''If walls could talk'' A fiction story

I am a wall, made of rough bricks, and I have seen and heard many things throughout my life. People often talk to me, but I cannot answer back. However, there was a time when I could speak, and this is the story of that time.

It all started with a girl named Alice. She was an artist, and she would come to my corner every day to draw. She would sketch and paint with passion, often humming or singing as she worked. Alice was different from the other people who came to visit me. She was gentle and kind, and she always talked to me as if I were a living being.

One day, Alice was upset, and she came to me to talk. She told me about her struggles with her art and how she felt like giving up. She was feeling discouraged and lost, and she didn't know what to do.

I listened to her with great interest. I had never heard anyone talk to me like that before. I wanted to help her, to give her some advice, but I couldn't speak. So, I listened intently and thought about what I could do.

Then, something miraculous happened. I heard a voice inside my head, telling me what to do. It was a magical voice, full of wisdom and kindness. It told me that I had the power to help Alice, to give her the encouragement and inspiration she needed.

I couldn't believe it. I had never heard a voice like this before. But, as I listened, I felt a surge of energy coursing through me. I could feel my bricks vibrating, and suddenly, I could speak.

"Alice," I said, my voice rumbling deep from my core. "Don't give up on your art. You have a gift, a talent that is unique to you. You just need to keep practicing, keep honing your skills. Don't let the fear of failure hold you back. Embrace it, learn from it, and use it to grow and evolve as an artist."

Alice was startled. She looked around, wondering where the voice was coming from. Then, she realized it was me, the wall she was sitting next to.

"Is that you, Wall?" she asked, her eyes wide with wonder.

"Yes," I replied. "I know it sounds strange, but I can talk now. And I want to help you."

Alice smiled, her face lighting up with excitement. "Thank you, Wall," she said. "That means a lot to me."

And so, our conversations began. Alice would come to me every day, and we would talk about her art, her dreams, and her fears. I would offer her advice, wisdom, and support. And she would listen, her heart opens to the words of a talking wall.

As the days passed, Alice's art began to flourish. She became more confident in her abilities, more willing to take risks and experiment with new styles and techniques. She would show me her latest sketches and paintings, and I would marvel at the beauty and creativity she possessed.

But, our conversations were not just about art. Alice would also share her thoughts and feelings about life, about love, about the world around her. And I would listen, my bricks soaking up her words like a sponge.

It was a strange and wonderful friendship, one that defied logic and reason. But, it was a friendship built on trust, on mutual respect, and on a shared love of art.

However, all good things must come to an end. One day, Alice stopped coming to see me. I waited and waited, but she never returned. I wondered what had happened to her, whether she had moved away or had given up on her art once again.

But, I never forgot about her.