This is my first attempt to write a short story:
Few months back I was searching for something in the storeroom. While in my expedition in that dark, fetid, dusty room I found my broken dream; my old unstrung guitar. It was a present from my parents on my eighteenth birthday. It was simple a hollow body acoustic guitar, wooden frame, reddish in colour, black neck along. When I first saw it I was on cloud nine. I felt one step close to accomplish my dream.
I also joined a coaching to expertise in my apprentice. Whenever I went wandering outdoors I had my guitar strapped around my back. However I was unable to continue as I was compelled to focus on my career rather than unavailing dream.
“You should study now, it is paramount. After you get admission in a reputed college you can pursue your dream”.
For entire night while lying on my bed I felt the pain of losing something precious which was partially the reflection on my personality and I was handcuffed.
“It is tough to follow your dream but it is tougher to let it go”.
In morning when I came home from school my guitar was gone. My dream to be musician, to be someone I want to be was gone.
After so many years when I looked at my guitar, I thought for an instance to play it but I can’t. I can’t go back to those memories, those are pasts and full and melody. I am successful in my career but I am not what I dreamed of.
Life is all about dreams, and letting go of them, little one. The beauty of life comes with each new dream that happens along your path. Keep dreaming. Keep writing.
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Thank you Sir.
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