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 Posted: Wed Jun 04, 2008 3:36 pm
Beach Party Anyone?
It's beach time! Chailyn heads to the beach now that she's feeling a bit more herself and runs into a friend (or how ever many join in!).
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Posted: Fri Jun 06, 2008 3:31 pm
Can This Be Real?Anemone Why do things always have to be so complicated? Chailyn's awake- I should be happy. I should be showering her and the other children in attention and gifts. I should be locked into this happy optimistic jumping for joy state of mind. Something feels wrong though.
I tried to be the best mother I could be while she was asleep, though I doubt I did a wonderful job of it. Balancing one child who is locked in a state of sleep with eight other children- it's not easy. So maybe it's guilt talking. During that time as much as I tried to be there for all of them, my mind was focused on Chailyn. I was plagued by dreams of her awaking for it to only be her ghost saying good-bye, of her dying, of so many awful things.
When she did wake- I couldn't bring myself to hope it was real. Even now that she's been awake and seems healthy, I still find myself wondering if this is real- if she is real. She's changed- not just grown up physically but her attitude seems to flicker. For the first week, she was anything but herself- moody, irritable, sad. Now she's mostly herself again, she appears happy and kind but still very much isolated.
I thought if I suggested she went to see friends, she would be happy. Instead she became more moody and isolated herself in her room. I don't understand why she doesn't want to see them. I'm not a very good example but even though I don't see everyone- I do want to. I've just been in a whirlwind of thoughts and going through motions rather than actually living. I sometimes wonder if she's doing the same- or if she changed when she was- taken? I still don't really understand what happened but taken seems to be the most fitting word.
If she's really become this moody, irritable adolescent I don't think I'll get through the teenage years. And if she hasn't, I wonder what's gotten into her. I mean she yelled at me for buying her new clothes! In her eyes, I saw the logical little girl knowing that it was ridiculous but something about her was off. She seemed so angry. I even caught her yelling at her reflection one morning. What happened to her when she was sleeping? Does that have anything to do with her behavior now? Or is something else going on? Is anything going on?
Can any of this be real? I never thought she'd be so different when she grew. So many things have changed- her hair is more brown than before but her stomach symbol is gone. Her attitude is like flipping a coin- two sides that you can't seem to predict. Maybe it's just a phase? I can hope for now.
Sincerely,
Anemone
Anemone sighed, standing up and picking up the tome. She carried it to Chailyn's room, setting it back down on the desk. Her mind wandered- she should really call someone, she could use a friend. And though it might help if they had a child, even moreso a Tale, really it would just be good for her to be anyone she trusted.
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Posted: Tue Dec 16, 2008 5:14 am
I Never Really Meant Goodbye
Nalira's been watching over Chailyn without her knowing it, until now.
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Posted: Thu Jan 15, 2009 10:45 pm
Plays En Pointe
For once, at least lately, she felt wholly like herself. No nightmares plaguing her sleep or odd looking dopplegangers bullying her into doing things she didn't want to. And while the feeling lasted, she wasn't appearing much like the good natured child she'd been. She blamed it solely on the book she was told to read for school. The stupid, pointless, exceedingly dull book that had once again been tossed across the room. It was supposed to be some sort of classic, a tragedy penned by some guy whose name was undoubtly written on the cover. Then again she hadn't been paying attention in school. The teacher had said they usually wouldn't read it for quite a few more years but then the small group of six or so adolescents had been considered mature enough to read it now. And honestly, she was just glad she hadn't been in the group that had to read Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring because when the list of books had been posted, she'd looked at each one and nearly fallen asleep trying to read the acclaimed masterpiece by J.R.R. Tolkein. In fact, that book checked out from the library before she'd been assigned another was currently "hiding" under her bed in fear of being dropped again.
