Meredith's SongA Story by Bethany_Savydescriptive writing about a paintingBethany Savarese A Picture’s Worth The young girl
has a halo of flowers around her head making her seemingly angelic. Her white
dress blows in the wind. She plays a heavenly song. There’s a look of sadness
on her face. Her eyes are full of darkness though, being the windows to her
past. Her cheeks are rosy, as if she has been crying for hours on end. She’s
magical. The world is dark around her until she unleashes the magic within. Her
long black curls are just as dark. How can someone as angelic as Meredith have
so much darkness as well? She
plays her song and the whole meadow around her changes. The great, green,
willow tree behind her starts glowing. The white, silky, flowers in front of
her bloom open. Hideous gnats turn into
beautiful butterflies. Colors pour out and surround her out of no where,
filling up the darkness. Staring with the right and moving its way left. Soon,
her whole world will be filled with color again. Swirls of yellow and blue,
dabs of green and purple just pouring out of her instrument of magic. Where did
she get such a talent? She sees pictures of her past. Her music box with a
unicorn on top. It is pink with a blue mane. Its rider has a smile plaster to
its face. Meredith wishes she could be like that. She can picture her family of
three in a boat rowing to safety from an aggressive sea swell. She wonders how
long the memories will last this time. She hopes they last forever but knows
that nothing can. How can a girl so young posses such magic within? She
thinks of her parents. They lived in a mansion and had butlers and servants
surrounding them. People would walk for miles and miles just to hear them play.
Even when little Meredith was born, they had time for her and for the public.
When she was older, she would perform with them. The townspeople loved her as
much as they loved her parents. It was the saddest day of all, the day her
parents were killed, or should I say murdered. Murdered by the one who goes by
“The Unknown”. He’s a hater of music. He stole all their money and sold all of
their belongings. All but one. Meredith’s mother’s flute. The magic flute. The
flute that brought people together. People that believed in different things
all cam together to hear this magic flute, or better yet to see it. Don’t
be sad little one. After all your parents wouldn’t want you to feel such pain
and sorrow. Carry on their legacy. Show the world that you are still here. Show
the world what you are made of. Keep playing, it’s your passion. It’s in your blood;
it’s what you are made of. It is who you are. Whenever you play, think of them,
for that is the true magic of all. Remembrance. © 2013 Bethany_Savy |
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Added on September 12, 2013 Last Updated on September 12, 2013 Author
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