SS:Piazza di Spagna - Part 12 Upd Aug 2nd - Page 8

Originally posted by: mystique_girl

He'll be gone where? Aren't they supposed to be restricted to their floors ?

Erhm...he will be gone the same day. The lock down will be solved soon. I think I said, the intelligence reports are on its way.

ooh my God, how come i dint find this story of yours😭 but glad that i got to read 6 chapters in one go...awesssome story hasini...totally enjoyed reading it... glad to see you back with another story😊

😍 waiting for the doctor...

Once upon a time, in the far far land of IWriteWhenItRains there lived a girl named H. Now H didn't know what she could do on a fine rainy day and sat down dipping her writing quill into a bottle of indigo ink on her desk. When the monotonous action couldn't remedy the voices in her head, voices of stories she'd wanted to tell, she began doodling alphabets on a few sheets of paper. Just then there was a lightening outside and she cowered from the blinding light that flashed against her window. When H lifted her head to start with her doodling again, she spotted a white wisp of sparkle gently float through the window and her eyes grew wide, a climbing curiosity rose inside her. It descended lower, the ignited globule swaying in the lull of the thin air and made its way to the paper in front of H. The spark settled over the white of the paper and dissolved the same instant when H bent low, observing the entire act in her stupefied ignorance and just as suddenly a shiny smolder came over the edges of the letters there. They came to life and began moving, crossing paths with each other, climbing up to ordered lines and sliding below until they all settled into perfect little sentences, dramatized with intent. It took her a few seconds before she heard the tapping of a little voice in her head, squeaking in a delirious euphoria that her muse had finally arrived. Unbidden she moved, dipping her quill into the ink and began filling the papers with all that was left to be told...

She waited for none...as she wrote anchoring to the voices that spoke to her, sometimes tittering with mirth at their own silly goofs and cried their soul out as they were drowned in their chasms of loss.

When she was done with the story, the papers flew from her stack as a gust of pixie wind came through the door, the billows of thin sheets floating up as rising balloons onto the sky. She ran with them, chasing them until they all flew away as shiny dots into the horizon. H returned home, to her desk by the window only to find her ink pot dry and barren as her mind. Then much later in the night, as she sat by the window wishing for her muse to come by, she heard an echo in the wind tell her of another day that will arrive, carrying with it the secrets of her elusive sprightly muse...

Her muse came back just as promised but her heart soon shriveled when she saw that she still had no ink to write.

And she waits to pen down even as her muse awaits for her ink to appear in the far far land of IWriteWhenItRains...

***

So now tell me how do you fill the ink pot?

Yeah! goofy story...just ignore.

@ Manashi: Sorry, I missed that entire page of comments...

Yes. That attire is what I was going for. Nice pic.

Oh! nothing...but its kind of you to be making Kichdi and Pakoras...😛

For now, I'm at Will-O'-the-Wisp, it might take a few days before I come back here.

Beautiful story of little H, I wish I fill her ink bottle, or be the paper on which she writes.

Originally posted by: 6th.Element

@ Manashi: Sorry, I missed that entire page of comments...

Yes. That attire is what I was going for. Nice pic.