It was a gloomy day.
It looked like twilight in the morn, hinting at a slow drizzle, as several lazy clouds drifted together in a congregation.
The ocean was gray, reflecting the skies above, and the waters were clam as night.
The smell of rain was in the air, that of cold damp earth lingering with the scent of morning dew on grass.
The beach was almost completely deserted, with a few seagulls revolving around a moldy, rotten boot that found its way to shore.
There was a child, alone, sitting on a rock by the water, beside a sculpture that looked like a sandcastle from days past, deformed by the tide and wind. A deflated balloon lay on the ground beside her, its string still attached to her thin, scraggly wrist.
She was in a dress, the kind that parents make their children wear on special occasions, with puffy short sleeves, a pink sash for a belt and layers of lavender silk and satin skirts. It must have been a pretty dress, except now it was smeared with dirt and peppered with sand, and skirts all tattered and torn, just like the rest of her seemed to be. Her long hair was in tangles, and she held in one hand a tiara, still shiny as if it had just been bought today. Her shoulders were slumped forward and her back was turned to the sea.
She was crying in silence.
She wiped her tears with her her hand, smearing more grime onto her face.
She stared hard at the tiara she held, tenderly rubbing the fake rhinestones on it with a handful of skirts until they gleamed liked stars.
She lifted the tiara, very carefully, onto the oily, filthy tendrils on her head.
She put her chin up, like a real princess, just like her mother used to tell her.
Slowly, she stood up and walked barefoot towards the water, leaving footprints that will be forgotten, because of the ebb and flow of the tides at sea
(c) natalisms 05032009
No comments:
Post a Comment