Hi there! Here’s an extract which I wrote this evening, that I hope you enjoy.
I am a leaf in the stream of time, she told me. I am a breath on the eve of thought.
It meant nothing to me, the words she said, the phrases she exposed as if they were the secrets to the universe, the answer to everything. I half expected her to tell me, 42.
But I missed her exclamations, and I missed her pointless sayings, and her claims to be, a free agent of the universe. They wrote something poetic on her stone, and I frowned because it wasn’t right – not as I knew her.
But did I know her? Did I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the words she wished to be set in stone forever as a symbol of her life, her soul, her existence?
Yes, I did.
I am a feather on the wind of time; I am a shadow on a cloudy night; I am a free agent of Fate.
I am free; that is how she wished to be.
For eternity.
A Teacup Full of Stories 