Persian Westender

Once upon a time, there was a little story that had been abandoned by its writer a long time ago….

She had her climax on her shoulders; was wandering in the alleys of fantasy.

Although she seemed to be pointless at times, the little story in fact was looking for her genuine ending: “An ending of her own type…”

The little story with the burning climax on her shoulders was in search of any clue which could relate her to her own ending. Like a piece of puzzle which could be matched with only one other piece, she restlessly tried to be connected with many plausible events in the endless territory of fantasy. But nothing could fall in the right place to convince her. One day, in a bright corner of town she found a joyful and happy ending….One of those kinds who shows off their shining and golden hair as a symbol of the glorious closure. Charmed by magnificence of the happy ending, the little story ran to her, but suddenly stopped and stepped back.

“I like you…but I do not belong to you,” she replied to the bewildering look of the happy ending that didn’t expect the rejection.

“I - the little story- am not supposed to be ended up happily. I have a doomed ending and it can’t be else”

The little story turned back as she was hiding her determined face.

Then she gently walked away toward the dark side of the fantasy town.

Later on, her flaring climax could be seen from far away, where no one’s imagination could endure the wildness of the event…