[Writing Contest] Finish the Tale. Story-37//The purple flower (ENG-ESP)
The storm ended, but the rainbow touched the sky right through my window.
Its seven colors were so vibrant that I felt compelled to approach and observe its majesty up close.
As I pressed my nose to the glass, I noticed something strange: the purple color detached itself from the rainbow and fell onto my bed, transformed into a beautiful flower of that same hue.
I've always heard that rainbows have magic and hold wonderful secrets, of princesses, elves, and even fairies of the night.
With my heart racing, I picked the flower and inhaled its elegant fragrance. I immediately fell into a deep sleep where I could see my deceased grandmother with her long hair flowing freely and the same flower adorning it.
We intertwined our hands, and she whispered softly, "Remember how much I loved this color?" And I quickly returned to my room.
It was true, my grandmother loved purple, but the purple that only appeared in rainbows. When it rained, she seemed like a little girl waiting for the sun to come out and reveal that seven-colored ribbon.
At that moment, the flower vanished as if it had never been there, just like the rainbow. That's when I realized that this was my grandmother's way of visiting the world of the living.
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La tormenta termin贸, pero el arco铆ris toc贸 el cielo justo a trav茅s de mi ventana.
Sus siete colores eran tan vivos que sent铆 el impulso de acercarme para observar bien de cerca su majestuosidad.
Al pegar mi nariz al cristal, not茅 algo extra帽o: el color morado se desprendi贸 de dicho arco铆ris y cay贸 en mi cama transformado en una linda flor de ese mismo tono.
Siempre he escuchado que los arco铆ris tienen magia y guardan maravillosos secretos, de princesas, duendes y hasta hadas de la noche.
Con el coraz贸n acelerado, tom茅 la flor e inhal茅 su elegante fragancia. Inmediatamente ca铆 en un profundo sue帽o donde pod铆a ver a mi abuela ya difunta con su larga cabellera suelta y la misma flor adornando la misma.
Nos entrelazamos las manos y emiti贸 un ligero susurro: te acuerdas como me gustaba este color. Y r谩pidamente volv铆 a mi habitaci贸n.
Era cierto mi abuela amaba el morado , pero el morado que se ve铆a solo en los arco铆ris, cuando llov铆a parec铆a una ni帽a esperando el sol saliera para que diera paso a ese cintillo de siete colores.
En ese instante, la flor se desvaneci贸 como si nunca hubiera estado all铆 al igual que el arco铆ris, ah铆 me di cuenta que esa era la forma de mi abuela visitar el mundo de los vivos.
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