Preface

 I open my eyes. Green envelopes the world around me as I stretch, sit up, and take a deep breath. A new day. I feel a sharp pricking in my ankle, and look down to see the imprints of a large, bursting pricker bush tattooing the fingerprints of a night spent under the trees on my skin. I look around, and see the sun just starting to peep its head out- as ready for a new day as I am. The faint traces of the night sky are quickly escaping to the West and the shadows of the leaves above me no longer dance vicariously in the moonlight.

I stretch my arms above my head and yawn. The bed of greens below me is flattened to the ground- squished mercilessly by the weight of my slim but sturdy frame. I rustle the brown, flaky leaves out of my hair and watch as they float effortlessly to the ground. The dew of morning begins to seep through the worn material of my jeans, and I stand to my feet. For the first time today, I look around to see a sprinkling of people dotting the various paths of the park- a lady out for an early morning jog alternates between looking for a song on her obnoxiously large, zebra print covered iPod, and checking her watch for the time of what must be her 3^rd or 4^th mile today.

I hear a dog barking from behind me, and spin around to see a large, drooling Labrador running towards me with what must be a piece of bark dangling from his mouth. I hurriedly walk away. The gaping wound left by the memories of yesteryear continues to ache, so I pick up the pace. The wind rustles my hair as I whiz toward the pavilion that's seated about 400 yards from where I am. Bright yellow picnic tables stand straight and empty- waiting for someone to come along and keep them company.

Out of breath from my near run to the pavilion, I sit down on top the largest one- it faces the beautiful mountains to the West and leaves just enough room for me to stretch my legs out while I lay on the top. Just as my eyelids begin to flutter closed, I hear heavy breathing to my right. Squinting one eye open, I see the tall, gaping figure of someone blessed with flawlessly glowing blonde hair reaching effortlessly to the small of her back. I turn away, wishing for the millionth time that I could possess the superhuman power of invisibility. The fog of suppressed hurt and rejection washes over me as I relinquish my once ever-present confidence to the one girl who has the power to take the entity of who I am and what I've done, and squash it to the ground with her menacing eyes in a matter of seconds. Between her affectionate smile, her sparkling blue eyes, and her ever-sweet voice, she is able to effectively mask the evil deception that lurks within the confines of her pitch black heart. To the world, she is just a sweet, innocent girl with a heart of gold and a smile to match. But to me, she is the villain determined to bring me to the edges of hell, and with one swift motion, throw me into the fiery pits of exclusion and disembodiment.

Closing my eyes again, I beg only to escape to a world of my very own, a world created by my own design. I begin to slip into this world, the green of the grass, the feel of the picnic tables, and sound of her footsteps slowly fading away as I accept the invitation to explore the recesses of my mind for a place where I can be the narrator. A place where I control the story, instead of it controlling me.

Reviews

[Singing Bird]

Hi Renee. Read this piece and found that it gradually drew me in. Like the way you opened up the picture with it's surrounds, interestingly graphic in it's unfoldment. You've got me interested in reading some more of your work. Thank you.