She sits in a sighing chair too small for her, hunched-over shoulders dappled in aureate sunrise. Her pale fingers clutch the stub of a pencil, the graphite tip quivering slightly as it dances. Scrawled lines form, warped with the years and unshed emotion.

A harsh breath, then the ferocious scrubbing of rubber against paper. Eraser shards flake from the faintly inked lines and drift away— a subtle, fleeting rain.

Memories swirl within her; all the what-ifs and all the if-onlys, soaring and swooping around and around. Something swings open inside, and from the void cascades a tsunami— an endless, torrential wave of moments past. Perhaps, years ago, she would've drowned in the sheer vigor of the water; now she simply floats along its surface, peace beneath her fluttering eyelids.


She was in a schoolyard, by the looks of it; a schoolyard of dull honeyed grass and a sun that set the world ablaze. Children yelped and hooted, their cacophonous symphony paired with swinging limbs. Curves and loops and rods— they explored it all, venturing into every nook and cranny of the painted playground, flaunting the mundane and the impossible.

Yet on the other side of the field was a space so much calmer and more intimate than the mindless frolicking of the others. In it stood a grove of sycamores, their umber branches curving into a roof of gentle green. The wooden picnic table and scattered benches beneath the trees were all but deserted— that is, at first glance.


She exhales quietly, droplets dotting her bleary eyes. How long ago had it been; those very first days, before she was ever graced by friendship's gentle touch?

She yearns, ever so desperately, to remember.

But can she?


Three.

Three sides of a perfect equilateral triangle. Three dimensions of an infinite universe. Three twinkling gems, together on the sand.

Three girls huddled on a dusty bench, their whispers and giggles like music. The trees' virescent glow suspended them in an unworldly fashion, shadows flickering across their interwoven limbs.

A sentence uttered faster than the others.

One face, then two, then three turned to face her.

They asked her name.


It's as if she has bitten into a gumball without knowing what lies within. The sugary outer coat crunches away, dissolving into flexible, pliant gum. The core of a memory is, at best, bittersweet, despite the saccharinity of its exterior.

She had been so certain, then, that she had embarked on something marvelous. It was a journey, per se— and yet it was so much more.

Was it that moment, that a friendship rose from so many others broken? Was it then that the ebony gates sighed ajar, rimmed with age-old strands of emerald ivy? Was it then that songbirds lilted the breathless tale of time, their wings spread in gracious welcome? Or did that instant emerge only after the trials of camaraderie were faced, the golden beads that bound them turned to silver?

So many years have passed since then. So many tears were never shed, so many friends were made and lost; so much laughter faded into somber dimness. Now she dwells in a sea of never-ending numbness, merely a forgotten, forgetting speck on a barren plain.

And yet.


Like stars in the ever-expanding universe, they spiraled closer, each infinitesimal smile and outstretched hand bringing them nearer, nearer, nearer. Three became four became five of them, dancing together in the vast midnight realm they called home. Their every motion formed a swirling, twirling ballet, immaculately synchronized. Together they were a masterpiece, a symphony of gold, each tinkling note and weightless chord heard solely by the heart.

They promised one another that their friendship would be ethereal, eternal; they would remain companions 'til the universe forbade.

But had they— would they?

They could only hope.


She sits in a sighing chair too small for her, hunched-over shoulders dappled in aureate sunrise.

But today is not a day for mindless pondering, of seeking remembrance, as was yesterday. Today is a day to act on the memories she treasures.

Beyond the swooping bay window, a pale apparition of a flower petal drifts to the soil. A lost fragment of something beautiful, yet as it falls, it nourishes the striving sprouts beneath.

And she puts her pencil to paper, a new beginning.

WAOWWW THATS SO PRETTY LJAKLDSJD MY GOODNESS

apart-- wrote:

WAOWWW THATS SO PRETTY LJAKLDSJD MY GOODNESS

thanks so much!

ok you don't know me but WOWOWOWWOOWOWOW SERIOUSLY THIS IS BEAUTIFUL SPEECHLESS

marveIous wrote:

ok you don't know me but WOWOWOWWOOWOWOW SERIOUSLY THIS IS BEAUTIFUL SPEECHLESS

tysm!

seahorse104 wrote:

She sits in a sighing chair too small for her, hunched-over shoulders dappled in aureate sunrise. Her pale fingers clutch the stub of a pencil, the graphite tip quivering slightly as it dances. Scrawled lines form, warped with the years and unshed emotion.

Critique:
1) I like the story, it's amazing! But I wonder if you can make the main character have a name? Then maybe people can understand what she's called and not confused with other girl characters (luckily you only have one character in this story if not, well idk how to explain this XD)

seahorse104 wrote:

◦ ◆ ◦

Three.

Three sides of a perfect equilateral triangle. Three dimensions of an infinite universe. Three twinkling gems, together on the sand.

Three girls huddled on a dusty bench, their whispers and giggles like music. The trees' virescent glow suspended them in an unworldly fashion, shadows flickering across their interwoven limbs.

A sentence uttered faster than the others.

One face, then two, then three turned to face her.

They asked her name.

2) I don't really understand this. I mean three people (or objects) are together. So how are 3 faces turned to her? It's like saying the girl is non-existence like she was never there until three girls noticed her. Also, is the three sides of perfect equilateral triangle just to mention the three girls? (I'm bad at critiquing other ppl plz seek my forgiveness >.<)

seahorse104 wrote:

◦ ◆ ◦

It's as if she has bitten into a gumball without knowing what lies within. The sugary outer coat crunches away, dissolving into flexible, pliant gum. The core of a memory is, at best, bittersweet, despite the saccharinity of its exterior.

She had been so certain, then, that she had embarked on something marvelous. It was a journey, per se— and yet it was so much more.

Was it that moment, that a friendship rose from so many others broken? Was it then that the ebony gates sighed ajar, rimmed with age-old strands of emerald ivy? Was it then that songbirds lilted the breathless tale of time, their wings spread in gracious welcome? Or did that instant emerge only after the trials of camaraderie were faced, the golden beads that bound them turned to silver?

So many years have passed since then. So many tears were never shed, so many friends were made and lost; so much laughter faded into somber dimness. Now she dwells in a sea of never-ending numbness, merely a forgotten, forgetting speck on a barren plain.

And yet.

3) At the part “She had been so certain, then, that she had embarked on something marvelous. It was a journey, per se— and yet it was so much more.” I'm wondering what is after “per se—”. If this is not a mistake, guess that's my understanding problem. And also, the sentence ended with “And yet”. Does that mean something that hasn't come to us yet? If it isn't, then I think you should change it to “And more”. (Like I said, I'm bad at critiquing. So plz correct my mistakes and tell me if I'm wrong AAACK!!)

this is amazing!!!!! i'm looking back on past winners of the writing contest, and this is absolutely crazy good! do you have any suggestions or advice for me?