Word Scribbles

4/18/19

A trick of the light

A young girl sits on a children's playground. It seems almost surreal how broken she looks, that if you passed by you might take a picture. She stares straight ahead with eyes devoid of emotion. Her eyes bear no happiness, joy, or surprise, but they carry no sadness either. If you were to make eye contact it would probably scare you. But it would probably scare you more that there were tear tracks down her cheeks, it shows you that she cared once just not anymore.

Her posture looks broken she looks like a puppet with their strings cut, or a porcelain doll that shattered on the floor. It seems as if you could push her and she'd fall. And if she fell she'd stay there. She seemed almost dead. She was like a little toy solider whose purpose was lost with time, so as time passed she melted down into a pile of wax to be reused. Her joints were loose and it seemed all that was keeping her was some simple strand of reality.

The more you look at her the more pain it puts you in to see someone so broken. You have to avert your eyes because in her you see someone you recognize, someone you see on a regular basis, yet she was never like this. She were always so strong so this couldn't be her.

A few seconds later you look back and see her. Her hands are folded over her lap and her posture is comfortable. Her eyes carry happiness and concern as she stares up at you, her smile is easy and relaxed. This is the girl you recognized one that you see regularly. You push the image of the broken girl into the depths of your mind and convince your self it was just a trick of the light.