(P.S. That's my quote :3)
“Literature affects people in unimaginable ways. It’s amazing how the characters and plots in stories stick with us forever, teaching us things nothing else could. Reading is in that way, one of the best things, along with writing, for as a writer, (Everyone is one!) we affect people in beautiful ways, that are imprinted on their hearts forever, and affect people, causing a chain reaction of good. All because somebody took the time to create something from their hearts.”
~Unknown
Gelida stepped onto the snow, the howling winds whipping her hair around like a brown fire, and her breath puffing up in big, smoky clouds. In hand she held a rusty spear, wet from the snow, stubbed by time. Her eyes darted around until she spotted movement. With the agility of a tiger, she tiptoed quietly until reached her destination. A hidden, snow-covered cabin was nestled between a few pines, and she gently knocked on the door. A familiar voice called back, and she walked in, every part of her dripping from wet slush. “I’m here.” she whispered, straining to get ahold of herself, for she was panting in excitement. She greeted the owner. They embraced, and the lady took her by the hand. “I have what you asked for.” the women said with a grin. Out of a cabinet she retrieved a boxy item, which she dusted off with frail hands. The dust flew everywhere, and Gelida coughed into her hand. “A Tale of Two Cities.” she dictated, her words echoing through the lonely cabin. The old lady handed Gelida the book. “This is a classic. Treasure it. I know you treasure knowledge. After all, you are a very smart young lady.” Gelida blushed. “I just love getting lost in a book. It is simply amazing.” The old lady nodded in agreement. She stifled a giggle.“It’ll be the only comfort you get in this tempest world” There was a pause. “How is your mother doing?” “Fine. I guess. Her and Dad are always fighting, and this is my only comfort. Yeah. Like you said.” “Oh, that’s horrid. Parents are supposed to live in unity to bring up their children. I guess it doesn’t always work that way these days. Especially in this cold, solitary place we live in.” Gelida smiled. “Thanks Gia.” She hoisted up her spear, and opened the door, the frosty gales welcoming her back into the outdoors. When she got home, she found her parents yelling, which she purposefully ignored, and stumbled up the steps to her cot. She warmed up some fish, and ate her dinner with the mocking sound of silence. Her parents were always too ignorant to even acknowledge her arrival, so she knew how to take care of herself. She nestled underneath her blanket and pulled the book out. The moon was beginning to rise, and she began to read. “ It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way...”
The morning was a scene of tranquility, as if it had just jumped out of a photograph. The sun was shrouded by a few puffy clouds, and the calls of birds sounded out in joyful harmony. She sheathed herself in a light jacket, a pair of tattered jeans, and a scarf that was wound tightly around her neck. She decided to take a walk in the park, and book clutched, she strode to the Town Central, where a fountain stood, chugging out somewhat frozen water. Only a few people were out at this time, and they were mostly foreigners or tourists. Suddenly, she heard the clap of footsteps on the concrete, and Gia was bounding towards her. “Gelida!” Gia cried, her old, feeble body drained of energy. “What!?” Gelida cried back, worried for the soul. “Are you okay?” “Can’t be better! I was reading my magazines when I found this!” She pulled a colorful paper slip out of her pocketbook, and Gelida quietly took it. “Young authors competition... Free Narrative... BEST STORY WINS 100,000 DOLLARS AND PUBLICATION!!!!??? Imagine all the books we could get! They would stack to the moon! But... I can’t write.” Gia smiled at Gelida. “Why not? Anybody can! That’s the best part about writing. Your ability doesn’t neccesarily have to be innate.” “But... What makes you think I can write? I don’t know a thing about writing. I’m just an average twelve year old girl who loves to read books. Lots and lots of books.” Gia wrapped her arm around Gelida. “Can’t you see? You’re in 6th grade and you can understand Charles Dickens. Do you understand how amazing that is? I bet you have learned so much while reading, so much that you could use to write. After all, I think most famous authors loved to read! Hey, how ‘bout we test my theory out? Look at that tree. Now describe it.” Gelida sighed and closed her eyes. “ A tall winding tree looms above, branches spread out as if it wants to grab somebody. The sun peeks above, a grin of rays across its face, and a thin layer of snow on the ground. The sun’s rays squeeze the snow so hard, it turns to murky water, and the mustiness of it only adds to the element of mystery.” She sighed out and slowly opened her eyes. Gia’s hands were clamping her mouth, eyes wide in captivation, and she began to squeal like a little girl. “That was amazing! I knew you had it in you!” She squeezed the girl’s hand. “ You’re gonna change everything for yourself Gelida. I know it.” They both departed, and as Gelida walked home, she wondered how she would do this.When she got home, she pulled out the crumpled piece of paper and inscribed the information onto a wood block so she wouldn’t forget it. The night went as all of Gelida’s nights went, but instead of reading, she turned her attention to the pile of blank paper before her. She wanted to emerge as an author. Maybe she really did have something. Gia was right after all. Nothing was inhibiting her besides herself. And she was the only one who could stop that fear. The pressure was getting to be too much. Gia administered the weight of the world onto her shoulders, and Gelida wasn’t the kind of person to topple it. But the paper was evilly grinning at her, telling her that she was accomplishing nothing in the next five hours that would follow. She had to write SOMETHING. And the process of transferring thoughts on paper isn’t always easy. In a frustrated manner, she shoved the papers into her desk, and hit the hay.
As if the week wasn’t already eventful, the next morning was full of devastating news. Gelida’s parents had made the overdue decision to divorce, and when Gelida woke up, they were arguing who would take her. “I can’t care for a child. I have a job you know, and it matters to me.” “Why does that matter? The little brat requires so much, and since i’m the one always taking care of her, I don’t deserve the burden!” Gelida held a giggle. Her mom never did anything for her. Neither did her dad. But her giggle soon disappeared when her dad then said the most frightening thing he could have ever said. “Well, if neither of us are taking her, we might as well leave her. She can go live with that old lady. In fact, go upstairs right now and tell her so.” Gelida’s mother began to walk up, so Gelida quickly ran back to bed. “Get up you little brat!” She hissed, shoving a garbage bag in Gelida’s face. “Put your stuff in here, then you’re out of here. I never want to see your disgusting needy face again!” She slammed the door, and Gelida felt tears coming. She hated her parents, and anticipated the day when their fighting would dissolve, but she had never thought it would be like this. Her eyes burned, and she began to feel sick, but knew she could make no contact with her parents. She could hear them screaming downstairs. She shoved her paper, the woodblock, her clothing, and everything else she could stuff into the bag. She then wiped her sleeve and prepared for the worst. Never had she felt this discouraged. She ran out the door, and it clicked, a sound that meant to her “This is it. You’re never coming back to the awful place.” She slugged through the snow, to Gia’s cabin. As soon as Gia saw red-eyed Gelida, she knew what had happened. She hugged her for what seemed like an hour, and Gia began to prepare a bed for Gelida. “It’s okay.” she reassured her, even though she knew it wasn’t ever going to be okay. Gelida sniffled and whispered in a shaky voice “Now I understand the feelings.” “Of what?” “Of the characters i’m gonna be writing about.”
A week later, Spring began, the leaves and the grass were all extremely pale shades of green, and dew lined against every windowsill. Gia walked up to Gelida behind her back, who was stabbing her pencil on the paper as she had continuously been working on for the past few days. Her movements were deft, and her attitude diligent. Gia watched as Gelida scratched the last letter on, and with extra force produced a huge period. She was done. She laughed she cried, she was so overcome by emotion. With the satisfying click of the mailbox door, her story was off to be judged. And the judges knew it would win from the first sentence, The girl stepped onto the snow, the howling winds whipping her hair around like a brown fire, and her breath puffing up in big, smoky clouds.
And when the letter telling Gelida she had won arrived, it came with a special message. “‘But... I can’t write.’ Gia smiled at Gelida. ‘Why not? Anybody can! That’s the best part about writing.’”
At the winner’s ceremony, Gelida dressed up in casual apparel, and out of excitedness, remained motionless when she had to speak. She shed some tears of joy, then began her speech with “There was once a girl who had no idea of ability, no idea of capability. Until her life was changed by a piece of paper. And I believe that lives will always be affected with paper, In a book, in a certificate, in a notification. But mostly, the Book.”
The End
Don't worry, I'm not appalled. My Enchantix story had nothing to do with Jamaa either.
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