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Dandelion, tell me text: Lucie havlová 6.0 ZADÁNÍ: A story based on a picture:
It hurt more than it should.
• a free setting, no worry what it will be, still make it a story
She wasn’ t blind to the anger flowing around the house, slowly consuming her parents.
14
Their hateful stares, their painful words. None of that was directed at Emily, yet they hurt her in every way possible. She was growing tired. Emily was lonely in her house. No amount of toys could replace her parents’ love she desired so much. She was lonely, yet the house was full. She was growing tired. She was sitting by the stairs, listening in on the heated argument. Her parents were standing five feet away from each other as if they were also afraid that they would hurt the other. Their brows were furrowed; there was thunder behind their eyes; their mouth produced fuel, adding to the fire already burning. Emily could feel the heat; it was slowly suffocating her. The little girl grew tired of the screaming. She couldn’ t understand why they were constantly shouting, but she knew that she was beyond exhausted. She felt hurt and lonely in the burning house. And so, Emily ran. She let her little feet take her away. She let herself be carried by the wind and the feeling of wanted freedom. Her house burned behind her and she didn’ t bother to look back. As she was running,
Emily wondered if her parents noticed her despite them arguing. She wondered if they were chasing after her. She wondered what they would tell her. Would they also shout at her for running away? Would they worry about her? Would they even know? Do they even know how is Emily feeling or was she no longer their number one? Finding herself in the middle of a dandelion field, Emily collapsed on the ground. Her legs were hurting; ringing echoed through her head; her heart was broken. Her body was fragile- and so was the love between two people. A cry escaped her lips. Emily picked up a white dandelion, a lonely one in hundreds of yellows. She observed it as she let the tears flow. The dandelion was also fragile.“ Dandelion, tell me … why are they like this?” The dandelion didn’ t answer.“ Dandelion, tell me … do they love me?” The dandelion didn’ t answer.“ Dandelion, tell me … will it ever stop?” The dandelion didn’ t answer.“ Dandelion … I want them to love me again. Dandelion, tell me that they will love me again.” A light, warm breeze touched Emily’ s wet cheeks.“ I wish for this to stop. Please, dandelion. I wish for them to love me!” Emily’ s hot breath blew off the dandelion’ s seeds and she watched as they withered around her, swaying in the gentle wind. They were free. Is Emily’ s wish going to come true now? She hoped it would. Yet, it still hurt more than it should. •