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The Little Girl On Emory Lane
Lily's eyes darted around the playground, searching for an escape from the stifling heat and the crushing disappointment of her mother's words. She noticed a figure sitting on a swing, seemingly unfazed by the sound of children playing nearby. The stranger's stillness was like a beacon in the chaos, their posture elegant, almost regal amidst the squeaking metal and the smell of freshly baked asphalt.
As Lily drew closer, she realized the figure was a young woman with long, wavy hair that shimmered in the sunlight. She wore a flowing dress that whispered against the dry grass, the fabric fluttering like a butterfly's wings. Her skin was a canvas of tattoos, intricate patterns that danced across her arms and neck, telling a story Lily could not yet understand.
The woman's eyes met hers, and Lily felt a jolt of energy, like a cool breeze cutting through the heat. They were the color of a stormy sea, a stark contrast to the brightness of the day. The woman offered a soft smile, and the corners of her eyes crinkled with kindness. "You seem troubled," she said, her voice a soothing melody.
Lily nodded, her throat tight. She didn't know why she felt compelled to share her troubles with a complete stranger, but something about this woman made her feel safe. She sat down on the swing beside her and took a deep breath. "My mom won't let me go to Becky's party," she blurted out, the words tumbling from her mouth like water over a cliff. "It's just not fair."
The woman's smile never wavered. "Ah, the trials of growing up," she said, her voice filled with understanding. "Sometimes the world feels like it's holding us back, doesn't it?" She pushed off the ground with her foot, sending the swing into a gentle arc. The chains creaked, and Lily felt a sudden urge to let go of her anger and join the woman in her quiet, rhythmic dance as she practically sang:
Oh, thou troubled heart
What can I make of thee?
Let the earth quake in its stead
Let it bring peace to thy troubled soul.
And this smile written on thine face
Let it transcend to mine
Bringing joy to my heart.
@I_Am_Michael
@thegloriouswrits
As Lily drew closer, she realized the figure was a young woman with long, wavy hair that shimmered in the sunlight. She wore a flowing dress that whispered against the dry grass, the fabric fluttering like a butterfly's wings. Her skin was a canvas of tattoos, intricate patterns that danced across her arms and neck, telling a story Lily could not yet understand.
The woman's eyes met hers, and Lily felt a jolt of energy, like a cool breeze cutting through the heat. They were the color of a stormy sea, a stark contrast to the brightness of the day. The woman offered a soft smile, and the corners of her eyes crinkled with kindness. "You seem troubled," she said, her voice a soothing melody.
Lily nodded, her throat tight. She didn't know why she felt compelled to share her troubles with a complete stranger, but something about this woman made her feel safe. She sat down on the swing beside her and took a deep breath. "My mom won't let me go to Becky's party," she blurted out, the words tumbling from her mouth like water over a cliff. "It's just not fair."
The woman's smile never wavered. "Ah, the trials of growing up," she said, her voice filled with understanding. "Sometimes the world feels like it's holding us back, doesn't it?" She pushed off the ground with her foot, sending the swing into a gentle arc. The chains creaked, and Lily felt a sudden urge to let go of her anger and join the woman in her quiet, rhythmic dance as she practically sang:
Oh, thou troubled heart
What can I make of thee?
Let the earth quake in its stead
Let it bring peace to thy troubled soul.
And this smile written on thine face
Let it transcend to mine
Bringing joy to my heart.
@I_Am_Michael
@thegloriouswrits
