Seven

She twirls and dances in the middle of us, her hair flying and her arms slightly bent over her head. We only see her face for a moment, before it spins out of sight, only to appear once again. She’s laughing, and light from the fire seems to cascade down her body, creating an illusion of shape.

We clap, as she spins, and the fireflies dance around her, too. We can’t help but smile when we hear her tinkly little laugh, as she pulls one of us into the middle to dance with her.

We’ve never seen her so happy, than when she is dancing, the centre of attention. We’ve never seen her eyes so bright and her face so animated.

He lurks in the background, and sparks seem to shoot from his eyes when he sees her. He knows that we’re oblivious. He knows that she is a liar, with her long, flowing skirts, and her graceful arms.

She closes her eyes, as she dances with each of us in turn, fast moving, laughing and beautiful.

He storms up to the circle, only seeking out one person. He is angry, now, smoke seems to be pouring out of his ears in anger. He reaches out, and with one forceful movement, tears the wig from her head.

She cowers, as he shakes it in her face, screaming and pointing.

The shadows under her eyes seem much, much darker now, and we only realise just how thin she really is.

He hits her across the face with the back of his hand, and she collapses in a shivering heap.

“YOU STUPID, STUPID GIRL”

He told her not to make friends, not to become attatched to anybody.

He told her not to pretend that she’s something she’s not, and never will be again.

She is a liar, she is a fraud, she’s dying. And it’s all her fault.

She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes are wide and her cheeks are hollow.

Her bald head shines in the moonlight, and even what seems like an eternity later, when the fire has long since faded away, his voice still echoes off the trees.

This entry was written on June 21, 2007 by Mandy. It is about/includes mentions of future. You can leave a comment, or trackback from your own site.