This is the rewrite of Varsha the golden. :) tell me what you think.
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*Varsha the golden*
-Preface-
Once upon time there was a poor family who lived on a barren farm. They were happy despite their meager possessions and tiny home. The man and woman had one light in their life; their daughter. Varsha was a thin child, pale and sickly. Her mousy brown hair and bland grey eyes held no wondrous spark or excited gleam yet she was loved, and that was all that mattered.
Varsha would play with the scrawny animals her parents owned, running through the forest that edged their small estate until her cheeks grew red and lungs burned. She couldn't say she was happy with her life; it was too simple, too empty of excitement and attractive chances. Of course, Varsha couldn't tell her beloved parents how stifled she felt, it would crush them. Her mother was sick enough as it was, taking to her bed most days. And her father would get that sad, disappointed light in his eyes that appeared whenever his daughter did something wrong.
No, she would rather live in silence that hurt them like that, so she did.
Once cool spring day Varsha was sitting on the sparse yellow grass with her old scraggly dog, Bellie. Her thin shift itched her skin and a cool breeze drifted across her bare legs. She scratched Bellie's head, sighing. "When will my life begin, Bellie? I don't want this to be it." They sat in silence for a while then, watching the sun sketch a path across the pale sky.
"Varsha?" her father's voice called from the house. Varsha sighed and lay back on the grass, ignoring him. "Varsha!" he called again, sounding desperate. She frowned, sitting up. Normally he would call then come looking for her. Something was wrong.
She stood and hurried back to the house, wiping her dirty hands on her shift. He father stood in the doorway, waiting anxiously. Varsha began to run, arriving breathless.
"Father! What is it? What's wrong?" she asked, looking up into his pale face and saw how the lines framing his mouth and nose had deepened.
"It's your mother, Varsha. She's dying." He gasped the words out, leaning against the doorframe with his head down. "Go to her."
Varsha felt her heart pound, sweat formed on her skin, chilling her, and her stomach twisted ruthlessly. Hurrying into the bedroom she drew deeps breaths, wheezing. The moment she entered the room and saw her mother's face something inside her crumpled, fractured. Broke.
Her eyes were sunken, cheeks sallow and paper-rough.
Varsha rushed to her side, grasping her bony hand. "Mother." She sobbed and pressed her face into the blanket. Her mother stroked her hair weakly.
"Don't cry Varsha. Everyone has their time and I have accepted that, I only wish that I could stay to see you grow up." She tightened her hand on Varsha's. "Whatever happens in life, Varsha….you can't let it hurt you, can't let-" her words were interrupted by a violent spurt of coughing. "-you can't let the darkness grow.." Tears filled her eyes and she coughed wetly. Varsha saw a splash of red appear on her mother's lips. Fear shot through her as she saw her mother's face grow white and her eyes glaze over. "I'm…sorry…Varsha…" her words trailed off in a rattling sigh and the hand on Varsha's head fell limp.
The young girl let out a keening wail, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her father stood in the doorway, shuddering with the force of his sobs. In that moment he seemed to age a hundred years, standing there crying.
Varsha still clasped her dead mother's hand but she was quiet now. Her head was empty, her heart—splintering, shattering like a mirror hidden in a dungeon, in darkness. Swathed in darkness.