The Girl With the Words

She spent all of her days stretched out on her stomach in the grass, plucking words like dandelion seeds from the thin air and stringing them together. It was a certain desperation, an innately human desire to make some sort of sense out of the vast world around her, that even when she wanted to stop, she couldn’t. This constant rearranging, tangling of words in her mind refused to cease, and though it was restless and unpredictable, she found comfort in the fact that it would always be there for her.

She was destined to tell stories, to weave beauty from this jumbled mess of letters, syllables, and words. IF she couldn’t make sense of her own existence, she would tell the stories of others. She would carve something beautiful from their pain, their sorrow, their happiness. She would find a way to make their ever-changing emotions her own, to show them that she understood. She’d break all of these wild creatures free of their cages and the shackles that bound them, forever determined to set them free into the world. The girl saw them hidden in a toss of dark hair, a wistful smile clinging to a stranger’s lips, the soulful lyrics of a love song, and just like peering into a crystal ball, she knew who they were, what they had overcame, and what lie in store for them.

She was determined to let them be heard.