Silence.

Pure, unadulterated, beautiful silence filled Bea’s bedroom, and she loved it. She had begun to wake up earlier and earlier just to feel the beautiful nothingness upon her ears before the hustle and bustle of her busy day. Every bit of her life was given to another: her job and her academics working as just a mere example, but this time, the time when all was quiet, this time was hers. Bea rose from her bed, her blankets draped over her as she began to trod over to her desk. She adored the feeling of coziness she could only get from her bed, but it was time to begin what made her wake up so early in the morning, the one thing she wouldn’t stop doing for the world; it was time to make.

Bea grabbed her notebook, a faded, old, plain thing that no one cared about, that is, no one else cared. Bea took her pen, and began to write. ‘Tis a painful process, beginning to write. Bea wrote down but a single word. It seemed like nothing came out… right. Then she wrote another word, and another. From those painful first steps came a fountain of words. Sentences constructed in such a beautiful way came to being. Their glamour didn’t come from her brilliantly constructed prose; they were far from perfect. Their beauty shone through simply because they were hers. The whole room seemed more vivid, more alive. A symphony of prose filled Bea’s head; she hurriedly scribbled upon her page, trying in vain to capture all her imagination. Bea’s spark of inspiration grew and grew, filling the room with the fire of her will. She could hear it, that creative concerto, that masterful melody. It took her mind captive, but she didn’t mind. She only had one purpose now, she had to—

BBRRRRING! The alarm shook Bea’s mind. She had almost forgotten she had somewhere to be! Bea closed her notebook, and, rising from her chair, she left to go prepare for the day ahead. As she left to conquer the day, the room once again fell quiet. The quiet air filled the room once again, but Bea didn’t mind: she was simply glad she had the opportunity to make, to create something that had never existed before, something that was… hers. And as she left, the room fell into black. All had given its way to the pure, unadulterated, beautiful…

Silence.