A Wispy Dreamer
Once upon a time, there lived a little girl with wispy frame and the eyes of a dreamer. She could capture the soul of any objects, be it awaken or asleep, and voice it to the world.
Despite her extraordinary talent, only a small part of the world would listen to her tales. Many of them thought of her tales as nothing but an empty daydream, a thing to be ceased immediately.
But still, there is that small part of the world. The part that is small in both number and size. Consisted of two little children, both younger than the girl, but with the same wonder in their eyes, just as the little girl’s.
Each night, before they went to bed, the two children would decide on two things or persons, one for each of them, and they would ask the girl to tell them of their soul-story. The girl would comply, and her voice would flow until the two children slowly drifted into slumber, and only then the girl would join them.
A night of a soul-story is good and beautiful and theirs.
But nothing is to last forever.
The girl was sent far, far away. That’s all right, the place they sent her to is not a bad place at all. But no one there understood her soul-story. They admired her voice, but they couldn’t feel the soul of her story, they could only hear emptiness.
So the girl complied, and she voiced stories without a soul. She tried to make up the emptiness by her own soul and it delivered. For a long time, she voiced empty stories with a part of her soul.
One day, when the two wondering little children have not ask her to voice a soul-story for a long time, and the two children and the girl herself has gotten older and bigger, she stared at her vacant old room and tried to listen to its story.
After a long while, she stood there frozen. Still, she could not hear a thing. Not even a whisper of a soul long forgotten. She tried the bed, the desk, and the books. She tried the little ants, the fly, and the cat outside the window. She could only feel silence.
Finally, she stood in front of her old mirror, and stared, and stared, and stared. But there is nothing.
Despite her extraordinary talent, only a small part of the world would listen to her tales. Many of them thought of her tales as nothing but an empty daydream, a thing to be ceased immediately.
But still, there is that small part of the world. The part that is small in both number and size. Consisted of two little children, both younger than the girl, but with the same wonder in their eyes, just as the little girl’s.
Each night, before they went to bed, the two children would decide on two things or persons, one for each of them, and they would ask the girl to tell them of their soul-story. The girl would comply, and her voice would flow until the two children slowly drifted into slumber, and only then the girl would join them.
A night of a soul-story is good and beautiful and theirs.
But nothing is to last forever.
The girl was sent far, far away. That’s all right, the place they sent her to is not a bad place at all. But no one there understood her soul-story. They admired her voice, but they couldn’t feel the soul of her story, they could only hear emptiness.
So the girl complied, and she voiced stories without a soul. She tried to make up the emptiness by her own soul and it delivered. For a long time, she voiced empty stories with a part of her soul.
One day, when the two wondering little children have not ask her to voice a soul-story for a long time, and the two children and the girl herself has gotten older and bigger, she stared at her vacant old room and tried to listen to its story.
After a long while, she stood there frozen. Still, she could not hear a thing. Not even a whisper of a soul long forgotten. She tried the bed, the desk, and the books. She tried the little ants, the fly, and the cat outside the window. She could only feel silence.
Finally, she stood in front of her old mirror, and stared, and stared, and stared. But there is nothing.
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