Door Number 42


Hi There!

Sometimes on the other side of certain doors there are treasures to find and to wear.


My new old thing is my Grandma’s old brazelet. I thought I lost it and yesterday I found it. 
My Grandma used to say that the brazelet brought her luck. 
She wore it once and she met my Grandpha. 
She wore it twice and he proposed. 
She wore it once again and the miracle of life arrived into her heart; she was pregnant. 
That was good luck because the Doctor had told her she couldn’t. 
So maybe it would bring me good luck too. 
No such luck. 
The first time I wore it, it started to rain and I didn’t have an umbrella. 
The second time I wore it, I broke up with my boyfriend. 
You may think the third time is the charm but, think again. 
The third time I wore it, I got fired from my work. 
So I was sad, mad and upset and then I remember one thing my Grandpha used to say: 
“Everything happens for a reason.” So I thought about what happened after it rained. I enter into a cafe to wait for the rain to stop. There I met an incredible guy who inspired me to be a poet. I forgot all about him until now. 
Then I realized that after breaking up with my boyfriend; I found out that he was cheating. 
I realize also that I didn’t love that job but I didn’t want to accept it; only because it meant good money. 
After realizing all of this I wear the brazelet everyday. 
Now I have an umbrella when I need it. 
I have a boyfriend that I adore. 
And best of all; I have the perfect job, working as a poet for a magazine. 
So I guess after all the brazelet brought me luck. 

Published by: sserrat

I'm the new black, but in color and that color is all the words that come up from inside my head. Fact: This Blog is for me to feel like a real writer. It's just like the feeling that the characters from the movie "you got mail" felt when those words appeared on the screen, that's how I feel when I clicked on P.U.B.L.I.S.H.E.D. That's just a great feeling. I can't see myself no writing in the sense of forever. Writing is magic and when you read me becomes true and when you comment starts to scream. I just love it. A place to be, to let myself go.

Categories English, post, Short StoryLeave a comment

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