The Winter is Coming That is it! My life is gone! Well, let me first introduce myself before I explain better my inevitable death. My name is Stack of Paper and I was born in Brazil (at least that is what was printed on my box: “made in Brazil”). I think I am 2 years old, is quite difficult measure the lifetime of anyone when half that had been passed inside a dark box. Despite that, I am pretty sure that this is my age. Last summer I was sleeping and suddenly I woke up with a strong light in my eyes. In this moment I knew that my real life was starting. After all, the purpose of life to any paper is to be used! I remember that I was so happy in that moment that I didn’t said good bye to my relatives. Even so, this didn’t ruined my happiness. So, after that I was put inside of a printer with many others paper sheets. Two weeks later my turn to be used came and something was printed on me. ON ME!! I was read and left on a big table with other lucky ones. Two months later, someone picked me and used some highlight text pen on me (that tickled) and once again I was so happy! In spring, I could see other slack of paper crying miserably and I asked it what happened. It told me that there was an awful rule on the place that said: “if any slack of paper haven’t been used for 6 months, it should be triturate” and it was running out of time. I made my count and I discovered that my time would be out at the winter beginning. Since that day I’ve been praying for someone use me. yesterday someone picked me and put me near to the shredder. Yesterday someone picked me and put me near to the shredder. That is it! My life is gone! The winter came! Writing Prompt: Write from the point of view of a stack of paper a few inches from the shredder.