Somehow Nostalgic

EVERYTHING started like a computer for her...

A  long time ago in a far away land, there lived a princess—scratch that—that sentence is too overused. Life has been a walking computer even since I left my mother's womb.

Let's just say that, we live on an entirely different planet other than Earth where there is an abundant amount of what they call, technology.

Lucky, aren't I? Is it not obvious enough that this is what we should call a life? There is no actual stress, because we all have access to anything! Well, at least for me.

The melancholic humming of the birds at dusk is just so pleasing to the ears. See how they agree with what I was debating about? They chirp like they were singing up to their hearts content.

'Paper who? We have laptops!' This is what Penelope, a Senior Highschool student, always thinks of. And who is this Penelope you may ask? Who else? None other than yours truly!

Ironic, how my mom used to tell me how graceful the past worked. Tell me how the present is not better than what she have had experienced. She would often open a topic involving how she misses to write novels on her note pad. Like how she'd die for another chance to draw on an empty canvas and we would constantly argue about how ridiculous that was.

She can freaking do it on her phone! Why would she need such things? "I have a drawing tablet, anyway," I mumbled under my breath.

I have drawn so many pieces. I have wrote a lot of stories, but I haven't even touched, nor used a traditional pen to write a single letter.

One day, as I was reading a teen fiction novel on my phone by the biggest fountain in town, a young girl approached me.

Hair as black as ebony and eyes that are tinted with hazel, welcomed my sight. 'Beauty...' I thought as I examine the lass in front of me.

Despite the entrancing demeanor that the little girl sported, the ragged clothes ruined it all. The supposed to be white top is not so bright anymore. The pair of jeans doesn't seem to fit her small built, as of the moment.

The warm ambiance amplified the girl's looks. The way her long and lucious hair went waving along the wind, is just priceless. I'll be sure to draw her when I get time.

When I noticed that the child had nothing to say, so I turned away, but then a light poke made me glance back at her, perceiving a bit of annoyance.

With the second gaze of the kid, my heart almost melted, but somehow, I felt weird. A thing or two dawned unto me unknowingly. I think, I've seen her already. She's undeniably familiar.

"Can you teach me how to write my name?" the young one asked, handing a pen and a paper.

It has been so long ever since I saw the said things. "What is your name, then?" I questioned in return.

"Seraph..." the child mentioned, although, rather than acknowledging the presence of the materials that she offered, I quickly took my tablet from the Louis Vuiton bag that I just got a week from now.

Opening the ideal application, I let my mind wander, while I spell out her name on the gadget. 'What a beautiful name for a girl that speaks of that word. Her parents surely thought about it thoroughly. She was named after an angel with accordance to her appearance.'

I held out the tablet for her to see what I wrote. The cold breeze blew our hair as chills run down my spine. "Are you that disgusted to hold something that a filthy beggar had on her hands?" Shock enveloped my being when the lass asked me that mere question.

Before I could even retort a response, she spoke again, "Or is it because of the pen itself?" The kid smiled mischievously, and at last, I remember who she was.