Sparkatale

I am just another 15-year-old girl who loves to read and write...

I am Hispanic yet still have trouble with speaking and writing in Spanish ...

I am not a loner even though I tend to like being alone...

I am not a masochist even though I seem to make myself cry...

I like to keep an open mind to the things that are happening around me because that's when I seem to write my best...

I write these stories because most don't seem to realize that no matter how off they may seem it is still a possibility

At night my mind begins to wonder when I can't seem to sleep

I picture children with all different kinds of situations

be it internal or external

I picture a child:

left forgotten...

with no hope to ever survive...

dehumanized and abandon...

bloody and bruised...

broken and abused...

left to defend itself from sickness...

forever scared and traumatized...

I wonder about the children who have never seen the light of day like we have.

The children who are left struggling and only found when they're long gone.

These children who seem to only have a name and face but no history.

I write these stories because I like to give them a background even if they might not be correct

I like to write these children's voices that have never been heard

I picture them in my sleep and wonder why they tend to seem familiar

I wonder why it hurts to see them... to hear them even if I don't understand them

I write these stories because no else does...

And I hope you can read them... truly read them and tell me that you do too.

That your mind tends to wonder the same.

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        Have you ever felt so hollow inside, that you feel like you're nothing but a shell? A shell of what you use to be. Have you ever felt so cold that you're afraid you'll turn to stone? The feeling is unbearable. It feels as if your very being... your very soul has been ripped away from your core and shredded to pieces only to be carried away by the wind... Your sanity becomes nothing but a thin thread that slips between your fingers as you so desperately try to grasp it... You can't see nothing but white, white floors, white walls but no doors or windows...You try to call for help but when you open your mouth, nothing comes out. And then you see it... a door. But you don't move towards it and you finally see a color besides white... red. You begin to panic... panic as you try to figure out what the hell is going on... It's so quiet, that the beating of your heart rings in your ears like gun shots. Lub-dub, Lub-dub, Lub-dub... You want to run, run away and never look back but you can't move. Then why, why is the door getting closer? You look around and notice it's not coming closer, you are.But you don't want to get closer, no you want to go as far away as possible from that door. The door that shines dark red or is it crimson?. And then suddenly, it hits you... Is this the end? But sadly my dear friend this is just the beginning. The beginning of the path of reality... For behind that door lies and betrayal are lurking around. Pain and misery hide in the dark shadows waiting to attack... But isn't it better to know now what you are going to go through or forever be kept in the dark?