The Spark

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She looked directly into the spark. Her mother had specifically told her not to but she couldn’t help but stare into it. It felt safe. It felt like home. It was a part of her, a feeling inside she had never been able to explain. And the words still failed her, not because she was young, but because there were no words to describe this feeling.

It was knocked out of her hand to the ground. Her mother had noticed her lingering looks. It filled her mother with anger and fear, this little girl should never be allowed to know her true self. She was more than just a child, she was hope and she was power. Pure, unbridled power.

The thing the little girl hadn’t realised was that she had lit the sparkler she held by pure will. It happened so easily that she didn’t realise that she had done it. There was magic in her eyes and fire in her heart.

Her mother was scared of her. If she could do these things without thinking at this age, to think where she could go as she grew was amazing. Her mother knew this little girl was capable of setting the world on fire and she would try her best to douse the flames at every opportunity.

She did not want the little girl to shine but some people are just born to glow.

xx woeful writes xx

 

 

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