Once upon a time..

there was a little girl who dreamed of her future, when she dreamt it was full of success and happyness. (I know how to use spell check I just like how it looks) She was given all the tools she needed in life to fulfill her every wish and dream, she knew the sky was never the limit. So she reached up higher than even her dreams took her. She wanted to write, her success would be measured by the people she touched, not the money she made. Her mind was made up and she began to write and never stopped. If she was sad she wrote, happy she wrote, hurt she wrote, at times writing so fast her pen was barely able to keep up. She wrote so much it spilled from her paper to the floor where she would pick up the words and feelings and carry them with her. She thought in writing, every moment of her life she narrated like a story to one day be told. She wrote so well she was ask to write for church events, she wrote for her high school and college newspapers. She even had her poems published in a calendar, to this day she knows every word of the poems. She wrote shorts stories that her professors read aloud to the class as an example of how to paint pictures with words. The callous on her right middle finger was her trophy of a job well done.

This little girl was so very happy writing, then one day her ability to write was taken from her, stolen, and she didn't even realize it had gone. She decided to seek other things in life and decided that writing could wait. She thought that she would be able to pick up her pen and it would guide her like it once did before. But now when she picks up the pen, nothing flows from it. She has tried to gather up all her dropped words and feelings to put them back on the paper, but they would continue to fall to the floor, and again she would pick them up. All the passion and pain she could make others feel were trapped inside her now. It was all building up with no where to flow.

Then one day the little girl had her own little girl. All the talent for writing she thought was lost was really just given away...to her little girl.  She also passed along all the tools she would need in life, she can only hope her daughter uses them. Now the grown girl watches her little girl, full of passion for writing, paint pretty and sometimes ugly pictures with words.

The end.