Fall.and.Shatter
Member
- Aug 11, 2022
- 26
2. The girl with the auburn hair
Once upon a time, there was a girl with red hair.
Auburn, they told her. Bright and beautiful, like a field of hay glazed with sunset.
The color like half grown apples in an orchard next to a sunrise.
She smiled and thanked them with sunny smiles and bright eyes.
She was tiny then. Small and unknowing.
A year passed and she went to school. They told her she was sensitive and kind.
Her apple-pink cheeks dimpled whenever they talked, and her eyes were still bright.
A few more years and still they were kind. They told her she was smart and charming, witty without trying. She smiled and praised them back.
But her eyes were not so bright.
Another few years and they began to turn their backs, offering her honeyed but empty, empty words.
Like an apple with a worm crawling through. Rotten and bitter.
She still thanked them. But her eyes were dull, and her smiles were slow to come.
Then they turned back to her with vicious hunger.
They tore at her because she was queer and quiet, and she was not pretty with that auburn, sunset glazed hair but ugly and stupid for thinking otherwise.
Her hands shook, and her body became a mass of bruises and nicks, like an apple fallen hard from a high tree reaching towards the sky.
When her face became swollen and pulped from fists and feet and nails, she took it all, and never said a word.
Slowly she caved in, this girl with the auburn hair and once-bright eyes. It was slow at first, but in the end she caved in fully, her heart scarred and her smile gone.
Eyes hollow and empty.
Until at last she slashed her wrists.
The first slash hard and precise.
The second uneven because her other hand was already slick with blood.
She sat back on the cold tiles. Her dark blood like fully ripe apples they would have said.
But in the end it didn't matter.
She died alone. Cold and broken.
She had never even seen a field of hay glazed with sunset, or the color of half grown apples in an orchard next to a sunrise.
Once upon a time, there was a girl with red hair.
Auburn, they told her. Bright and beautiful, like a field of hay glazed with sunset.
The color like half grown apples in an orchard next to a sunrise.
She smiled and thanked them with sunny smiles and bright eyes.
She was tiny then. Small and unknowing.
A year passed and she went to school. They told her she was sensitive and kind.
Her apple-pink cheeks dimpled whenever they talked, and her eyes were still bright.
A few more years and still they were kind. They told her she was smart and charming, witty without trying. She smiled and praised them back.
But her eyes were not so bright.
Another few years and they began to turn their backs, offering her honeyed but empty, empty words.
Like an apple with a worm crawling through. Rotten and bitter.
She still thanked them. But her eyes were dull, and her smiles were slow to come.
Then they turned back to her with vicious hunger.
They tore at her because she was queer and quiet, and she was not pretty with that auburn, sunset glazed hair but ugly and stupid for thinking otherwise.
Her hands shook, and her body became a mass of bruises and nicks, like an apple fallen hard from a high tree reaching towards the sky.
When her face became swollen and pulped from fists and feet and nails, she took it all, and never said a word.
Slowly she caved in, this girl with the auburn hair and once-bright eyes. It was slow at first, but in the end she caved in fully, her heart scarred and her smile gone.
Eyes hollow and empty.
Until at last she slashed her wrists.
The first slash hard and precise.
The second uneven because her other hand was already slick with blood.
She sat back on the cold tiles. Her dark blood like fully ripe apples they would have said.
But in the end it didn't matter.
She died alone. Cold and broken.
She had never even seen a field of hay glazed with sunset, or the color of half grown apples in an orchard next to a sunrise.
