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This goes along with my photography entry titled 'Beauty'.
Long ago, in a large house with just her father and her lived a beautiful woman. She was brought up to be perfect, feminine, and a painter. Her father told her it was in her blood, and she took lessons like a good girl should. She was very skilled, but it wasn’t her passion. While walking to a shop for more supplies, she passed a man brushing a stick along the strings of a strange wooden box with a long neck. Coming from the strange thing was a noise so beautiful it made her stop in her tracks. She asked the man what it was, and he spoke to her in a language different than her own. He saw the confusion in her eyes, and so, in a beautiful gesture that would ultimately doom her, he handed her the instrument carefully, holding it as if it were a child. She took the gift, and pressed her supplies money into his hands before heading home. She held it close and soon developed a passion for music, practicing in secret. A few months later, her father followed the sweet sound of the violin to her room, and was furious. He took it away. throwing it harshly from the window where it snapped with a broken sound on the street below. He screamed at her as tears rolled slowly down her pale cheeks. Afterwards, he always kept her in the house except for her studies. One day, after she had lost all hope of ever hearing the sweet sound of music again, her tutor told her he knew of a way for her to display not only her love of music to everyone, but her great beauty and skill with a brush. Naturally, she was excited, and asked him to tell her how. He told her to close her eyes, and she soon felt herself changing. Her skin became stiff until she could no longer move her arms and legs. Scared, she tried to open her eyes, but could not. She tried to call for help, but her lips would not move. She could just wait sadly for release from her prison.
Many years later, at a flea market, a girl shifted through the pile of forgotten toys, clothes, and trinkets, gripping the one dollar bill in her small hand. There were some pretty things. Wind-up toys and smiling dolls. They were all nice, but her mom gave her one dollar. Just one. So she passed by the walking, dancing toys, and the dolls with their close-lipped smiles. Finally, when the stack was getting shorter and she was considering a curly-haired doll, she saw a dash of pink. Some blue. A music note. Her curious hands grasped the colorful thing and she pulled it out of the stack. It had a few scratches, some paint was chipped from being passed around, but the colors. The colors caught her eye like nothing else. Dazzling in the bright sunlight, they astounded her, and she smiled with pure joy. She ran to her mom, the mask still in her hand, its ribbons flying back in the slight breeze. Her mom shrugged at the strange choice, but the girl knew it was perfect. So she smiled a secret smile and gazed at the mask.
 Roxy-La · Tue Jul 15, 2008 @ 10:52pm · 0 Comments |
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