Words flashed through the air at a million miles an hour, leaving trails of burning stardust behind her eyes. It was the created — and yet not — while she was the creator — and yet not. Words, sensations, emotion, aromas — it all danced just beyond reach of a fingertip.
But sometimes — oh, sometimes she caught up.
Sometimes, when the airy magic-that-was-imagination danced so close she could almost taste it — that was when stark-white became iridescent-rainbow with the power of single word.
Years plodded by as she grappled with her beast. But at last, hard work repaid her. At last, her story was complete. At last, relief.
YOU ARE READING
Ranger's Roundhouse
RandomOne-shots and short-stories from the mind of yours truly! c: Highest ranking: #32 - mirror #12 - Kiwi #5 - WorldWarOne
