The Lady In The Cottage Of Nowhere

The Lady

          A weird light-skinned, red-eyed girl in her ankle-lenght overall lived in a cottage located in the middle of nowhere. The girl is alone in the cottage and was locked up for decades by a nobody.
          At first, she writes the days of the week, the month, and the year on the walls to keep record of her time in the cottage. After a while, she begins skipping a day or several days. Soon, days, months, and years become a meaningless jumble. She forgets her birthday, and then her name.
          But what does it matter? No one comes to visit, no one asks her name, no one asks how old she is.
          At first, the cottage seems large, but soon it shrinks - or seems to. It becomes a prison. The disappeared long ago. No matter - she's afraid to leave. She starts to feel the presence of beings, faint in the daytime but solid and loud at night.
          Nothing can she do. The door is locked from the outside, she could not obey the commands. She huddles in the shadows, her eyes closed, her fingers in her ears and as she waits for them to leave, someone tapped her shoulder from behind. As soon as she turned to see who did, immediately she screamed and was knocked out.
          She woke up after weeks went by, forgetting all that had happened before she got knocked out. Her mind tussles but all to no avail, but to her things seemed familiar.
          Every morning, the girl looks at the date written on the wall - June 5, 1908. She doesn't remember why she wrote the date or what happened that day. In deed, she isn't even sure she wrote it. Maybe someone else, some other girl was here once. Maybe that girl wrote the date.
          Someone, perhaps that other girl, certainly not herself drew pictures on the wall. They tell a story, a terrible story. The story frightens her. It makes her cry sometimes.
          In a strange way, she knows the story is true, the story is about her. Not the girl she is now, but perhaps the girl she used to be before she got knocked out.
          But who was that girl? A girl should remember her own name, if nothing else. Why is her brain so fuzzy?
          There are other paintings in the room, real and beautiful paintings. A few hang on the walls, but most of them lean against the wall. The same people are in most of them. A pretty woman, a bearded woman, a freaky pimpled-faced man - a family. She pretends she's the little girl. The pretty woman, her Grandma. The bearded woman, her mother and the man, her father.
          She must have had a father and a mother once. Everyone should.
          She talks to them, and she talks for them. They have made-up conversations that she never remembers for more than a day. If only she could bring them to life. Why can't they step out of the paintings and keep her company?
          Years passed by as the girl lost interest in the drawings on the wall. "What good are they to me? They're just faces on canvas. They can't even see nor hear me." She said. "They are useless", she concluded.
          Seasons follow each other round and round like clockwork figures. Leaves fall, snow falls, rain falls. Gradually the cottage blends into the woods and people forget it's there.
          The girl stays in. She no longer knows who or what she is waiting for. Something, someone...
                                                 The End.