• ritikapeace 15w

    A Short Story.
    #ritikapeace

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    I opened the door and quietly sneaked in. Everything seemed blurred, misty. I stepped inside, rubbing my eyes. After blinking for a minute, I slowly opened my eyes again to take a clearer picture of where I am?

    "Come here, son." A melodious voice reached my eardrums. 
    "Who are you?" I shrugged a bit. 

    I can feel the aroma of love, I never inhaled. All I had smelled is the odour of hatred always. These clouds don't seem contaminated. I can't see anyone like me here. Just butterflies and caterpillars. Even not many animals. Must be hiding somewhere. Which land I'm in? This ain't my place. It radiates peace, love and kind of beauty I feel with my friends. 

    "Where... Where I am? " My polite and pitched voice echoed. 
    "You are in paradise." The voice...hypnotized me for a minute. 

    This is not real. I clasped my eyes in a conundrum.
    "No! This ain't real so soon. My land is of hope! Not Peace!" and I opened my eyes again. 

    I was back in my room, looking that fan. I sighed deeply, and as I closed those lids, the voice echoed,
    "Your land is not just about hope, it's the only heaven, and it can be real." 

    This can be something else, this can be beautiful... This can be, Paradise?

    © Ritika Peace ||
    Fancy