Just sometimes back I was thinking how as kids we used to make stories and stated them as facts , I would talk about fairies making rounds around me and bunnies giving me chocolates how that small tent would become my whole world and just a book of pictures would take me to another world. It has all been so easy to twist the fiction into facts and make it our reality . Among all of this we grew up and today when we really have a lot to say and scream we press our eyes close and clench our fists , we are able to hold the truth and tell it in a form of story so that we aren't caught. You get my point? The way I tell tales scares me cause I am often addressing the harsh truth. May be I am not a very good story teller rather a better liar , someone who can play with words and maybe I make fool out of this world by presenting it that way.
Let me tell you this the story of tinker bell is as real as the story of me . We hold truth in every word we say but it really depends on how we convey it.
Once upon a time there was a girl who wore stars in her hair , one day she met a person whom she mistakenly thought had moon in his hand so she went towards him after some steps he turned around and snacthed away the stars from her hair and threw the moon on the ground , looks like he wanted the stars, she cried but looked down only to find out it was a mere stone with a bit glitter on. That person then pushed the girl into a dark hole and leapt away. It took her so much time to come out of that dark place and after long period of time I can tell you one thing - She found the stars shinier to wear in her hair.
Now tell me what did I just said ? wasn't this fiction fascinating enough for one to wonder a girl with stars in her hair ? well yes a beautiful tale.
About the Creator
shireen naaz
I am an 18 year old Y/A so the world to me is a very strange place right now I am still learning, experiencing and discovering new aspects of life so maybe with me you can once again see the world differently.
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More stories from shireen naaz and writers in Poets and other communities.
In the mirror.
Mirrors have always been a reflection of ''what we are'' but they tell nothing about ''who we are'' to me personally which is the whole point of our existence. who are we from inside . I wish the mirror could tell how much sadness resided inside us , the happiness we have, the doubts that often makes our chest pain, the kindness that keeps us alive , this all can't be seen. So now that it has been months to the event that took my being away for a while , I feel ready to talk about it now , that I have gotten over it . In those months the mirror was my biggest rival cause whenever I used to look in it only the face felt familiar the hair and lips the nose too but the eyes! I would keep searching for the spark , the smile , the soul everything in me but the mirror just couldn't be the way. I stopped looking in the mirror , my pride was lying in the dirt and so I couldn't look up, for sometimes all of me lost . As a person you can afford losing everything but not oneself.
By shireen naaz11 months ago in Poets
Six Feet Under
Buried alive. What a horrible way to go. Yazz lay there, in her own thoughts. What else could she do? She was hungry, thirsty, tired, mentally, and physically exhausted, and more than anything, she was bored. She hoped she would die of boredom before anything else, anything else would've been more painful. Like many people had, she and her friends had talked about what they reckon the worst ways to die were, it was a morbid subject, but it came up every now and again. Yazz had always been one to argue her point on drowning, others had mentioned burning alive, slowly and painfully bleeding to death, hung drawn and quartered, and being starved to death. It was strange that none of them had considered being buried alive, it had never come up. But now, she was thinking back to those conversations her and her friends had had, how could they have not thought about it? It took a lot longer than the others, you were completely confined, you couldn't move or do anything, you just had to wait, until your body was physically unable to support a life system anymore, which could take up to four days. Four! By far the longest out of all of them. She recounted some of these conversations just to try and pass the time, anything to pass the time. It was difficult to know how much time had passed since she had been underground, it was difficult to know anything. There were many things that Yazz didn't know, she didn't know where she was, she didn't know how she'd got into the coffin, she'd just woken up there. Yazz also didn't know what time it was, or even what day it was, she guessed at Tuesday, it was Sunday evening when she'd been buried alive, intentionally, and although it had felt like weeks had passed, she was still alive, which means she hadn't died from dehydration, and therefore it couldn't have been more than four days.
By Liam Storma day ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Thats a fascinating one.💖 "We hold truth in every word we say but it really depends on how we convey it." So i wonder what this girl with stars in her hair wants to convey from this story? Please! Can you conclude it for me?
So impressive