Hi. We’re now over half way through #BlogFlash2012 as it’s Day 16 (it seems to be going so fast!). Today’s prompt is A Different World. I’m not going to introduce my piece today, I’m going to let it speak for itself. I hope you like it.
A Different World
In some ways I think everyone has ideas about how they’d like to live in a different world. Being a fantasy author, I can dream up all sorts of fantastical worlds.
A fantasy world
But right now I’m looking at the world we live in. Given the chance, I’d make our world different.
In my different world abject poverty wouldn’t exist; everyone would have enough money to live comfortably, able to pay all their bills and eat properly. Everyone would be equal.
In my world there’d be cures for every disease and no one would suffer pain.
Peace would reign; war wouldn’t exist.
Maybe I’m a dreamer (I am a writer so . . .), but wouldn’t it be great?
What about you?
Hi. It’s Day 15 and the #BlogFlash prompt today is Books. I could wax lyrical about books from sun up to sun down as I’ve loved books ever since I learned to read &*? years ago. I originally wrote a piece about what books mean to me, but I cast it aside and rewrote something more entertaining for you. I hope you like it.
I picked up the book lovingly, examining it. The shininess of the cover, the uncreased spine, the feel of each new page, even the smell impacted on my senses.
I got comfortable and began to read, absorbing myself in the wonderful world and getting to know the characters intimately. I travelled with them, shared their laughter and tears and helped them with their chores. They were my friends now.
I turned another page, engrossed and there was my name. The author had chosen my name for a character. I read on and the world appeared even more real; I could feel the soft breeze, smell the scents and hear my new friends talking to me. I looked around and all I could see was this strange yet wonderful world created by the writer’s imagination.
Girl trapped in a strange world
Gone was my lounge, my furniture, my ornaments and photographs. I peeped through a small window and there it was only I wasn’t curled up on the sofa. A plain black book, all the shininess gone from the jacket lay where I had sat.