Post by Ellie on Jul 27, 2010 0:23:18 GMT -5
This is s short story i wrote the other day. What d'ya think?
Once upon a time there was a story, a myth, a legend, a fairytale. A fairytale without a happy ending.
This story was about a girl called Becca, who was in no way extraordinary.
She was in all ways a normal girl of seven with mousy brown hair, rosy cheeks and eyes of sapphire. She lived in a normal little town, on a normal street, in a normal white house, with a normal garden in which a normal little rosebush grew that sprouted pink and white roses.
Becca’s mother, Jennifer, was a beautiful, willowy character with long chestnut hair and the same sapphire eyes as Becca.
On the 21st of April, after walking home from school together, they stopped by the river that flowed through the little town. It was early spring, the tiniest drops of water dripping slowly from the icicles that hung high on the trees. The day was chilling but the riverbanks had just begun to thaw.
Jennifer pulled Becca right to the water’s edge and murmured, “Be careful, now.” She reached into her handbag and pulled out a paper boat and said, smiling, “Honey, I’ve got something for you.”
Becca took the boat from her mother’s hand and slowly reached toward the surface of the water. She gently put the boat in the water and gave it a small push, getting her mitten wet in the process. That was the best moment of Becca’s short life.
The next day, Jennifer taught Becca to make paper boats.
Spring, summer or fall, becca would, every chance she got, make a paper boat and go to the river. Every time she would wonder where it sailed, for the river was large enough to never see her little boat again.
The next year on the 21st of April, Becca decided to go to the river after school. She, as gently as if she was handling a rare flower that could break any minute, let the boat touch the surface of the river once again. The boat sunk.
Becca was never seen again.
All that was left of her that day was a sopping wet paper boat floating just barely on the river top, surrounded by rose petals.
One evening, exactly a year later on that same day, a willowy figure sat b the river, a single white candle in her hand. As she sat there, a ghost of a smile flashed across her face that was
She smiled a watery smile, for if you looked close enough at the river, through the darkness, you could see dozens of paper boats. Large ones. Small ones. Colored ones and pure white ones. Paper boats with messages scrawled onto them. All floating on the surface of the river, illuminated by the moon.
And as she sits there by the river, illuminated by the flame of her candle, blinded by the tears she let herself cry for the first time since the death of her precious daughter, she finds a peace within herself. A peace she hasn’t felt in a year.
Once upon a time there was a story, a myth, a legend, a fairytale. A fairytale without a happy ending.
This story was about a girl called Becca, who was in no way extraordinary.
She was in all ways a normal girl of seven with mousy brown hair, rosy cheeks and eyes of sapphire. She lived in a normal little town, on a normal street, in a normal white house, with a normal garden in which a normal little rosebush grew that sprouted pink and white roses.
Becca’s mother, Jennifer, was a beautiful, willowy character with long chestnut hair and the same sapphire eyes as Becca.
On the 21st of April, after walking home from school together, they stopped by the river that flowed through the little town. It was early spring, the tiniest drops of water dripping slowly from the icicles that hung high on the trees. The day was chilling but the riverbanks had just begun to thaw.
Jennifer pulled Becca right to the water’s edge and murmured, “Be careful, now.” She reached into her handbag and pulled out a paper boat and said, smiling, “Honey, I’ve got something for you.”
Becca took the boat from her mother’s hand and slowly reached toward the surface of the water. She gently put the boat in the water and gave it a small push, getting her mitten wet in the process. That was the best moment of Becca’s short life.
The next day, Jennifer taught Becca to make paper boats.
Spring, summer or fall, becca would, every chance she got, make a paper boat and go to the river. Every time she would wonder where it sailed, for the river was large enough to never see her little boat again.
The next year on the 21st of April, Becca decided to go to the river after school. She, as gently as if she was handling a rare flower that could break any minute, let the boat touch the surface of the river once again. The boat sunk.
Becca was never seen again.
All that was left of her that day was a sopping wet paper boat floating just barely on the river top, surrounded by rose petals.
One evening, exactly a year later on that same day, a willowy figure sat b the river, a single white candle in her hand. As she sat there, a ghost of a smile flashed across her face that was
She smiled a watery smile, for if you looked close enough at the river, through the darkness, you could see dozens of paper boats. Large ones. Small ones. Colored ones and pure white ones. Paper boats with messages scrawled onto them. All floating on the surface of the river, illuminated by the moon.
And as she sits there by the river, illuminated by the flame of her candle, blinded by the tears she let herself cry for the first time since the death of her precious daughter, she finds a peace within herself. A peace she hasn’t felt in a year.