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A Hundred (and three) Word Story By ‘Peace’

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I cradle the single gold curl within my hand, the only trace of my once envied hair. Closing my eyes, I see my mum, brushing it, whispering how beautiful I looked – like a princess. Then she was gone. A year later I lost my hair and I turned into a bald-looking frog; I never heard those words “You are beautiful” anymore. Until one day, I met a boy like me – his head shiny and glinting. Once again he made me feel beautiful. Tilting my hand, I let the blonde ribbon fall softly to the water…drifting away…The cancer won’t beat me.


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