The Taffeta Girl

Discussion in 'Writing' started by Kagom, Oct 18, 2007.

  1. Kagom

    Kagom Senior Member

    Jan 16, 2006
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    Vicksburg, MS
    ‘Twas a sight unlike any sight I had ever beheld. There was a beautiful young lady in a bright blue taffeta, blonde haired, beautiful baby blue eyes, lips as red as the crimson rose, face as colorful as a sunrise. Her hair was adorned with many different jewels and trinkets, some were emeralds, some were rubies, some were gold, some were silver. Her hands were covered with pearly satin gloves, soft as could be. Around her neck was a simple locket attached to a brass necklace, the letters “TH” engraved on the outside of the locket.

    I thought about approaching her, not sure what to really do. She wasn’t taking notice of me like I had wanted, but then maybe she couldn’t see me. I wanted her to notice me, I wanted those great blue eyes to hold me in their gentle embrace. Yet, I felt that there must be a reason I wasn’t being noticed. Still, I just wanted to get closer to become further enamored by her beauty.

    I started to speak, but swiftly shut my mouth. I felt that maybe I should just walk over instead. She’d definitely take notice of me then, would she not?

    I began to walk to her, being careful not to step on anything to disturb the scenery. My heart was pounding nonetheless as I kept moving towards her, my face becoming flush, my palms sweaty and sticky, my footsteps heavy. Then something caught my eye as I began to get a few feet from her, something very off.

    It was her eyes. They were looking at me with a bit of tribulation and fear, but they were not baby blue anymore. They were now weary and bloodshot, almost as if the weight of the world were thrown into her body and trying to manifest itself through her eyes.

    She was no longer this creature of beauty, but an old haggard thing. Her face had aged immensely, her once fair cheeks now wrinkled and dried. Her lips were cracked and bare, with little splotches of blood here and there. Her gloves were slipping off her hands and her hair was no longer decorated with beautiful jewels and trinkets, but tarnished brass and plastic things. Her beautiful blonde hair was now faded and even graying a bit in the front.
    It scared me to see this sudden and drastic change in her. She stared at me dolefully, as if she were trying to tell me something important. She reached her hand out to me, as if inviting me to grab it. I reached at first, but withdrew my hand, unsure if I should.

    Then she started to cry, but she wasn’t crying tears like a normal person was. No, it was a bit darker, something I wasn’t sure of at first. I took a few steps forward and inspected her face a bit more and then took a step back aghast. The tears flowing were not tears, but blood. Dark crimson floods came from her eyes and streaked her cheeks. She reached up and wiped away from under one eye with her hand, the blood staining her glove.

    I couldn’t bear the sight anymore, it was too much. At first I started to back away slowly, but soon had turned heel and was running from her, only looking back once or twice. As I moved away, she started to become older and older until I heard a collapse. I dared not look back at first, but froze when I could run no longer. Begrudgingly I turned and looked towards her, seeing nothing left but a pile of bones, dust, and the blue taffeta, now eaten by the moths and torn from years of misuse, and the locket sitting on top.

    I started to walk back to where she was, but began to feel funny. At first I thought maybe what was happening to her was about to happen to me, but instead I fell to the ground asleep. When I woke up, I was in my bed, in a cold sweat. I looked around and could see no signs of having been where I just was. I shook my head and wiped the sweat away, wondering if it had all been a dream.

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