Emma Gold

United States

"And from the ashes, a phoenix will rise."

Message from Writer

Writer.
Artist.
Reader.
Slytherin.
Never blindly accept the words they force upon you;
Have always your words ring with iron truth.

Sun, Moon, and Stars

July 1, 2020

PROMPT: Dust Jacket

5
My name is Emma.

A common name, but a sweet one. The meaning being universal. It's true, that -- my name is a universal one, spreading across the seven continents. Two of my friends were named Emma. A coincidence, maybe. Then again, perhaps not.

Some say that a name shapes the person who bears it, that it is their label, their meaning, until the day they die. I disagree. We may have shared a name, but my friends and I were as different as the sun, moon, and stars.
 
One was a year younger than me -- wispy blonde hair, stubborn brown eyes, always tossing herself headfirst into whatever she did. She was kind, when she wanted to be. Sometimes she was spring light, leaning into you with an arm tossed around your shoulders, cheeks a rosy red. Other times she was fall. Overcast, a stormy grey, when she was in her season, her tears fell and fell and fell and there was no stopping them but to comfort her over the smallest of mishaps. To me, she was the sun; blazes tempered by emotions, harshness cooled by generosity.

The other was a few months older. We were like twins in appearance -- our long brown hair tossed over our shoulders, cheeks paler than snow -- but while she was tall and lanky, I was short and sturdily built. But in the end, it made no difference. Some thought we were sisters; maybe we were. But she was calm and steady and kind, her eyes alight with a gentle glow. She was like the moon, cool and soft and giving.

And me. I am the stars. Defiant. Fierce. Strong. Clever. Challenging. Quick-witted. Swift to anger, slow to calm. Unpredictable at best. A pulsing, thrumming flame, one that is heated yet quiet. It is hard to truly know me. Hard to surpass my mental shield and understand who I am. Then again, it is the same for any person.

We are all complex weaves of color, culture, personality, and heart. Very little can be done to change that. But we are more than just a name, more than letters, and we choose to mold that name to ourselves. Those famous? We know them by their names. We know them as the names that they made theirs.

And what other way could we have it?

Login or Signup to provide a comment.

1 Comment
  • BizzleWrites

    This is so incredible! I really LoVe thiS! You are such an amazing writer!


    11 months ago