Explosive (explode_darling) wrote in vibrant_ink,

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Where have all her fairytales gone?

A short story.. I'm not sure.. it may grow into something more.

Lavender eyelit fabric shileds blinking green eyes from an unsuspecting world. Brown leaves create a fall out shelter for the blue figure resting upon them. A move of the lavender sleeve displays a sweet sunset of the most thrilling pinks, enthralling oranges, and spectacular yellows imaginable. The green eyes squint behind dark lashes, focusing on the marvelous violet shading in the sky. The word favorite spans across her mind as she intently starts at the intense shade of purple.

Dusty books and wrinkled faces once shared with her stories of purple. 'The color of royalty,' Scarlet recites in a whisper. With her lightly colored bell sleeves she embodies every one of these handed down qualities. Every cherished oral tradition makes up this unique collage of a young woman. Perhaps the jeans she wears will never match up with the curious wild spirit dwelling within her. Any such thoughts are detourrants from what is important. At this moment, Scarlet's green eyes seem to lose sight of whatever that may be.

Her bare feet hit the sierra shaded ground. Fleeing such places as these carries its own inexplainable priority. The balls of her feet tap the dry terrain rhythmically. If such safe haven were to be discovered, Scarlet's solitude may be compromised. Short breaths through parted lips match light footprintes that seemingly separate friendly from unknown, treasured from despised.

The glorious sunset fades and her raven colored hair stands out against the grey marble building. She slips inside, no sounds escaping into the desolate landscaping of the forgotten city block. Turning a dull silver key in a colorless door know, she lets herself into the heartbreaking silence that surrounds her life.

A family used to live here. Music used to embody their existance, not as individuals, but as one mind, one unit. Now there is nothing but emptiness. Home used to be where her heart was, but now it's all just one big memroy. They all still live here, they just no longer speak. Scarlet goes to a silent pale room, it may have been pink once, but no one really remembers.

Light intrudes through nearly translucent eyelids. Morning interrupts empty dreams. She strips from that purple shirt and lets way too hot water pour down on her shoulders. The absence of being touched gets to her, but feeling the burning sensation against her body reminds her that her nerves still exist. Water droplets on a tile floor provide sound enough in such a noiseless environment, her foster 'parents' are already gone.

Scarlet ties her black hair up in a blue bird ribbon. There is no need for mirrors, she has long forgotten how she may look. Another thin top, suitable for the sunshine, matches her ribbon. Today though, she will need extra strength. Today, she prays, will be different. She secures a charm with the latter 'T' firmly on her ankle. That royal knot will protect her.

She woke up this morning craving hope. She woke up hungry for redemption. The flourescent lighting and grimy desks provide neither. No one even acknowledges her presence. She leaves the teenage hell hole, still hungry for something other than bodily sustenance. There is nothing for her here, and through eyes clouded with tears, she can see that clear as day.

Where have all her fairytales gone? What has become of all her dreams? Ambition and beauty have lost out to fear and hatred. Her magical purples and angelic shadows have faded into shafes of grey. She has no explanation, though she hopes against all hopes that the life hers has become is only a temporary reality. All Scarlet wants is to wake up with those colors that so intoxicate her mind all around her. All she ever wanted was to stop being alone.

But in a world such as this, is there an alternative? The synapses in her mind relay reactions and impulses, begging her not to ask that question. Scarlet is not the heroine. Scarlet is a victim, but perhaps more of her own disillusions than of this superficial world. That royal purple and the glorious world most certainly exist, but sorrounded by shades of grey, Scarlet finds them hard to see.

Now it's time to find her fairytales. It's time to start writing new happy stories and stop living in the ones passed. Scarlet must reconnect with a world that causes fear to course through her veins. She has no other option but to speak.
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