Outside The Window

 (A/N heyyy this is really crappy but here you go..) (A/N 2.0  i realized that i had a typo so i fixed it)

She was the young age of six years old when she realized that life in the small, dark room might be more interesting if only she could see out the window. The small pane of glass high on the wall filled her with thoughts of bright light and fresh air.

She spent a long while wondering and daydreaming about what could be out there. What could be casting the shadows that interrupted the light that leaked in? What the source of the light was in the first place?   

It must be something exciting, she reasoned. At the very least, it would be more exciting than her existence here.

 But, try as she might, she had no way to see out of the window. She had no stool or step she could place upon the ground to steal a peak out of the window. So she would have to daydream and imagine.

She would have to wait.

…

She was seven now, and growing impatient. Why did the window have to be so high on the wall, anyway? What purpose did it serve other than to tease her?

There was no reason for it to be there.

…

At eight years old, she realized that it was happenstance that she was placed in a room that had any sort of light source. A person came to visit her. She was a girl of about fifteen, and she called herself Tutor. She taught her wonderful things, like how to write and read. She grew quiet at the mention of the window. Tutor told her she was lucky, that others did not have one. Said it was a coincidence. She did not tell Tutor that she was too short to see.

Tutor gifted her a notebook and pen, and told her to hide it well.

…

She was nine years old, and wrote every day in her little notebook about what might be outside the window. She was tall enough now to see Blue, with the little fluffy bits of White and Gray. But she knew there was more than those colors out there. Tutor had told her stories, and shown her pictures, of Brown, Green, and Red.

Tutor stopped coming to visit.

…

At ten, she thought she would very much like to see Brown in person. A new person visited, only once, and took her notebook. She hid the pen.

He did not find it.

…

Eleven years of age, and she still could not reach the window. She began daydreaming again, about more than just looking out the window, but actually going into it- or out of it, she didn’t quite know. She sat for hours, watching Gray and White drift across Blue. She tried to draw it on the wall, but failed.

The room grew more boring every minute.

…

At twelve, she realized that she did not need paper to write words. She began to draw on her hands. She drew Tutor, and the man who took her notebook. She started to see Green, a little blotch at the bottom of what she could see out of the window. It moved whenever White and Gray did. She wanted to touch the window, but was still too small.

She started to plan.

…

Thirteen was the age when she was tall enough to touch the window, if only when she was on the tips of her toes. It felt cool, and smoother than she was expecting.

She was almost there.

…

Fourteen, and she could see the Brown. It was warm and rough, reaching up into Blue to touch the Green blotch. It was better on her eyes than it was on paper.

She could put her hand on the window now, but it was not enough. And so she waited.

…

Now she was fifteen, and could see that there was more Green than she had thought. It spread from on top of Brown to the ground, covering it. Little spots of Red peeked through Green, all over. She could reach the window now, but that wasn’t enough.

…

At sixteen, she began to pound her fist on the window. Every day, for hours, she would hit the window with all of the anger she could muster. One day, it broke.