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[Story] Seeing Beauty in the Pain (Part 1)

March 26, 2018


This week kicks off the start of the short stories written from real life pivotal moments. In the last blog post, I talked about this new format and how I hoped it would better show you how you can heal and grow through rewriting difficult moments in your own life into a fictional story. So, let's get to part 1 of the first story!


P.S. If you'd like to read about the pivotal moment that inspired this story, be sure to subscribe to my email list where I share more about my own real life stories!

. . .


Seeing Beauty in the Pain (Part 1)


The castle walls were far more looming and dark than Minerva expected. It was a cloudy day, as if the rain could break through the black softness at any moment. Other kids passed by, chatting animatedly with each other as they brushed against Minerva’s shoulder, casting her suspicious looks as the went.


Minerva wished she didn’t have to start over, especially so close to the end of the year.


“Are you ready?” Her mother’s kind eyes smiled down at her. Minerva wanted to smile back, to be the confident kid who could just walk into a new school, but she couldn’t do it. And she wasn’t confident.


“I know this is hard for you, Min. But you’re a brilliant student and you’re so close to becoming a strong Seer too.” Her mother bent down to Minerva’s level, so she could look her in the eye. “Look, being different is good. Don’t forget that.”


Minerva nodded, unable to look back at her mother for fear the tears she was working so hard to keep back would break free. Being different wasn’t good when it made you the target of cruel and impossible jokes. But there was no point arguing. She was going into the school, whether she liked it or not.


Again, her eyes trailed up the towering castle walls. There were at least a dozen windows— and that was just on the front of the school—white curtains draped inside, contrasting the dark gray stone outside.


“Bye mom.” She forced a hug and walked away before her mother could stop her. If she didn’t go now, she never would, and she didn’t want to disappoint her mom.


“Have a great day, honey.”


Minerva didn’t look back. If she saw her mom standing there, she would want to run back into her arms, just like she did when she was a little girl. But she was 8 years old now, and she had to be strong. With all the courage she could summon, Minerva crossed the threshold of Seer Prep—the school she would attend until she completed her training to be a full-grown Seer.


It wasn’t at all what she expected. From the outside it had looked so ominous, but from in here, it felt much more welcoming. White marble staircases led up to the higher floors, wrapping around each other like vines. Pictures framed in sliver of girls practicing their Seer abilities covered the wall to the left. The ceiling was draped in diamonds that reflected the daylight from outside down into the entry way, creating a magical twinkle of light around Minerva.


It was truly magnificent.


She took a few steps toward the center of the room, her books clutched to her chest like a protective shield.


“You must be the new girl.” A voice, whiny and high-pitched, caught Minerva’s attention. She looked away from the diamond-covered ceiling to find a yellow-haired girl, petite with a small nose that arched upward—or maybe she just held it that way—staring at her. “Minerva, right?”


Minerva only nodded. Meeting new people wasn’t in her strengths. She always clamed up and turned to a self-conscious younger version of herself. It was as if being in the spotlight reversed time in her mind as a coping mechanism, so she didn’t have to deal with the discomfort that was happening in the present moment.


“I’m Megan.” The small yellow-hard girl approached until she was right in Minerva’s face. “Well . . . don’t you speak?”


Megan’s voice screeched through open entryway, reaching Minerva’s ears with unwanted welcome.


Her words came out forced. “Yes, I’m Minerva.”


She felt nervous under the scrutiny of another student. She didn’t like Megan’s demeanor. It spelled trouble.


. . .

To be continued




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