It’s Friendship Day here today and I’ve been rather rudely awakened by all the commotion around me. One of the disadvantages of living in the vicinity of flighty, juvenile girls. The entire concept is rather middle school, as I would say to my best friend if she were here right now. I could almost imagine her standing next to me, being all flighty and juvenile because everyone else was though with a hint of sarcasm and me, I’d be reading, oblivious to the world. I guess that sort of triggered the following short short short story.

While I was trying to convince my brain to fall asleep, I started thinking about cocoons and stories. And these lines came to me so naturally that I just knew I HAD to write them down this minute otherwise I’d lose them. So here they are,

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She drifts off, unassuming, a cocoon around her. They say she is sleeping. They say she built the cocoon from words. In the cocoon, she is safe, with the words. The words which whisper fairytales to her. I sit outside and wait for her to come out. I see her in the cocoon but she never stirs. No one knows but the words have her trapped. The whispers won’t let her go. She can’t break free. I sit and wait for her, watch over her. She seems so peaceful, almost as if she were sleeping. I wonder what she dreams of.