Short Stories!

The Truth (angst)

Quick Side Note: i hope i never promised regular updates but i probably did at some point.  anyway, this is one of two things i wrote a little bit ago, because i was sad, and i am stupid. i will (hopefully) post the other one soon, but i will probably forget. ive returned to the warm embrace of my old friend, vague and confusing 3rd person present. i am very tired but desperately want to write, so on with the show!

The party has started, she can hear the laughter and clinking glasses from her room upstairs. She hears her mother's thin voice trickle up to her ears, calling for her to get ready, quickly now. She calls back but doesn't move. The note is clutched in her hands, her tears have stained it.

Denying it would be easy, but it only makes sense for it to be about her. She is the only child her parents ever had. The lone heir, a tall, slim girl with hair the color of the night sky, and eyes that twinkle like the stars.

She feels lost, rereading it over and over, hoping for the words to change, for it all to be a lie. But it makes sense. Her father's rich work friends always marveled at her. How she was so tall, where did she get that from? How her cheekbones were so prominent, who else had those? Now she knows the truth, breaking her heart at each reading of the note.

She realizes through tear-filled eyes that the date at the top is the one they called her birthday. She supposes that it is wrong. It must be before then.

She tries to imagine the day. Was it sunny? Perhaps, but clouds and rain suit her mood much better. A cloudy sky and the heavens pouring open, and the cries of a baby filling the air. She imagines her mother opening the door, shocked and surprised, then her heart filling with delight. She must have always wanted a child. And here was one delivered straight to her. She must have called her husband. The look he always gives her makes sense now. Out of the corner of his eyes, filled with guilt and sorrow. It all makes sense now. Like she had always had the pieces and now finally felt the need to put together the puzzle.

She was always different from her parents. She was rebellious and wild. She pulled pranks and danced on tables, her mother was always finding a reason to scold her. Her hair was never done right. She was riding the horses too fast. She was playing with the boys, that was unfitting for a girl of her stature. It makes sense now, so much sense. She is not theirs. And they had never told her. They led her to believe that she was one of them, rich and haughty and all-powerful. They made her believe she was supposed to be just like them.

She tries to imagine her mother. Her real one, not the one who lied to her for 17 years. She must have had beautiful hair, and a smile like sunshine. A glorious singing voice, one that made all the birds stop and listen. She must have been sought after by every man she came across, only letting the ones she liked back get close. Then one day, she found herself pregnant. She must have been so delighted to finally have a family. She told the man, but he shunned her, saying that he didn't want to stay. That she was just supposed to be a fling. He didn't want to be tied down. Well neither did she. She was always a free spirit. Wild and mischievous. She was a peasant as well, without the help of the man she would not be able to take care of her child. She must give her to someone who could, who would give her a good life.

So she wrote a note, hands shaking, so scared and alone. She snuck to the home under the cover of night and placed a baby in a basket on the doorstep, swaddled in a bright yellow blanket she had made herself. How it tortured her to leave her child there, but she had to.

And now, in the present, her self proclaimed mother yells at her from down the stairs, saying that she is horrible to make the guests wait like this. She lied to her all this time. She wants to retch just thinking about it.

So she ties up her hair, paints her lips a deep red, and powders her cheeks. She slips on a dress of fine silk and a heavy diamond necklace and makes her way to the party. Her mother marvels at how well behaved she's being, and her father says nothing, only nodding when she meets his eyes. She catches a glimpse of his guilt-filled gaze and turns away. She speaks with all the guests that approach her, even though she hates their fake smiles and sickly sweet voices. She denies every request to dance and ignores her mother's frowns. She doesn't care. She doesn't have to please her anymore.

By the end of the night she will be long gone, her footsteps a memory. Her parents will look all over for her, scouring her room for a reason why. She thought of leaving a note, but no, they don't deserve one. Her mother left a note and they didn't even tell her. They will find her favorite horse gone, a black mare as rowdy and untamed as she was. They will scream her name to the night sky and it will mean nothing. Tomorrow that name will be a distant memory, fading away, away until it is lost forever. She will don a new one and leave her past in the dust.

The world is big and bright, there must be a place for her somewhere. Someone out there is looking for her, and she will find them. And if they still don't want her, she will carve a new place for herself. The world is endless, and she is brave. As brave as her mother, to leave her one child behind, so she could have a better life, and braver than her false parents, who lied to her for so long.

She will never return, that is a promise. She doesn't need to. She never found a home in those walls, she never could. These people are not her family, not in blood or in spirit.

She doesn't have a plan but she doesn't need one. The future is hers to sculpt and create. She is young and bold and ready for anything. She will break walls and travel endlessly. She will build bridges and meet people in foreign lands. She will see things she could never imagine, that make her heart feel full. Her untameable spirit will blossom and grow, and she will be unstoppable.

It is her time. The world may not be ready, but she finally is.