Ef ( a tale of memories) an alternative version.

My version :) read slowly (or out loud) and you will probably enjoy it more.

Part One.

Once upon a time, there was a girl.
This girl was all alone. She did not know where she came from, nor what her role in life was.
She lived alone, on a deserted island, in an empty world.

There was a castle on the island, worn by time, but still in quite good condition.
In the castle, there was food enough to last centuries, so the girl didn't suffer from hunger.

The island itself was a small paradise, and offered spectacular views to those who knew where to find them.
It had the greenest of forests, full of animal and plant life. In one of the forests there was a small lake where the girl would go for a swim from time to time. A waterfall poured down directly into it from the small river that ran down directly form the mountains, this meant the water was ice cold, but very refreshing.

A bit further away form the mountains the river came from, there was a small desert, complete with a small oasis in the middle.

The beaches that were the border of the small piece of land had the whitest sand imaginable, and the water that came in from the ocean was totally transparent.

The castle itself was not too big, and it stood on the edge of a cliff, giving a breathtaking view of the land below. The gray stone was naturally decorated by some dark green ivy that wound up to the only tower the castle had. The tower's last room was where the girl spent most of her time. She played instruments that she had found lying around in empty rooms full of cobwebs,read, and painted.

She painted a lot. So much that she had often stayed up all night to finish her pictures.
However, she never felt happy with the result of her art. There was always something missing.

In her books, she had read about people. People were described as beings of the same nature as hers. But it couldn't be, she thought, because they lived together, and she was all alone.
This normally didn't bother her much, since she had always been alone, and thought she would always be. But sometimes, in the middle of the night, she woke up crying, clutching at her chest, as if trying to grab something that was hurting her to get rid of it. But she could not, the nature of her pain was lonelyness itself, and she could do nothing about it. These nights she would stay up, looking out the window at the vast expansion of the ocean, untill the sun came up again.

After a few of these fits, the began to paint people.

To be exact, she painted a person.