It’s not the hairstlye

Her footsteps in the fresh land, bewildered the farmer. Her unkempt hair was a surprise to him. It’s not about the hairstyle; she thought to herself. As she strolled down the fields and darker spots, she settled near the rocky hill. The farmer got concerned for the young lass and decided to strike a deal with the adolescent. “Whoever you are angry on let go dear. They say anger is the first darkness that blinds us.” Why are you here? Following me, she thought. “I am just taking a walk! “ Ah! The child is growing up but the innocence would never fade for some, the farmer walked along smilingly. “Eh. I am actually okay”. “Don’t worry dear I am here to check on my pet Vago”. The lass slowed down unconvincingly at the sight of something spectacular. “Oh my god there’s a fire! Do you know what we should be doing now?  “The farmer turned in her direction and led her amidst the cave like rocks. Those are fireflies. The glow is from within. They flaunt their glitter at dusk. Wow! Is that true? They put up such a wonderful show?! After few silent minutes, are you still angry about something? Do you want me to leave you alone? “No please stay! It just does not matter anymore. Please tell me more about these shiny flies, will you? ” The farmer smiled in relief as he spoke. The inner light had caught on.

This blog is my response to ‘The Daily Post’ ‘s prompt Glitter

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Author: gogal

Pensive pen. Nostalgic nutella. Read through, and you wont regret.

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