˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ The dandelion field rustled gently in the soft breeze. Thousands of stars glittered in the sky, occasionally twinkling. The moon was full and round, casting a dim light over the meadow of flowers. A small girl, maybe nine years old at the most, stood in the middle of the field. Her dress was old and wrinkled, as though it hadn’t been ironed in weeks. She had a tiny nose, shining blue eyes, and long, dirty blond hair twisted into a braid. She was beautiful. She picked up a dandelion gently, careful not to break the stem. She held it in her palm for a few moments until finally lifting it up to her lips and blowing away the seeds. They slipped away from her in the breeze, drifting into the cosmos and farther away. The girl smiled and whispered in an unused voice, “Dandelion.”
This is really short but I actually really like it. I hope you do too! If you don’t understand what it means by unused, “dandelion” was her first word because she was mute for the majority of her life.
