This is going to be a small compilation of short stories that I have written over the course of 3 years. It will be ranging from Subverted Fairytales to Random Historical Fictions. It even has some very heart felt pieces that bring awareness to some...
This story is more a descriptive piece and it is really heart felt. Those that know me in real life would know where this came from. But for those of you that don't know me, I just want this to be a piece that you can relate to or open your eyes about what others could be going through without any others knowing. I just hope you can feel what I was saying when I wrote this. xx Rach
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She was moody sometimes like this. Her running nose, dripping down to her upper lip. She would then, wipe it with her blue, tennis jacket and the silvery, shiny liquid would crystallise. Some people thought of it as foul and disgusting, but she did it subconsciously. Her lips were a sweet crimson, when her white teeth bit down on them, the blood rushed out. When she shook her head, lots of little bits of dead skin floated down. Sometimes she wished she could change the way she looked. like she wasn't any different. Patches of rough, dry skin coated her arms and legs, in the worst of seasons, the skin would crack. People around would notice the way she walked, the way she didn't stretch her arms and the way she tried not to move her neck. We all knew it was hurting her, but we couldn't help her. Her eyes always glistened, she was always on the verge of tears, when the fell she would quickly wipe them away with her long and bony fingers. Another thing that she found unusual about herself. They were pointy at the tip and the middle parts of her fingers were larger than the rest of it.
She failed to notice the things that were good about her. Her brain was sharp and at the sight of any sort of written problem her eyes lit up and her chocolate eyes were soft and filled with warmth. If only someone like me had a brain like that. She was fast with anything that had anything to do with computers or maths or putting things together. Her legs were like sticks, her muscles were defined, even through her dry, cracked skin and she loved running. However, with all these qualities, she still failed to see them for herself. She felt worthless and would cry to herself. It takes more than a look in a mirror to see who you really are, some people just can't see it for themselves.
