DaylightA Story by Esana BridgesI wonder what masterpieces go through?There is no changing fate. One is born into
this world with a life already laid out. There is no fighting that life, no
stopping it, and there is no choice that one can make that would change the
ending. Every ending has been fixed in time, and a story must always end the
same way. Her skin was
flawless and pale, her hair down to her waist in waves and touched with the
barest hint of daylight glow. That same daylight was echoed in her eyes, which
sparkled like sapphires. Light rouge touched her cheeks, turning them a blessed
pink, one that brought out the color of her lips, red and perfectly shaped,
edges turned slightly down. Her neck curved into well-shaped shoulders and an
even better-formed body. Over that body
was a thin white under gown, pure and soft silk. Over that, a flowing, gauzy
over gown flashing with soft, brilliant colors overemphasized her lovely
paleness. A white hat perched at a tilt on her head, with
several dancing rainbow feathers in the peak. The broad brim of
the hat barely trembled as the girl made her way from one side of the room to
the other, taking tiny measured steps. The austere woman on the other side of the
room nodded in satisfaction as the girl stopped before her. “That was very
well done, Midere.” She clapped her veined hands and carefully adjusted
Midere’s hat. “How are you feeling now? May we start?” Midere lowered
her eyes tinged with daylight and clasped her hands in front of her. “Of
course, Olwon, if that is what you wish.” Olwon bustled
around Midere, applying more minute changes to Midere’s appearance. “You’ve
progressed so well. Father is going to be so happy that you’ve finally moved
on.” She paused. “You have, haven’t you? Do you still want to escape?” She
turned Midere around so that, if Midere hadn’t been examining the floorboards,
they would have been eye-to-eye. “Do you?” “Of course not, Olwon.
I " know - what I’m supposed to become.” I know. A sense of relief
entered Olwon’s voice, though her facial expression didn’t change. “That’s
great, that’s wonderful, Midere. Father will be so glad. He’s been saying for
months and months that you’re his masterpiece.” Masterpiece. “Yes. Of course.” “It’ll be such a
better fate than what most of us have received around here.” Olwon smoothed the
gauze and then fluffed it, sending sparkles flying into the air. “Taken in for
a day, a week, a year, than dumped and sent out with the burnable trash as
something new walks into their life. No, you’ll have no such existence, Midere.
You’ll be loved forever, you’ll be treasured, and - unlike us - you will never
be forgotten.” She gave a last dusting to the hem of the skirt and then ushered
Midere to a chair. “You’re so lucky.” Lucky. Midere sat
quietly, a quick motion of her hands causing the skirts to billow around her, covering
part of the smooth ebony wood. Her hair, sparkling with daylight spilled over
her dress. She placed her feet next to each other, toes pointed straight and
straightened her back. Olwon walked over
to a pair of tough cords, braided and both ended in a thick knot. One of the
cords lay coiled on the floor, while the other hung around waist level. “We’ve
all been put on display before, and we’ve all been taken home by someone. It’s
worse when they take a long time choosing, when you’re the last one left. It
won’t be that way for you, though. Someone’s sure to fall in love with you,
you’re so beautiful.” She took a look at Midere and then stepped out. Beautiful. Stiffly, Midere
placed her hands on her knees, one folded delicately over the other and lifted
her head, tilting it slightly so that white brim of the hat just hovered over
obscuring her right eye. Calm. Midere
gazed into black cloth. Elegant. Graceful. “Midere?” A
little rabbit waddled from the side, a sad expression in its large, shiny,
black eyes. “Are you sure?” It was in a sad state, with tattered fur and one
ear that had been half-torn off in some long ago fight. “If you want, we can
help you escape again. You can be free - like you wanted! I’m sure that this
time -” Children are sitting in a green, grass meadow.
Flowers of every color imaginable dot the scene and there is a blue-checker
picnic blanket spread out on the grass. On the blanket is a little brown wicker
basket, its lid half off. Inside, there are cakes and tea. Two little girls are sitting across from each other.
They are reaching into the basket, taking out the sweet cakes and pretend tea.
Next to both of them sit little dolls, with porcelain - or something very like
porcelain - teacups in front of them. The children were laughing, the flower
petals fluttering, and even the dolls seem to be smiling - “No.” The battered
rabbit looked up at Midere, who faced her gaze ahead, at that only thing that
separated her from her future. “But Midere! You’re not going to be happy!
Father and Olwon are wrong! You shouldn’t just be a masterpiece! You should be
able to have fun and play.” The rabbit lowered his head. “You shouldn’t be a
masterpiece,” Its voice was low and sad. “They never see the sun.” A man walked onto
stage, his face generously coated with lines and scars. His hands were like
giant spiders and held a black microphone. He rolled it nervously in his palm
and waited for the clapping to subside to a dull roar before he lifted his hand
and began to speak. “Ladies and
gentleman, I’d like to welcome you to my coming back ceremony after having
retired 14 years ago. In the beginning, I was simply going to reproduce some of
my more famous works in order to generate money for my toy store, but when I
sat down to fix up those pieces, my hands began to itch, and tonight I would
like to show you my newest creation. It is my first since I retired
and started making dolls and playthings for children. This was probably the
hardest work that I have ever done. Every time I thought that the idea was
ready for creation, it slipped away from me, and I almost made another toy. In
the end, however, I have finally managed to conquer all that, and this next
piece that you see next is what I consider to be my finest work.” He stepped to the
side and lifted his hand and, as if by magic, with his hand, lifted the curtain
of black velvet. In the center of
a stage, under a beam of intense light, sat a beautiful doll made of polished
porcelain. She had pale,
perfect skin and hair and eyes that were touched by daylight. There is no changing fate. © 2011 Esana BridgesAuthor's Note
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Added on October 29, 2011Last Updated on November 13, 2011 Tags: short story Previous Versions AuthorEsana BridgesAboutI love mysterious things that send shivers down my back. I like emotion. I love craziness. Fairy tale rewrites or something to do with Alice in Wonderland will draw me in immediately. Feel free to .. more..Writing
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