Now however she was glaring at the stupid red cover because she felt like everyone in the book, which was really a play, was a complete moron. She supposed she should've found it romantic or something but then those feelings hadn't quite ever been exposed to her especially without the memories of her once-father Michael. She sighed, climbing down from her bed and fingering the cover wondering if there was any way to get out of reading it. Romeo and Juliet just wasn't her cup of tea. It really didn't help that Juliet was only two years older than her, well almost. And she certainly wouldn't marry someone she'd only just met. She sighed, climbing to her feet and glancing at her pointe slippers before glancing at her battered toes. They looked yellow, healing bruises caressing the skin at just behind her toes except the tips which were red with aggravation or rusted brown with dried blood she hadn't managed to clean off. She walked over to the slippers, pulling them down from the wooden hook on the wall and running her fingers over the pale pink fabric. She liked ballet well enough but different movements came naturally to her but her teacher and mother had said she was still a bit young for any type of belly dancing or hip hop though they were willing to let her try out jazz.
Really things weren't working out as she'd like, when she was enough like herself to notice. She didn't know what had happened to all her friends and sometimes she still really didn't want to reach out to find out how much they'd changed. She didn't want more reminders that she'd grown and yet always be little compared to most of her friends. She knew if she'd grown they must've too. And yet she really needed a friend who could be around. She was ecstatic to know that Nalira was keeping an eye on her but heartbroken that her friend wouldn't be coming back to live as her sister. She hadn't seen much of Lance since the night she'd snuck out to tell him she'd grown and confide in him about her dreams. He'd mentioned leaving for a time but she wasn't sure if he had yet, or if he had if he was still gone or had returned. And it would've been hard to find out he was still gone being the only friend she though she could always count on. She'd seen Armel but they were more acquaintances and she had yet to reach out to Donny, Adonis. She wondered sometimes if he'd still mind her calling him Donny, he must've of grown since she'd seen him last or maybe he'd grown already when she had- the time of unconsciousness and capture too fuzzy to remember. She was afraid her moodiness would end up making him angry with her, so she made no move to let him know she was awake, alive, grown, changed.
With a huff of irritation that she was being so cowardly, she went back to Romeo & Juliet. If she took anything from the book it should've been that being a coward only got one in more trouble. Then again she ended up quickly becoming bored with it again and let it fall to the floor, waltzing out of the room to ask her mother if their was a movie version of the stupid play. Maybe it would be more interesting.
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Posted: Sat Jan 17, 2009 9:22 pm
Ready MaybeThe music began soft and haunting, building like breath and heartbeat. Pale satin pink slid across the abused honey glazed white oak floorboards. Subtly elongated toes pointed at a knot in the floor, the sole of her foot pressing against the paper thin wooden tongue that allowed her to change blocks amongst slippers that endlessly fell apart. She often wondered just how her mother or any parent afforded such a high priced, at least to her sixty-four dollars seemed expensive, item knowing it would often need to be replaced after one practice or performance.
She shifted her mind back to the steady thrum, a heart beating against her own as she reached to close her mind. She left the notes guide her movements, arms spread out like wings dipping slightly at the elbow while her hands curving gracefully as her fingers slanted down at a forty-five degree angle. She fought to straighten her arms without making her hands follow that same line, finding the thought of wings made it easier for her to remember to include her hands but the form often threw her balance. She always forgot her hands and she knew if her teacher was allowed to whack her with the meter stick she often carried she wouldn't had red welts across the tops of her hands and under her elbow, possibly against her back when she grew frustrated and began to slouch forward forgetting to straighten her back like their was a string pulling up her core. Yet she never forgot to point her toes, to curve or straighten her legs. She felt her body shutter as she attempted a pirouette, her eyes filtering to the side to check her arms and distracting her focus.
"Find one point of interest, child. Fix your gaze as you turn your head so you always come back to that one spot."
