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by kv
Rated: 13+ · Interactive · Emotional · #2118830
This is a short story/ poem about war and how it effects the life on people.

This is a short story/ poem about war and how it effects the life on people.

This is an interactive story. Each chapter tells part of the story and often ends with multiple choices. Make a choice and move to the next chapter in your story. When you reach a chapter that hasn't been written yet, don't be shy... make an addition!
The creator of this Interactive Story provides this information and guidance:
In a beautiful manner she used to hold that brush and paint those empty pages.
Everyone on that street used to stare then admire and talk about life having different phases.
Her beautiful eyes were always focused on those pages and her hands were in love with a brush.
When her eyes used to see what she used to paint then her lips used to blush.
That pure joy that she used to get from those colors was gold.
Those colors were thrown on those pages to portray empathy in a world which is so cold.
She used to paint about hope, faith, love and happiness.
But she used to spend nights on failure, despair and gloominess.
All those loved ones that she lost in a civil war use to haunt her in the night.
So messages of peace and humanity on the street in the dark she used to write.
She tried everything that she could have tried to convince everyone that love is the only reality.
She used to sell balloons with a happy sticker to children under a tree.
In the winters she used to sit near the fire and sing.
She used to sing and let winter go away and wait for spring.
She believed that this is how one should let the bad times go.
Then the winds of happiness will have plenty to show.
One day people were mad at each other again, there were bottles flying in the air.
Blood was on those messages of peace that she used to write in the night, blood was everywhere.
In that moment of madness she got stuck in her memories about how she lost everything.
She was missing how she used to go on trip with her family every spring.
Then she saw that across the street a girl was crying while bullets and stones were flying.
The little girl was hiding herself behind a pole, she was trying to get to her family, that little girl was trying!
That’s when she got to her senses and ran towards that little girl.
She was running to save what she lost and she was running to save her world.
As soon as she got near her she took her out of the line of fire.
But she got hit with a bottle in the head and she was down on the ground with those messages and her desire.
This story was recited to me by that little girl.
That little girl was painting those empty pages and my world.
Little girl is not little anymore but the world is pretty much the same.
The world still is full of hate and the world still thinks that empathy is lame.
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