I'm a fangirl. I love food and WiFi. I love to read, watch, draw, and learn. I want to travel the world. I want to leave a mark on this world.
Any tips? On the writing? Does it make you feel there? x
Written By: Ezabella
April 9, 2015
It was silent, except for the occasional bird, the cry of a crow or rooster, and the cool wind lightly blowing the wind chimes. Three birds sat on the wires before flying away, one going on the bare tree outside the fence. Later, there was another bird, but as soon as I got close, it flew away to join the other bird. For the millionth time, I wondered if animals could understand me, and I just couldn’t understand them. The bird feeder lay spilled on the ground.
An airplane flew by, and I wished I could be riding on it. I’ve been living here for way too long, and I was getting sick of it. If only I was flying away, maybe I could start all over again.
The sun shown bright white, with rays emitting from it in a purplish color and a green ring surrounding it. Not a view you see everyday, but then again, I hardly go outside anyway. There was one small piece of cloud in the otherwise clear blue sky, and then, lower, behind the bare trees outside the fence, was a cluster of clouds. Today the sky looked real to me, and very much unlike a painting. Not that I could paint that well or anything, but still. In the backyard, the trees had small green saplings growing all over them.
There was snow under the shadows, with some peeking out from under. It looked whiter, less bluish in the sun. Had it snowed recently? I had no clue. Maybe I should try going outside more often- it wouldn’t kill me. There was snow on the brown dirt, with dead leaves and twigs, except for one small green plant growing. It reminded me of hope and beauty. Then it reminded me of the world, which often had hardly any good except for that small burst. In some places, there was snow on the wet grass, which sparkled dimly in the sunlight. The wood was wet, with little snow on it. Snow melted on the roof, falling to the clean, green grass. There was a figure of a bronze sun on the roof, smiling in wicked sort of way. A small metal swing was to the right, with a rag drying on top of it. You could only sit on it, because you couldn’t swing too far back without hitting the bush behind it. The bush next to it had a statue of angel, his hands pressed together, looking at the sky. I doubted angels looked like babies, but then again, how would I know? There were three small purple flowers next to the snow, with leaves so dark around them you could mistake it as dirt. The pavement was cold, and after stepping on the wet rag, there were foot prints. Shadows were cast on the rocks, making one side in the light and the other in the dark, and it reminded me of good and evil, and how it was never that simple. I have the weirdest thoughts sometimes. It’s not like I’ve ever got my chance to be a hero anyway, so I wasn’t exactly speaking from experience of fighting evil. The only place I get to be a hero facing evil is in my head, but I wish I could make it somewhere else as well. Wishing, I thought bitterly, that’s all I ever do, isn’t it? I tell myself ‘I’m preparing myself’ or just ‘waiting for the right time’, but deep down I know it’s just a lie because I still haven’t gotten ahead, have I. I just keep leading the same annoying life, everyday. Do I even have a say in it? Sure I do, a voice in my head told me. But do I, do I really? What can I actually do to move my life? Nothing I can think of. Maybe if I-
My thoughts were interrupted by my brother calling me in, asking for help with his homework. As I walked in, seeing my cat sleeping on the floor, I was reminded that maybe I think a little too much.