Madame...she blinked, her teacher's name escaping her but registering her voice in her head. With a shake of her head, she drifted from the monotone advice and repeating ballet movements the french words escaping her as she forgot what routine she was supposed to be learning. Instead she shuffled over to the stereo and restarted the song she'd been given. She glanced down at her slippers, ribbons tied around her ankles and wrapping up to her calves hidden beneath loose black pants that would never be allowed in class. Even the tank top she wore instead of a leotard would probably have gotten her reprimand, extra "homework", and a note sent home to her mother to make sure "the child wear proper attire to all of my classes, whether it be a mere lecture or practice, even rehearsals and eventual dress rehearsal should first be attended with the intention of working."
Shaking her brown hair, she pushed everything out and just let the music release what she wanted to be allowed to do. She was hindered slightly by her pointe slippers finding the exotic movements that came naturally to her unfitting of raising upon her toes. She reluctantly stopped the song, sitting down to untie her slippers so she could try a different way of dancing. She let her mind drift, deciding after "practice" she would try for the first time to reach out intentionally to someone though she didn't yet know who. Prying off her slippers, she checked to make sure she wasn't bleeding and as she had barely done any actual pointe work she wasn't. She hopped up onto her feet, stretching out what felt still like gangly limbs before again restarting the song.
"Feels like I've gone off the side of a mountain
Couldn't be sure I was even alive
Fallen from the icy heights
Landed with a broken cry
In this valley of shadow and sigh
Can you save me, baby?"
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Posted: Thu Jan 22, 2009 1:16 am
Not RealityShe was collapsed on her bed, flopped haphazardly over ruled notebook paper that was crinkling under her weight. One hand cradled a pen, black ink pressing against her cheek, while the other looked frozen in the act of turning the page of a textbook. A song lilted through the room infecting her dreams with it's lyrics causing her to continuously mumble about "feedom" and "ages".
She kept kicking the wall with her heels causing the skin to be scratched. She worked her bottom lip with her teeth, unconsciously tearing off skin and allowing blood to drop into her lap. She didn't give the staining red color a second thought against the white dress unable to give a damn. It wasn't right, not in the least that she be here. It wasn't her place, never had been and never would be. And that would've made her happy but apparently her opinion meant little. She felt like a victim, a trapped animal that was continuously subjected to "cooing" that she was "such a pretty thing". Thus she was reduced to being a captive, a trophy that was supposed to be viewed and flaunted. And to think, it was the kind of life her sister dreamed of.
Or at least Kachina dreamed of the prince. Whereas she dreamed of flying. Something she'd given up trying to explain to anyone, too tired of hearing "But dear, you aren't a bird. You don't have wings! How could you possibly fly?" Then they would bring up that it was enough to be wanted and love, saying it never mattered if she returned it. She was going to be a princess, what could be wrong with that? She often didn't have the heart to correct them, let them live in such blissful ignorance if they could.
She thought more and more of running away but found herself under strict watch. She pondered switching places with her twin but their attitudes were so vastly different they'd never pull it off. They resembled each other well enough, most of the time, or had when they were young and now they were changing. Kachina's hair was becoming more vibrantly red, while her own dulled to a sweet brown. Their eyes remained purple though her own seemed to becoming more lively or had until she'd be given to the prince, now they were dull. Kachina's eyes were quickly becoming cold like purple fire and she was surprised they hadn't turned green with envy yet.
There should've been room in her heart for the prince but instead she was grasping ferociously at the threads that had once connected her to her sister. She wanted to be little again when her sister wasn't so enraptured with becoming a princess that she cared. It seemed too late now. She was trapped, half a person without her twin and being driven into arms she had no desire to be in. She didn't need him, not when she had her sister. But then she didn't have her sister much anymore, a wedge between them she wasn't sure her sister could ever forget let alone forgive.
She stirred, managing to strike a black line crossed her cheek upon lifting her head. She groaned and dropped the pen to wipe the sleep from her eyes. The dream dropped to the back of her mind, looking down at her science textbook with a look of disgust. She shivered against the cold night air invading the minimal warmth wrapped around her body. The reminder of winter biting into her skin caused her to vow to move to a warm place when she got old enough, much as she liked snow she was hating the cold. Not as much as she hated science but enough to want to avoid her. A glance at her worksheet revealed she'd only answered two questions and she held back the thought of blowing a raspberry at the paper like it would somehow decide to fill itself out.
