by Keertana Srinivasan, Age 16, USA
One gloomy morning, I woke up with an urge to dissolve myself in something. I went on a walk, but couldn’t find tranquility in the clamour. I played the piano, but heard only discordance. I drenched myself in a hot bath, but couldn’t soothe myself. Then, I went to a nearby creek, sat on a creaky log with my tattered journal and began to write.
I wrote about the birds that hummed a melodious tune, the tree branches that swayed gently, and the orange fishes that splashed in the water. Words drifted through my fingers, scrawling themselves onto the paper effortlessly. I became mesmerized with every sight. I saw a mound of sand with a hole at the top. A line of ants climbed it, each carrying soil in their pincers which they deposited at the top. It was such a beautiful sight to see thousands of tiny creatures work in such synchronization to build a home. It brought about a feeling of unity and harmony.
My hand kept moving.
The sun began to hide behind the glimmering shadow of the moon and the evening grew dim and quiet. As crystal droplets poured from the sky, my clothes became soaked and my hair turned stringy. But I continued to write pages upon pages, feeling the song of words beat to the rhythm of my heart. My pen was my paintbrush, my paper was the canvas. I was free.
Keertana Srinivasan is a 16 year old writer from Virginia. She says, “I am an avid reader and especially enjoy fantasy novels. I also have a passion for writing. My short stories and poems have been published in anthologies, and I enjoy writing in my spare time.”