Lilac Writes: Choose Your Story
There once was a girl who loved stories. To her, there was nothing more beautiful in all the world. Everything she saw around her – from the bright blue sky overhead and the scent of hot pavement in summer to the soft drizzle of rain beyond a candy shoppe’s window in autumn – all of it was part of a story. Hers. People often begged and pried with greedy eyes and clumsy hands to get at her story. The problem was, she didn’t know how to tell it. She didn’t even know if she wanted to, or if she ever would. It was hers and hers alone to share how and when she chose. Most were insensitive to her feelings. They wished to satisfy their own curiosity and, when her story had concluded, to pat themselves on the back for paying attention to someone so small and broken unlike themselves. Such a life did not suit the girl whose soul was made of ink and stardust. She would not be their object of pity, their plaything, or their inspiration. No. Instead, she kept her own story to herself, tucked away in a little box full of treasures. Few would see the value in her keepsakes, anyway, when they refused to see the true value in her, the value she saw in herself. Though dogged by doubt and fear that muffled the voices of the characters living within her, she continued to extend her pen to those wayward souls. They grabbed its tip and clung there with white knuckles and shuddering breaths until she heaved them up from the inky abyss and onto the pages where they were always meant to live.
