Gamine
by : epiphanies
The world was silent. Salient. Living on its own with nothing to occupy it past the stars and moon which shone down in wistful rays but said nothing. Little could ever bother the world, make her turn her head. The world was a sanctuary for such a girl.
Such a girl, they would say. Such a girl, who would live under the moonlight and stare upwards for hours, wordless and worldless. Such a girl would sneak around past visiting hours and pour firewhiskey into the punch on graduation day. Such a girl, they would say. Such a girl.
An idle, they would call her, with her honey-blonde hair and convincing eyes. Eyes, they would say, that could enrapture any man, ensnare them into such unspeakable things that they truly were never said, only spoken in words beyond words, words spoken between the eyes of the wives who had lived through such idles.
Frankly, they would state that she would not live long. Truly, they would say that she wasn't a very cautious girl. She was not the kind of girl to bring home, they warned their sons. Their sons knew that she was not welcome, and so they only occupied her without the company of their parents. Her company she was glad to share, but however crowded she became, she was always alone. Idle and alone, and called a gamine but never really lived to it.
They would say that she smoked muggle cigarettes, of all things, and played the piano with a skill that would make your spine tingle in a very satisfying way - too satisfying, much too satisfying for aristocratic taste.
Really, she only inhaled the smoke and did not touch the cigarette, and really, she played the piano agonizingly s l o w. She watched the moon, not the keys, and whenever her fingers played speedier, she slowed them down enough to sound so very fragmented that nobody would understand why she had stopped. It made sense to her, if to nobody else.
She was not an evil girl, although she liked snakes and wore a scarf of green and silver around her neck. She was not an evil girl, however much she would cackle with the other girls in the hallways. She was not an evil girl, she only knew that she was not truly taken seriously anyway, so what was the point in being kind or sincere? She was not an evil girl, surely, or she would not have been so fond of the moon, for the moon was pure.
Such a girl would not care what others thought. Such a girl would walk with her head high and bow to no others besides her true equals, which were only her mother and her best friend. Her father had never received a bow, to his great fury. Such a girl would never bend under his strap. She was a strong girl.
Little could ever bother the girl, make her turn her head. Nothing could, such a girl.
I'm back! I don't know when I'll be back again, but it sure was nice to get some Pansy out of my system! She's been poking me lately, telling me to stop ignoring her. Hopefully she'll shut up during my test tomorrow ;) - Emily