavy raindrops pounded on her, hammering her to the ground.
Finally, this post has resurfaced after one year plus? close to two years. This has gotta be one of my most favourite story?post?tale? ever, whatever u may wish to call it.
I love that its totally mine. I love that its started off as a boring composition that i attempted to slip through, but has now become something that i hold so close to. I love that use of words could transform a whatsoever boring storyline into a totally unique story. I love it that im finally able to put to use what i have learnt during all my years in st margs : ) I even love that this short story was written in the midst of my o-level buzz. gosh, i sure do misss that green school and polka dotted dress loads!
I have yet to write a sequel to the story. Sigh.. Inspiration, where are you? Sometimes i feel that the punch to some stories is that it keeps people wondering what will happen next. Maybe, thats just an excuse to my laziness.
One of my japan photos. Many more coming soon. : )
