What A Day

What A Day

It was a beautiful day on the open fields of Ireland. A comfortable cottage was the only item dotting the landscape for at least five miles. The door opened, and out stepped a young man. He was not too tall, his blonde hair gathered behind him in a ponytail. His eyes sparkled ever-so-slightly in the morning sun as he stretched with a loud groan. He strode a few steps from the cottage and looked around. It was a great day out. He was dressed comfortably in slightly baggy blue jeans and a black t-shirt, and since no one else was awake, he decided to go for a short walk. The flat fields seemed to go on forever in all directions, but after a few short minutes of walking, he arrived at a hill. It was then that he first heard it: A beautiful voice, which broke the silence. He had never heard anything like it. It sang no words, just sounds. He had to know where the sound came from. He quickly crested the hill and spotted the source. It was a girl of about sixteen years of age. She had lush, auburn tinted hair, wore a plain white dress

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