''I have never seen myself in the mirror... but I do want to take a look...''
Corn swings in the wind, waiting to be harvested.
''People have described us with the color yellow, associated us with a certain persons hair''
One thing for sure, they can't see their yellowness.
The most beautiful thing of the corn itself.
''People have described us as being tall, having a lot of leaves. They even like to play hide and seek around us...''
''But I guess that's true, it really is high up here. Maybe not as high as some certain machines.''
What is the beauty standard of the corn?
Is it big? Or small? Or maybe just average?
How tall do you have to grow?
How yellow you can be?
Perhaps... you don't have to be yellow at all?
''I don't really know if I am even yellow. What even is color yellow?''
''Some have said it's the color of Sun. But I've seen other corns. They aren't as bright as the Sun.''
''How... how does Sun even see something? I can't even see them properly... maybe... They're blind?''
''But I'm not blind, so I am not the color of the Sun''
''But then... how do I look?''
''How should I look?''
''I think I saw a slightly beautiful corn.''
It was symetrical, the color of wheat, that was next to this cornfield. Wrapped in a very nice shade of green, just like the grass. Not too light, not too dark. The leaves and the stem was tall and healthy. It shined in it's simple, yet elegant beauty.
But then
Something unexpected happened.
The corn, who thought about that other pretty corn, saw something tragic.
Something that they were not ready for.
It was gone.
The beautiful corn was gone.
YOU ARE READING
Corn tales
FanfictionI have no idea what I am doing at this point- A story about a dedicated corn trying to find its meanings of the cornish life.🌽 Dedicated to my discord friends:D
