Iphigenia 440 words

Children's fantasy

Iphigenia �" 440 words

 

 

Her small frame snuggled under a coat, not hers, a gift by the grace of strangers. Unkempt hair the color and texture of cedar bark, ratty and ragged, cascaded down, flowing over her shoulders. Dark eyes watched the dark sky. The snow-covered earth, cold and unrelenting beneath her, refused her invitation. The wind whispered through bare trees, unable to wrestle back the drunken shouts behind nearby closed doors.

The words, muffled, were never about her. The words, muffled, were always about her.

Snow, driven as if by a god, bit at her pallid flesh, stinging like angry bees.

Dark eyes watched the dark sky. The clouds opened above the trees, revealing a single star. The dim light fell upon her.

She danced happily among spring flowers, the flowers tickling her legs, filling her with sick-sweet fragrances. A gossamer fabric, a dress of her own, never worn by anyone else, caressed her slight frame, dancing with her. The sun washed down, warming her, filling her up, as love should.

Dark eyes watched the dark sky, the star, gone, swallowed like Jonah. Her soul hurt, ached, yearned, mourned. The shrill wind-mangled voices from the house leaned against her spirit. She wanted to cry. She burned to cry, all tears spent, none remained.

Diffused at first, another star forced its silver light against the clouds, coming down on her.

She sat tall, erect, to see over the table, so crowded with serving plates and bowls, she couldn’t drop a pebble and not hit food. The air, thick with aroma and laughter, presented smiling faces, rich with life.

“Would you like to say grace, Iphigenia?”

She looked toward the voice, taking her father’s eyes. Not her father, her father in the vision, the father who would never smack her. “I don’t know how.”

Joyfully. “We’ll all join hands and say grace together!”

They did, the thirteen. Then, they ate.

The clouds removed the star. She let the coat, not hers, drop behind her, dark eyes watching the dark sky, the cold swimming around her naked form like the ocean currents embrace the earth. She shivered once, and then, again, the frigid night finally a gauntlet between her and the house, the terrible drunken shouts.

A twinkle, a wink. A third star fell upon her. Dark eyes disappeared behind life-tired eyelids.

Bright eyes watched brilliant clouds, like white cotton candy awash with a sun always laughing.

“I love you, Iphigenia.” The voice filled her.

“I know. I know.” A tear dropped down her golden cheek, falling through the clouds, crystallizing, dancing among the other snowflakes, looking for home.
       
           
 

Reviews

[Justin Tobey]

An excellent story. It shows the life of a girl, giving both happy and sad memories. I love the ending; the tears made it bittersweet, but that just added more emotion and made me start to wonder and brought me into the storyline even more. It was a soft, emotional ending to a terrific piece. Well done and Blessed Be!

[Michael Handel]

Wow! This is a very interesting piece. I had to read very slowly and then re-read certain parts to try and let it soak in. I think it is very well written first off....Clearly, there is a lot of meaning in every sentence and the juxtaposition of emotional context between the happy, blue-text, spring-time, family-ish portion and the dreary, lonely, winter-time portion is stunning. You pay a lot of attention to detail and have a lot of richnesss in your use of symbolism...the clothing that isn't hers in the lonely cold vs. the dress that is "hers" amongst the social context of love, acceptance, and family....I could keep going but I don't want to take up your comment portion here...again, I say wow(jaw slightly agape), truly...It gives me some ideas and for that inspiration I thank you and look forward to reading the rest of your work. Thank you for writing this.

[HeyMisterBlue]

excellent!
I'm thinking a young girl who's been placed perhaps in foster care, large home full of children, trying to shut everything away but the stars and sky, melancholy and morose, sweet and intriging, my spelling might be bad but I don't feel like spell checking atm... :) look forward to reading moreof your excellent writing.

[Wildfleour]

What a gem, KC.

[WritefromtheHeart]

Oh this is a real find, a treasure to be sure. I love the way you give us where she is, and then where she wishes to be...your descriptions are heart-wrenching in places, poignant in others...I feel I want to save her, offer her comfort. I'm so glad I found this to read tonight ;-)

[fireblossom]

A young girl of an abusive environment is driven into the cold night wearing only someone else's coat. She dreams of better things. Inside she senses she is lovable. They haven't taken that from her...yet.

Touching and gently written. The author stays far enough from the character to keep it real. There is much to find out about Iphigenia. She needs the readers presence to save her. It's a hook of tremendous value.

Finally, a writer I can read without worry. There are telling facts presented. She stays out of the way and allows the story to unfold inside my mind. She trusts me to get it. She ennobles her reader with these choices.

Thank you for cutting the long introduction. If I needed it I don't deserve you.

Thank you very much.

[Raef C. Boylan]

Yeah, it works for me.
I like how you give us insight into aspects of her life and her fantasies without spelling it out for us, or even showing us her thought processes:

"The words, muffled, were never about her. The words, muffled, were always about her."

"They did, the thirteen."
[have I read this right: she wants a big family, because she's currently the only kid, having to shoulder all the burden?]

There are some great images throughout this piece, and it doesn't read like you've tried too hard or overdone it, which is cool - such as:

"tear...dancing among the other snowflakes" [because all tears are also unique and precious?]
"shrill wind-mangled voices"
"Snow, driven as if by a god, bit at her pallid flesh, stinging like angry bees"

Suffering children were a big part of Hans Christian Andersen, if I remember rightly?

I like your healthy fascination with Greek mythology. Too much of it in poetry can get tedious, but now and again, and in prose by you, it works.

Overall, good work.
I feel I'm missing out on the underlying theme, and you're feeling pissed off about it as you read this.
Sorry, if that's true.