A fresh,
cheerful breeze blew, making the stickiness subside even for a short while. A
girl sat cross-legged on the almost never ending ancient wall.
China. The
most densely-populated land in the world. Its history as old as many in the
east, where myths and legends mixed with folktales and proverbs.
The breeze
blew again, ruffling her soft shoulder-length dark hair. She inhaled, as a
smile appeared on her face. Her eyes still closed.
She could
hear people talking behind her, but could not make out a single word. Chinese.
Unlike European languages, which somehow related to English or German, Chinese
was related to neither and remained unintelligible to her ears.
A Tune, a
foreign melody, played somewhere in the distance. It reached her ears, and
images of Kung Fu-fighting men played behind her closed eyelids.
When she
opened her eyes, it was dark. The people had left and the music must have
stopped but not in her head. She got up, removed a folded paper from her pocket
and placed it between two of the stones of the Great Wall, where there was a
distinct mark.
This piece was inspired by the above image. It was originally written for a Warm Up Wednesday picture prompt but was shortened to meet the guidelines. (In case you find it elsewhere online).
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