A Story On Smashing Idols

A girl. Standing with her head to the ground, looking at her shoes. She’s young, pretty, full of potential, or so they say. Then again, They say a lot of things.

The girl slowly raises her head and turns her attention to the bat in her hands. It’s normally used for entertainment purposes, but not today. Today, the girl has a different plan in mind. Something she needs to do.

Yet They have crept into her head, screaming for her to walk away. So she stands for a minute before nodding with determination and heading into the factory.

The factory is a small, dark room within the girl’s own heart. But a familiar room, well kept and secret. She turns on the light and a flood of mixed emotions welcomes her in. The cogs, the fire, the metal, all glare back at her. Then she turns her attention to the mission, the reason she is here for this last time.

She approaches the tall shelf with her prized possessions and her greatest joys. The Idols don’t look as shiny as they once were. She grips her bat and swings -as hard as she possibly can. Shattering of glass can be heard for miles. They surely know. But she doesn’t care anymore. 

A Story On Hope

Her mind burned as much as her feet as she took step after painful step. The young traveler had all but given up any thought that her once upon a time could come to a happily ever after. Yet she continued walking. Because that's all she knew to do. Because everyone expected at least that much of her and she didn't want to let them down; she didn't want to let herself down.

But it was dark -this road she followed.

Morning was far out of reach. And she wasn't even sure if she remembered what it felt like. Long gone was the fresh air of a new day; the birds' songs and the sun's rays. All she had now was the cold of night and her desperate thoughts that burned, but did not warm her.

Her bag, slung over her right shoulder, was heavy -full of useless boulders she was constantly throwing from her pack. It took all of her strength not to fall over.

"Help me!" she yelled out when at last she stopped to gain her breath. She was shaking now and tears had formed in her eyes. "Help me," she repeated in a whisper this time. Not sure if anyone could hear her, or if she even wanted someone to.

The traveler stood there, silently, for some time -lost in her fear and brokeness.

But then something changed.

She lifted her head slightly, wiped her tears, picked up her feet, and began to move again. Slowly, onward. And as she looked toward the horizon, she could just make out the sun beginning to rise in the distance. The birds would be chirping soon enough. She could breathe again. And she knew, with all her heart, that day was coming.

A Story on Heroes

Once upon a time there was a girl who thought she could change the world. This girl was everything a normal girl should be; she was smart, pretty, and sensitive. She grew up loving life and loving people, hoping that some day she would have the chance to be a hero.

More than anything else she wanted to save people.

Everywhere she looked people were starving when others had food. They were cold when others were comfortable. They were hurting when others were happy. The girl looked around and could not understand this. Why isn't someone doing something? she asked herself.

As she grew older, the girl continued to ask this. She hoped and wished that someone would step up and make a difference. Then she realized that she herself could. So, when she passed a beggar on the street in her city, she talked to him. She took time to learn his name, providing him with a blanket in the winter and handing him sandwiches when she knew he was hungry.

But the girl felt bad because she couldn't feed every starving person. She cried herself to sleep at night because she was comfortable when others were cold. All she wanted was for people to be genuinely happy! But all she could do was help this one man.

She doubted it would make a real difference. Yet, throughout the years she continued to serve him.

And one day, he began to ask a similar question to the girl's. The beggar wondered why if one little girl could change his life forever, others were not doing the same. Why am I not doing the same? he thought. Soon he knew what he had to do. He could help one other person and, in turn, they could help one more. The girl had taught him that.

Before the girl knew it, she had become a hero.

A Story on Letting Go

There once lived a man. His name was Tom. He was a good man; gentle and kind-hearted. And he was a romantic, with only one true love in life -a rose, tall and beautiful. Tom kept the rose under glass, making sure she was always cared for and protected. He would wake up every morning to see her standing on his dresser, and, smiling, he would say to her, "My dear flower, you are more beautiful today than the last time I looked at you!" The rose would bow as if to thank him, and he would take her outside to give her sunlight. He would bring her water when she was thirsty and give her shade when it was too hot. For years this went on, and Tom was genuinely happy.

Until one day, the sun became too hot and the water in the land dried up. It didn't rain for weeks on end. Though Tom did what he could, saving what little water he had for his rose, it wasn't enough for long. The rose soon lost the red that once pulsed through her petals, her stem's thorns that used to make her beauty even more apparent now seemed harsh, and the softness of her shape became horribly stiff. The life in her was gone forever.

But Tom paid no attention. For many more years he kept her on his dresser, greeting her every morning and kissing her goodnight when the moon came out. He continued to offer her water, even though she did not drink. But no matter how much he ignored the signs, deep down Tom knew what was clear to everyone -the rose, his rose, was lifeless.

Thirty years went by and Tom grew old until he, too, gave up on life. He was found in his home, tucked under the covers of his warm little bed. In his hand he still tightly grasped one thing -a rose, dead and gone.

A Story on Comfort

Once upon a time, in a land very much like the one outside your window, there was a girl named Hallie. Hallie was your average teenager in the twenty-first century who surfed the net too often, read People magazine, and listened to Rihanna on the radio.

However, one thing made her different than others -she lived on a couch. It wasn't that she didn't have a real home. She did. And it wasn't that she had health issues. She didn't. And it definitely wasn't that the couch was magical or somewhat out of the ordinary. It wasn't. In fact, Hallie's mom had talked of getting rid of it for ages. But the puffy brown couch still sat taunting Hallie whenever she stepped off it to go to school or get something to eat.

So, there Hallie sat most of the time. As days turned to months and summer to winter. There she sat as her brother graduated from high school and her dad got promoted. She knew this couch inside and out. Sometimes, when everyone else was asleep she would turn over its pillows or take them off completely. Yet she would always put them back on and continue to sit.

She sat there through her parents' failed attempts at bribery and her sister's pleas to come play. When her dog got hit by a car, she sat hugging a pillow instead of Sparky. While her sister was on her first date, Hallie swung her feet with thoughts of love. And when a classmate invited her to a party, she went home and sat instead.

And that is where this story ends. On a couch inside a house. There Hallie spent her life.

At least she was comfortable.