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It was a pleasure to burn

Yesterday I decided to do something about my craving to write. I went a Write Club Bangalore meetup (More info) I had an awesome time meeting other writers and learning something from them. One of the exercises was to write about 200 words starting with "It was a pleasure to burn". So here goes my attempt.

It was a pleasure to burn. For too long I was locked up in the dark and dingy cell. I had lost all my shine and purity because of the fine brown dust that settled on my body. I had to endure the sharp edges of sheets of paper thrown around me which cut deep into my body. My head hurt of being useless. The constant counting of the days to the end made me miserable. I always dreamed of the nights I would shine brightly, radiating light outward in full glory. And then, out of the blue, I was standing again. I could feel the hard wood of the cell in which I was shut all along. I heard my friend, giver of light, scream in joy and touch me.

The dullness in my head cleared as it slowly dawned on me that I was alive. I space around me lit up with golden light filling me with joy as I served the purpose of my life. I was a pleasure to burn.

I hope from the above write up, you guys can guess the thing personified here.

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