Once upon a time in a land far away, a group of children played outside in the warm spring air. Suddenly, a dark cloud appeared out of nowhere and sent a storm of heavy, cold rain, drenching the kids. They all scattered, running breathlessly for cover. A loud crack and flash of light filled the air and the storm passed as quickly as it had sprung. When everyone wiped the rain from their eyes, they saw their playmate standing burnt in a smoky haze. Of all the children running wildly about, she had been the only one hit. Lightening struck and left her dazed, with her own personal storm cloud above her head.
She didn’t run fast enough.
It’s because she didn’t eat her vegetables before her desert.
God wouldn’t give her more than she could handle.
They all said, thankful it wasn’t themselves who were hit.
Rain poured constantly down on her from the dark cloud that followed her like a lost puppy. No one wanted to play tag with her; no one invited her to picnics; no one shared their lunch with her, for fear of getting wet. Cloaked in their own invincibility, they enjoyed their dry warmth and looked at her with pity and fear. They didn’t want her cooties.
When storm after storm passed and no other child was hit, they soon forgot about her, with her rain-drenched hair and water-wrinkled fingertips. So the little girl packed her things and walked far far away, leaving all her playmates in blissful ignorance.
Not every fairytale has a happy ending.
I know how the story is supposed to go : A period of hot sunny days that parched the earth and began to dry up all the beauty. Flowers died, trees withered, grass browned. At night the little girl walked through the fields sprinkling her rain over all the thirsty plants. They grew and blossomed. When the kids woke in the morning, they had no idea that their land almost soured. To them it was everyday beauty; they took it for granted. Only the little girl could see just how beautiful it was. It took the contrast, her living under a raincloud, to see how beautiful the sun was and how it made everything around her grow. She still lived under that rain cloud, but now she understood.
That’s how my book is supposed to end. I love the idea of writing a book, but a book needs an ending and I haven’t figured it out yet. There has to be something uplifting to make the reader feel good. I have my moments of optimism, but I have not come out of the storm yet. Once I can claw my way out and live in the sunshine again, then I”ll have my story.