The brightness stings my eyes, and the tears make the world outside blur into meaningless smears of colour.  It's so different, beyond the book.  I've been trapped within these pages for as long as I can remember... when did I last see something because it was there, not because the words told me to imagine it? I wipe my eyes, and see.  The sun, a blazing gold ball at the horizon, stains the clouds with vivid colours, and a cool wind prickles my skin.  It is real.  I step forward into the newborn night, leaving the world of words behind.

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Drabble, entry for a flash fiction contest