Words- Prologue
Natara Williams
Words are the greatest indicator of our lives.
It's how we communicate.
How we express ourselves.
Words can cause specific emotions; they can cause you to laugh, cry, become overjoyed, hell… They can even ruin your life.
Words are words. And one little word can speak volumes.
People say that pictures paint a thousand words, which I guess is true….
But here's what I say: Words can paint a billion pictures.
Words, also, can trigger memories.
Like the word: Love
I've been in love. I think.
It's a weird thing. It's one of those words that you can't look up in a dictionary, because if you really think about it, who can truly define it?
Love is subjective.
Moreover, I haven't decided if what I'm feeling is love or just coincidence.
That's another word. Coincidence.
That word paints a picture, as well.
I see a little girl. Really little. She's probably only four or five. Wandering through the woods alone.
Picking flowers from the nature-made fields, she hums a melody to herself. One that she invented all on her own. Her knee-length, lavender dress blows through the wind, as her long, dark hair follows it.
The field seemed to be pulling her into it, towering over her and suffocating her. But she was just a little girl.
How could she ever know? She just wanted her damn flowers.
Still humming the verse, focused only on the song and the task at hand, she ignored everything around her- the buzzing bees, the swaying trees, and the crunching leaves, underneath her tiny feet.
The world was hers. She was just a little girl. That wanted to pick some flowers.
The world was frozen in time, though, when a warm, soft hand rested its weight on her bare shoulder. Dropping her freshly picked floral items, she whipped around. Her hair following.
She gasped, screaming at who she saw. "What are you doing here?! Can't you see I'm busy? Go away!"
She screamed it at the innocent young boy before her. Dark hair, taller than her… but she was just a little girl. It seemed like everybody was taller than her. His eyes matched the color of the sparkling, river only a few feet away.
"I said, leave me be! I'm busy!"
He frowned. "I can't just leave you be… I want to help you. Your hands look a little full."
She was about to scream at him, again. But she didn't, for whatever reason. Instead, she just released a deep sigh. "Fine! But if you pick any one of these wrong… you have to leave! Got it?"
He nodded.
Coincidentally, he didn't wreck a single stem, or tarnish a single petal.
Because she was just a little girl. All she wanted was her goddamn flowers.