The Question Girl

Spiralita was a happy girl, in spite of her questions. As a matter of fact, it was her questions that gave herself that happy identity. She was known throughout the land as the ‘Question Girl’. Some made fun of her because of all the questions she asked and some admired her for always being so curious about the world.

But she paid no attention to those people since she didn’t ask her questions because or for them. She asked them because she wanted to know answers. Not THE answer, just answers. Answers were the answer to everything.

The Answer is the Answer

And because she was always asking questions she was always getting answers. She didn’t always believe the answers because she knew answers could be wrong. But she believed even in getting wrong answers. Wrong answers she understood were the only thing that led to right answers because they were the reason for asking more questions and questions were essential to answers. You can’t have one without the other.

The Hill of Life

What made her happy about all this was she knew that getting answers led to progress up the Hill of Life. Getting up any hill wasn’t easy but getting up the Hill of Life was especially hard because it was very steep and very rocky. It was uneven and sometimes dangerous. It could be beautiful and wonderful but not always. Each sharp, giant boulder and each dark, swampy part was overcome by finding the answer to a question. She knew if she practiced asking questions and finding answers when the path wasn’t too hard she would be better at it when she reached these scary parts.

The Solo Climb

And it worked. She was successful in getting to the top of the Hill of Life and just as importantly, she was happy doing it. She felt bad for some of her friends who stumbled and fell back down the hill along the way, even though she tried to help them. She was happy though for her other friends who also figured out how to get to the top. But she knew, in the end, that each person had to climb the hill by themselves. 

The End


Drawing and Short Story © 2019 Marty Coleman | napkindad.com