Bod quite liked crows. He thought they were funny and he liked the way they helped to keep the graveyard tidy.
Bod quite liked crows. He thought they were funny and he liked the way they helped to keep the graveyard tidy.
Bod was thrilled. He imagined a future in which he could read everything, in which all stories could be opened and discovered.
The fallen autumn leaves were slick beneath Bod's feet, and the mists blurred the edges of the world. Nothing was as clean-cut as he had thought it, a few minutes before.
You're alive, Bod. That means you have infinite potential. You can do anything, make anything, dream anything. If you can change the world, the world will change. Potential. Once you're dead, it's gone. Over. You've made what you've made, dreamed your dream, written your name. You may be buried here, you may even walk. But that potential is finished.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories