IN THE EYES OF A CHILD
In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form and void, and the darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon those waters. And God said, Let there be light.
And there was light. (Genesis Chapter 1, versus 1-3)
~*~*~
"Once upon a time, in a land not so far away …."
Like a beacon, or an over-head lamp strung high, a stream of light focused down into the oubliette of darkness. And beyond this light there was nothing but the space and the unknown. Simple darkness unfilled, unformed, just simply there, consuming everything beyond that solitary light.
"A village like yours, with people and shops, with children and laughter…."
But it was nothing strange and different that this light did shine upon, but a single person, as many a light do. It was focus on an armchair. Tall backed, and made of a deep brown leather, much like the chair to a man or woman's working office, it seemed to engulf it's occupant, too rigid and too stately for one of such. For it seemed to fit in no way to the one who sat on it.
"There lived a princess."
The inhabitant was a small child. A girl child with fiery red hair, that hung limp to her shoulders. Body curled up in the chair, her knees were pulled to her chest, hands locked together around them in a grip of death. Her face was inclined downward, making the hair shadow her face even in this light. Her face could barely be made out and her eyes hid from sight, as many things hid from the darkness. For to be seen was to be taken.
"And she was very, very happy. For a time…"
She wore a simple play time outfit of shorts and a shirt. And while they were dusted by dirt, and tattered one or two places with love, the shirt still had stripes and the pants were still a brown, even at faded. There were stains here and there on that yellow and brown striped shirt. The clothes looked well worn. In fact, they looked like they could have used a good cleaning. As did the child.
"And then it was all taken away from her."
There were stains here and there all over her. A smug along her nose, that looked like it might have gone to a cheek, but the shadows took that view away. Dirt scuffed along a pant leg, a long stain dark brown -or was it red?- along one of her arms from her hand.
"Everything was taken from her. The people, the shops, the laughter. Her happiness."
She shifted in her seat, barely, but enough to move some of the shadows, and enough to make a noise. A sniffle that took longer than a few seconds. Perhaps it was two. The girl buried her face in her knees, her hair like a blanket around them at that close proximity, till she moved to write herself again. She raised a hand to wipe her face. Or perhaps tear?
"In less than two minutes the world would change her life forever. It didn't even care. Not Before. Not after."
But no. There was not a drop of salt water on the hand when it came back from rubbing the nose and cheek, smearing the dirt a little better into the pale white skin. But of course. Little Girls don't cry. Little Girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice. Of rainbows and daisy chain. Of laughter, squeals of joy and smiles. But never tears.
"So they found a way to drive her insane, that she couldn't fight."
A whirling noise, that seemed to echo on and on, sounded and the girl through her head back against the chair back. Her face became visible, pale skin, dirt mark and all. Her face was light as petals, though it seemed dusted with the smallest freckles and lightest sun kisses across her nose, that come to children who play in the sun so long.
"Helpless to fight them they locked her up in the one place she could never escape."
Her eyes were the draw back though. A blue like the sky, so uncanny, and frank usually. This time they seemed cold, and dark as a deep lake. They were without emotion, feeling, or care. Like twin mirrors empty and waiting, piercing the darkens with her cold hard stare. She would have no interruption. She had shut it all down and placed it all away and out on purpose.
"Jeanie-Bean…"
This voice was different. It was slightly annoyed, and sharp, but more than anything it sounded tired. The light seemed to form around a person walking out of the darkness. She was small, with dirty brown hair that hung loose, and wild as if she come from playing outside. And in her hands she carried the one thing, that made the fiery haired girl gasp.
"Don't you think it's time you stopped living in your head with the fairy tales?"
A red Frisbee.
In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form and void, and the darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon those waters. And God said, Let there be light.
And there was light. (Genesis Chapter 1, versus 1-3)
~*~*~
"Once upon a time, in a land not so far away …."
Like a beacon, or an over-head lamp strung high, a stream of light focused down into the oubliette of darkness. And beyond this light there was nothing but the space and the unknown. Simple darkness unfilled, unformed, just simply there, consuming everything beyond that solitary light.
"A village like yours, with people and shops, with children and laughter…."
But it was nothing strange and different that this light did shine upon, but a single person, as many a light do. It was focus on an armchair. Tall backed, and made of a deep brown leather, much like the chair to a man or woman's working office, it seemed to engulf it's occupant, too rigid and too stately for one of such. For it seemed to fit in no way to the one who sat on it.
"There lived a princess."
The inhabitant was a small child. A girl child with fiery red hair, that hung limp to her shoulders. Body curled up in the chair, her knees were pulled to her chest, hands locked together around them in a grip of death. Her face was inclined downward, making the hair shadow her face even in this light. Her face could barely be made out and her eyes hid from sight, as many things hid from the darkness. For to be seen was to be taken.
"And she was very, very happy. For a time…"
She wore a simple play time outfit of shorts and a shirt. And while they were dusted by dirt, and tattered one or two places with love, the shirt still had stripes and the pants were still a brown, even at faded. There were stains here and there on that yellow and brown striped shirt. The clothes looked well worn. In fact, they looked like they could have used a good cleaning. As did the child.
"And then it was all taken away from her."
There were stains here and there all over her. A smug along her nose, that looked like it might have gone to a cheek, but the shadows took that view away. Dirt scuffed along a pant leg, a long stain dark brown -or was it red?- along one of her arms from her hand.
"Everything was taken from her. The people, the shops, the laughter. Her happiness."
She shifted in her seat, barely, but enough to move some of the shadows, and enough to make a noise. A sniffle that took longer than a few seconds. Perhaps it was two. The girl buried her face in her knees, her hair like a blanket around them at that close proximity, till she moved to write herself again. She raised a hand to wipe her face. Or perhaps tear?
"In less than two minutes the world would change her life forever. It didn't even care. Not Before. Not after."
But no. There was not a drop of salt water on the hand when it came back from rubbing the nose and cheek, smearing the dirt a little better into the pale white skin. But of course. Little Girls don't cry. Little Girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice. Of rainbows and daisy chain. Of laughter, squeals of joy and smiles. But never tears.
"So they found a way to drive her insane, that she couldn't fight."
A whirling noise, that seemed to echo on and on, sounded and the girl through her head back against the chair back. Her face became visible, pale skin, dirt mark and all. Her face was light as petals, though it seemed dusted with the smallest freckles and lightest sun kisses across her nose, that come to children who play in the sun so long.
"Helpless to fight them they locked her up in the one place she could never escape."
Her eyes were the draw back though. A blue like the sky, so uncanny, and frank usually. This time they seemed cold, and dark as a deep lake. They were without emotion, feeling, or care. Like twin mirrors empty and waiting, piercing the darkens with her cold hard stare. She would have no interruption. She had shut it all down and placed it all away and out on purpose.
"Jeanie-Bean…"
This voice was different. It was slightly annoyed, and sharp, but more than anything it sounded tired. The light seemed to form around a person walking out of the darkness. She was small, with dirty brown hair that hung loose, and wild as if she come from playing outside. And in her hands she carried the one thing, that made the fiery haired girl gasp.
"Don't you think it's time you stopped living in your head with the fairy tales?"
A red Frisbee.