a left-eyed girl

living in a 2 dimensional world

a couple daily writes.

with 2 comments

I haven’t posted them in a little while, so here are two of the latest ones.

Historical fiction.
She lay under the covers, petrified of the dark. There was nothing out there, but it always made her think of all the bad things that could be hiding there. She couldn’t help but feel angry about the way things had turned out. If only it could be the way she wanted it to be in her mind, but none of that was true. It was all an incredible lie to help her cope with her life, to figure out how to go forward from here.

Pulling the covers up around her chin, she thought about the life she’d cultivated for herself in her head and the different people she could pretend to be on a moment’s notice. To the rest of the world, she was smart and successful, not afraid of anything. Nothing bad had ever happened to her, and her childhood had been a dreamy fairytale of doting parents, happy friends, and wonderful experiences.

If only they knew the truth, the real facts of her life and childhood. Would anyone still like her as a person? Would anyone still care to know who she was under all the superficial layers of lies? Did she even know who she still was?

Sighing, she looking at the clock on her bedside table and decided that she didn’t know the answers to any of these questions, and somehow, they just didn’t matter. She could settle back into the fiction of her made-up life and be comfortable and rested when the sun rose the next morning

Ruby slippers.
The party was immensely boring. Immensely. She liked saying that over and over in her head, with a slight British accent, imagining herself walking down a cobblestone-lined street in the rain, her bright red umbrella bobbing above her. At the end of her imaginary walk, she met with a darkly handsome man with a mysterious accent. He led her down a dingy alley and through a doorway that opened up into a magnificent hall. She threw off her raincoat and revealed a glittering evening dress, intricately beaded with expensive crystals. She was the belle of the ball and people’s heads turned to notice her, their faces breaking into bright smiles of recognition. They rushed to her, and she could feel the adoration pulsating through the crowd

Ah, that would be the life, instead of standing up against the wall like this, parked near the refreshments table. Making yet another pass, perhaps the fourth or even fifth of the last two hours, she filled her small napkin with hors d’oeuvres: pigs in blankets, cheese wedges, mini-spanikopita bites. She returned to her post, standing between the light switch and a garish modern painting of bright slashes of thick paint.
Catching herself in the mirror, she rolled her eyes at her own appearance, chiding herself for thinking she could ever be stylish. The dress didn’t quite fit her and looked out of date, even frumpy on her rounded frame. It had looked so good on the model, and somehow even looked good in the dressing room, but now she cursed herself for spending too much money on it. The only thing that she felt proud about were the shiny red shoes she had slipped on right before leaving the house. They glittered on her feet, and she tapped her heels together childishly, wishing she could be magically transported anywhere else but here.
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Written by Reese

June 12, 2008 at 3:32 pm

Posted in writing

Tagged with ,

2 Responses

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  1. I’m fascinated by how certain themes emerge and interweave throughout many of your entries.

    And, hanging over many of them, an air of loss and sadness….

    NYCinephile

    June 12, 2008 at 3:37 pm

  2. @D: I’m glad that you always read and provide feedback on my writes. I am always glad to know there’s an audience out there for them. It’s really encouraging!

    Reese

    June 12, 2008 at 3:40 pm


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