Writing by Cheyenne
Writing is like another language: Its ingenious essence is filled inside every child’s head from the moment they are born until the time they die. Writing follows a specific vocabulary one must learn whilst jotting down ideas for an alternate universe full of perpetual curiosity at its finest.
As curious beasts of the earth, our minds collect and store every memory inside neurons that fire at a million miles per second. It took thousands of neurons just to type this sentence. Pretend for a moment that you are somewhere you enjoy.
You see a little boy with windblown, coppery hair and rich, russet skin, the sun’s ray kissing his bare, tiny stomach and exposed extremities. You wonder for a brief moment where his parents are as he studies a butterfly sucking out a purple flower’s nectar. The butterfly, undisturbed, continues to drink from the flower, unaware of the young child hovering over it.
There’s something so serene about the scene in front of you, so genuine and perfect. Your neurons fire off like nuclear explosions, ideas and thoughts pounding like an alternate pulse inside your veins. You realize that you don’t have a camera as you frantically pat around your pockets.
Something brushes your fingertips as you pull it out and see that it is a broken pencil and a single slip of paper the size of your palm. Quickly, you jot down every word that flies through your mind, the thoughts entering and exiting through your ear canals like the euphonious notes of a piano electrifying the air.
This is what I call the Writer’s Toolkit. I know this event so well because it is true. During the early times of my writing, I never thought twice about carrying a pencil and paper with me once I stepped out over the threshold of my house.
That event changed everything. Now, I at least remember to carry a pen with me or a camera to take still-motion pictures of the inspiring event. Take a notepad and put it in your purse or stick a pen in your back pocket; you’re going to wish that you had.