There Was Once a Girl

In an attempt to expand our creativity, Intern Hannah and I resolved to write a two part short story where I write the first part and Hannah writes the second part. Hope you enjoy the story and look forward to the conclusion of it next week! 

There was once a girl who lived in a small, smoke-polluted town where the sun never shined and the rain was unending. She lived in a soot-covered building where even if the rain were strong enough to wash the ash away, you would be left to see the decaying brick ready to give way from the slightest breeze. Though she was an attractive girl with dirtied blond hair and soft, brown eyes, she scarcely mirrored the other inhabitants. Most residents had more limbs than teeth, stumbling around in a sluggish, dazed trance as they went about their dreary lives.

The saying goes that no matter where you grew up, whether in poverty or catered by servants, everyone hates their hometown. However, for this girl hate was a word used far too liberally. What she felt for her dismal and dilapidated city surpassed hatred and mingled with rage. She despised every crack in the pavement, every spec of soot found in the air, all of the creatures that crawled out of their homes, and each opportunity she missed to run away from it all.

It wasn’t that she was unable to walk out the door, purchase a bus ticket, and be away from all the sadness that lurked in the shell of a once great town. No, she did not leave because she could not give up what made her so special. You see, the night her father packed his bags and left the colorless town, whose name is trivial and long forgotten; the girl cried an unending stream of sorrow upon her mother’s old journal and the floors of the apartment. And though magic has no place in the real world and certainly not in that wretched town, something amazing happened.

Like any child of tragedy, the girl turned towards writing as a way of release, allowing the words to flow onto paper as clearly and easily as her tears. Yet, when she wrote her wild fantasies within the apartment and in her mother’s journal something incredible happened. Exactly twenty-four hours after writing a story everything she wrote about came true.

If she were to write a description of her protagonist, encompassing every detail about his personality and physical nature, right down to whiteness of his teeth, he would show up a day later, sitting on her raggedy sofa and waiting to find out what to do next. However, if the newly created protagonist were to step outside the city lines or the girl were to do the same with the journal, the magic would be lost forever and she’d spend the rest of her days unable to bring her writing to life.

Stay tuned for next week’s blog post, where Intern Hannah will write the second half of this short story. As always have a wonderful weekend and continue to explore your creativity through writing! #InternIan

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