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Do we find stories or do stories find us?

One thing that has always intrigued me is the world of stories, this very moment as I am typing these words , I am already getting framed into a story. Isn't it strange, the way we find stories everywhere we go or rather to put it in other way, stories find us no matter where we go. What makes the world of stories intriguing are the never ending possibilities of a make believe world, parallel lives merge and diverge to meet yet other lives. The best part being, we can always give stories an ending no matter sad or happy but we get to write our own story and that is what matters, isn't it?

So the story which found me, while I was least expecting to come across it is about someone who only knew to spread happiness but that's where she wen't wrong. So, she was a butterfly, her wings flimsy. She got attracted by the flashy colours that carried sweet fragnances. She couldn't smell the deep dark odour which lay underneath those flashy smiles. She knew to love life and that was what mattered.
 
Came a strong breeze from the North, it had that robust tinge which could harm her flimsy wings, but could she ever think of anything else apart from him. She let her wings tear apart, she was willing to give away her flight for she wanted to sail with the breeze. While the breeze kept on soothing her heart, she completely forgot to make use of her wings. Life was rolling fine until that gentle breeze turned into a storm. Now, what were she to do? She had long forgotten her wings. All of a sudden things started making sense, how could she ever match her flimsy wings with that of this northern breeze who hadn't for once thought of her before turning into a storm?

She went back to mend her wings which no longer held life but she was learning to be patient. She started her flight again, she stumbled and even broke her wings but she knew that she were to keep trying. With each passing day, she got better but whenever a breeze blew past her, she felt it's chill settling in her heart but she knew that she were to be her own little sunshine to brighten her world.

Her wings have started taking flight and as I see her fly past, I can't but hope that her wings don't get shattered again.

And I know this story would find her at a better pace years from now and as I said it would find it's way to tell me about her. It's not yet time to think of an ending to her story.

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