Post by Professor Carina Erikson on Sept 5, 2015 2:09:14 GMT -5
Kenmore. Once upon a time a little girl with pale skin peppered with freckles and black hair lived here. Her face was the same as her mother's, her hair of her father. She was born here, was loved here, made two friends here, had her first kiss here. Life and people can change so quickly, in the blink of an eye. Her mother had died here. Her father changed here. Life at home and love at home was a thing of the past. She had felt loss here, lost her mother, lost her friends. She had felt pain here. The house was not at fault for any of this. It was nothing more than wood and glass. Just rooms, empty save for a few random broken chairs and an old worn out couch. She hadn't been here in years. The bad memories far more clear than the good. But she was here now, standing on the green grass of the front yard, staring at the house that started it all.
A friend once told her she was like the queen of the chessboard. Life was nothing but one vast chessboard. Move, counter move, while trying to stay alive. If she was queen then the world was in bad shape, for she had long ago given up her throne. Her crown, tarnished and broken, tossed away with the trash. She's never been a princess and this ain't a fairy tale. That's okay, though, she never wanted that. All she ever wanted was to live long enough to grow up. Her happily ever after was just around the corner, if she would just take it. Her castle and her prince, waiting for her when she was ready. Maybe soon.
With a sigh, she slowly made her way across the yard and up the steps to the porch. In her shaking hand, the key to the pale yellow door was held, but she couldn't open it yet. Memories warred with each other. Her mother making daisy chains. Her father pinching and hitting. He wasn't her real father and she often wondered if that was the reason he hated her so. She couldn't ask as he was long since gone from this world. But she always wondered. There was a spell she knew, but it was questionable, as close to dark magic as possible while still being light. She used to play with things like that, but she was scared now.
The last few weeks had been rough for her. When she slept, there were nightmares. When awake, she couldn't stop going. A never ending headache. The feeling of restlessness. She couldn't stop moving and going and had to be doing something all the time. Drawn here, had to come, no choice. She couldn't stop herself. It was right to come here. No matter how little she wanted to. She needed to be here, didn't know why, but she had to stay. Here she was calm. She was beginning to think she was going crazy.
She stuck the key in the lock, but let it hang there rather than opening the door. Instead, the now grown up little girl with black hair sat, swinging on the porch swing, tying daisies together.
A friend once told her she was like the queen of the chessboard. Life was nothing but one vast chessboard. Move, counter move, while trying to stay alive. If she was queen then the world was in bad shape, for she had long ago given up her throne. Her crown, tarnished and broken, tossed away with the trash. She's never been a princess and this ain't a fairy tale. That's okay, though, she never wanted that. All she ever wanted was to live long enough to grow up. Her happily ever after was just around the corner, if she would just take it. Her castle and her prince, waiting for her when she was ready. Maybe soon.
With a sigh, she slowly made her way across the yard and up the steps to the porch. In her shaking hand, the key to the pale yellow door was held, but she couldn't open it yet. Memories warred with each other. Her mother making daisy chains. Her father pinching and hitting. He wasn't her real father and she often wondered if that was the reason he hated her so. She couldn't ask as he was long since gone from this world. But she always wondered. There was a spell she knew, but it was questionable, as close to dark magic as possible while still being light. She used to play with things like that, but she was scared now.
The last few weeks had been rough for her. When she slept, there were nightmares. When awake, she couldn't stop going. A never ending headache. The feeling of restlessness. She couldn't stop moving and going and had to be doing something all the time. Drawn here, had to come, no choice. She couldn't stop herself. It was right to come here. No matter how little she wanted to. She needed to be here, didn't know why, but she had to stay. Here she was calm. She was beginning to think she was going crazy.
She stuck the key in the lock, but let it hang there rather than opening the door. Instead, the now grown up little girl with black hair sat, swinging on the porch swing, tying daisies together.
