The Life of a Story

It starts as an idea, a tiny spark of creativity and thought as she lies quietly in the darkness. She’s laid here for hours in hopes it might come to her and show her the way.

With invisible wings it takes flight and she writes swiftly to keep up with its twisting course. Characters materialize, their hands outstretched, helping her along the way. They do not speak on their own, but with the words she speaks for them. Their faces are beautiful, exactly as she imagined. Like ghosts of her own imagination they haunt her dreams, whispering to her as she sleeps.

As she accepts their helping hands the path becomes clearer, her surroundings more detailed. She sees mountains with tips so white it’s as if they were dipped in the clouds. Green trees and plants, colourful flowers and animals never seen before by anyone. These creatures exist only in her mind and she sketches their details on white parchment paper.

She stands on a hill far away from the scene and she watches this world unfold like something from a dream.

It’s finally real, her dream is now a book for others to read. To think it all began with a simple idea. And as she opens the hard cover of the book in her hands, she swears she sees it take its first breath.

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