My love for books

As I caress the page softly, the words meet my imagination in dappling shades of yellow and pink. The winds sweeping our thoughts into stories, magical prose it is. I have been writing for as long as I can remember and I have been storytelling for even longer. Before I had read my first book, I laid under the covers of my bed, and I was immersed in stories even then. Ere long, words created worlds and realms for me. I would be whispering stories but it was mostly a creative activity for my mind, for I always had imagination and wonder. I could not spell many words, and yet stories were still invented through my presence. Soon enough, I had started putting words to paper with my blue pen. Mind you, it was a pen I treasured for years and it took a great deal of imagination to create endearing characters and vivid worlds through all I had experienced then. There were worlds of MAC lipstick, animal descriptions, and flower fairies in my earliest stories. At some point, young writers begin

 Our eyes can see a great many things; they are given to experience the world. Eyes have defined what really appears to be in front of us. However, there is no defined statement of what is real because what humans believe is most true. How beautiful it is when there is a soft hint of imagination gleaning into our world, for we live and breathe here on in fairyland as we make of it. In Pages and Co: Tilly and the Bookwanderers by Anna James, Tilly and her friends wander inside books and live with the fictional characters that have laid gently in their imagination all along. One day, they realize that they are truly a part of this world. Please don't acknowledge this as a fictional story as I already know you will. All book lovers wander into books and can experience the characters in their countenance. If only our eyes were not so finite, it would have been simple. Tilly goes by the phrase, "Be brave, be curious, be kind." These words have the lessons she learns from her

 I often write long short stories that are easily longer than a thousand words and I have even written a novella that I am rather proud of. I have written quite a few messy drafts of novels when I was younger and I am currently brainstorming ideas for a novel-length manuscript that I could hopefully publish one day. Last year during the month of November in eighth grade, I wrote a flash fiction story, The Day's End for my Creative Writing Club where we were tasked in writing a short piece, which could turn out to be a story, poem, or essay based on a picture of a foggy city. While flash fiction stories may not have much substance because of their length, I am determined to continue writing in this genre. Flash fiction may sometimes feel more like a poem than a story. The microscopic piece of fiction created is usually less than four hundred words, but it can be a few words longer. The Day's End is a complex story about a character's interaction with her mind.  The Day’s End

In elementary school, students are tasked with merely writing book reports, reviews, summaries, and descriptive paragraphs comparing texts. In middle school, English teachers introduce their students to a deep analysis of texts. In sixth grade, students are permitted to use personal pronouns to express opinions and ideas. Furthermore, there are rigid rules imposed in a structured and coherent format to guide students in writing analytical papers. In seventh grade, personal pronouns, contractions, and any type of informal writing are no longer allowed in the countenance of students' essays. However, students are still encouraged to follow the same format and write a five-paragraph essay with three body paragraphs, an introduction paragraph, and a conclusion paragraph. In eighth grade, our English teacher clearly informed us that creativity is the most important quality in one's life. A creative viewpoint and vivid imagination are evidently required for weaving fictional stories,

I recently published my poetry collection, "On the Orchard of Delight" on Wattpad. These poems delineate the beauties we are surrounded with.  Wattpad story link: https://www.wattpad.com/921613226-on-the-orchard-of-delight-twilight-on-the-road On the Orchard of Delight  Twilight on The Road Stars shine above this world into the divine skies in the air of spirits through the mist. The little comrade of mine in the orchard is sure to be seen.  When the sun sets at twilight, the gold streaks upon our twinkling eyes. The poet’s pen flows on the page, for the aforesaid words are then in the depths of the sea. Lo! Hark at the winds that behold this evening by almighty dreams. At night, silence and loneliness, so dear, stir up the clouds. The night darkens until the presence of first light arrives to kiss pink cheeks. Endearing rapture remains from dusk till dawn in ancient scrolls.  The Journey Home From the golden hills, we now depart. The crimson fades and the music grows faint. 

Today was my fourteenth birthday. In the foreword of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith, Anna Quindlen writes, "In its nearly five hundred pages, nothing much happens." She then goes on to describe why A Tree Grows in Brooklyn has become a classic. She writes that this beloved novel narrates "how life flows like a stream of a river from birth to death and marriage to bigamy." In my allusion to Betty Smith's most renowned novel, I endeavor to show the true meaning of those words and how I have realized the value of them even more on my birthday. The story is a sketch portraying that nothing is meant to happen in our lives and time is eternal. There is no plot to our life stories; only there are characters that come and go walking on the golden road to and fro. My birthday was filled with rapture and joy in its simplicity. I did nothing other than reading and writing, conversing with a few people, and eating cake. Even with parties, the same would have occu