Dare to dream

The sun was setting behind the hill, and it's orange-red glow was seeping through the windows, the maple wood floor glowing. A beautiful cottage stood next to a river, now frozen cold due to the weather. The house belonged to a writer, quite moody at that time. Clara was sitting at her desk, typing away on her laptop as if time was eternal. But it wasn't, she knew that she had to submit her story to her publisher before the year ends. Her publisher loved her works, but fussed a lot due to her speed, and had threatened to leave her if she didn't show good results. She had given time to her until the end of that year. It was 31st December, but she had gotten stuck on the way. Her story was good enough, she knew it, but she didn't want a 'good enough' story; it had to be excellent, exceptional. She raked a hand through her hair in frustration. There was something missing, she didn't seem like her usual self. She felt empty inside, and for a split second, she just thought about quitting once and for all. No. You can't do it. Write. Think. Don't give up. After what seemed like forever, she decided to curl up in her blanket, and dream. It was her favorite past time; to just close her eyes and let her mind drift to whatever story it could, and this would normally help. But now, even her mind felt blank, and she felt as if a tight band had been tied around her head. She eventually decided to go and take a walk outside, and freshen up her mind. The whole countryside looked like a winter Wonderland, with snow as far as the eye could see. It was breathtaking. But the wonderful view could not help her find what was missing, what she forgot. Snow crunched under her feet, and a cold breeze blew over, ruffling her hair. She huddled inside her coat. She felt strange, because she kept hearing another pair of feet beside her, crunching along. She turned sideways, and said, 'I didn't expect to see you here'.

'nor did I, for that matter. How's your story going?' asked a fair faced girl, known as summer. 'absolutely rubbish. I've finished it, but there' s something missing. I can't figure it out'. Clara sighed. 'You can, I Know you can. Fought with the world to be here right? Just to do this. Don't let that go to waste'. Summer said. Of course Clara knew with whom she had fought with to be there. 4 years ago, when Clara had announced to her parents about being a writer, they were unconvinced for the fact that she could make a living out of it. She had raged and stormed; writing was one thing in the whole world that was real to her, something she loved and had passion for. She decided to run way; but she told her sister, summer. She was troubled; she was behind her sister the whole way, but felt hurt that she would leave her eventually. 'I promise I'll come back one day, I'll keep in touch. Just don't tell mum and dad my address. I want to prove it to them that I am capable of doing anything I want to. I love you, summer; that's the only thing you need to know'. And with a heavy heart, her sister's eyes spilling tears, she left. Summer had refused to talk anything at all to Clara after that, and it hurt. 'thanks, little sister. I miss you'. Clara said. 'I miss you too.' summer whispered, and came to an abrupt halt. 'why do you write?' summer asked suddenly. Clara blinked. 'I-I love writing'. She stuttered. She felt strange saying this, since for the past few days writing seemed more like something she had to finish, rather than something she loved and enjoyed.

'you've been writing as if it was a nine to five job, not your passion'. She shrugged. 'put your heart and soul into it, Clara. Just the way you used to. Don't obsess with it, give it some life. You'll be fine then'. With that, summer left, her bag swinging behind her. Clara had a feeling that her sister's eyes were hiding a sadness behind them, by encouraging Clara to do her best. She still had her regrets of course, leaving her sister and family behind had not been easy. Summer was like her best friend, and perhaps she, Clara had been over obsessed with writing, lately. But Clara felt like she had just gained something; just realized what she had to do; she had to bring her words to life. Her writing had to create a picture in the reader's mind, and they should be able to play it like a movie. She ran back to her house, barged into her office, and started typing. This time she felt whole again. She put her everything into it, because she loved to write, and even if it wasn't exceptional, it represented her, how much she loved what she did. By 12:45 am, she finished her story, and sighed in satisfaction. She quickly copied it and emailed it to her publisher, and sat back on her chair, with a smile on her face. Her head felt light, clean, and free. For a moment she felt as if she had neglected her sister, because she must have felt lonely, all those years on her own. How could she have been so selfish? She just kept thinking about herself, and in the process she hurt her sister. Even then, her sister was there to guide her towards the light in the darkness. She needed to speak to her. She needed to thank her. She picked up her phone, and dialed summer's number. 'hello? Summer, it's me. Wan't to come over for a movie? I know you're staying near by. Yeah. Thanks. bye!' she could literally imagine a smile coming over her sister's face, as she closed her laptop and went out the door, into the new year's night.