In the end, she simply began singing along to the song playing on her stereo while scribbling doodles on the science note she'd taken.
"With one light on in one room, I know you're up when I get home
With one small step upon the stair, I know your look when I get there
If you were a king up there on your throne, would you be wise enough to let me go
For this queen you think you own
Wants to be a hunter agin, wants to see the world alone again
To take a chance on life again, so let me go"
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Posted: Sat Jan 24, 2009 2:44 am
Be My AnchorHer thumb curved perfectly under her cheek, tip resting against the corner of her mouth as she released a breath and the string. She frowned, brows knitting in confusion, when the arrow imbedded into the white ring outside of the red target. She sighed wondering if she was really that rusty, it should've been easy to hit a stationary target. She would admit her muscles weren't quite used to the strain of holding the bow taut while she aimed but she didn't think it should have become a chore to hit that stupid, evading red dot. She huffed sounding evermore like a child that was just learning. "Stupid target," she muttered to herself. She pressed her lips together in attempt not to laugh at herself, she sounded like a child who had just stubbed their toe on a cabinet or couch- always swearing up and down that the object moved, they couldn't possibly be a klutz. It proved useless as images flittered through her mind of her children doing just that and laughter spilled out, forcing her to squat down before she fell over.
"What's so funny?" the Tale asked, coming up behind her mother. She giggled as Anemone jumped to her feet and promptly landed (rather gracefully) on the ground. She rocked on the balls of her feet, clasping her hands behind her back and trying not to laugh harder. It was a rare treat to see her mother fall over but Chailyn did an admirable job of not laughing outright, managing to stiffled her giggles. She watched her mother climb to her feet, a teasing glare directed at her.
"What are you doing out here, Chai? I thought you said you had homework." She peered down at her daughter, wanting nothing more than to encourage her presence but afraid the Tale wasn't there to accompany her. She waited patiently, holding onto the ancient bow wondering if just maybe she would get her little girl back today- if Chailyn would want to spend time with her. Absently brushing a stray strand of brown hair from her face, she began to fidget mimicking her daughter's earlier motion of rocking on the balls of her feet.
"I'mnotverygoodatscienesoIwashopingyouwouldn'tmindifmaybeItookabreakandhungoutwithyou?" the girl asked in one long, lowering breath of sound. She nibbled on the inside of her cheek, looking sheepish and waiting to be told that homework was more important. She shifted her weight, hands falling to her side and beginning to play with the edge of her tee as she wished her hair was loose so she could twirl it like she did whenever she was nervous. She felt her mother smooth out a hand over the top of her hand and began to deflate. She was probably going to be kissed and sent back inside. She opened her mouth to protest but the words died when her mother's voice broke through.
"I'd like that, Chai. Do you want to learn archery?" she asked, trying not to rush forward and crush her daughter in a hug. She'd been so worried lately that she was losing the Tale, who was abnormally moody and pulling away from the family. She had it on fairly good authority that since growing the Tale hadn't gone out of her way to met up with old friends, save sneaking out to talk to Lance (which she hadn't been punished for, as Ane had been unable to bring herself to do so) and then running into Armel at the beach. It was rather worrisome that her used to be unusually friendly had yet to reach out at all. She had expected the Tale to be adamant about meeting Donny or Lance, especially Nalira. To her surprise, Chailyn hadn't asked to meet any of her old friends. She hadn't even suggested it and when it was brought up, she always shot the idea down. Though Ane did have a suspicion that Chailyn was almost ready to meet an old friend, and until then she would just be happy that the girl wanted to hang out with her.
"Is it hard?"
"It does take practice but it's a rather easy sport to learn," Anemone said after carefully considering it. If anything was hard, it was hitting the target. It seemed easy to learn how to stand, how to nock the arrow, how far to pull the string, how to steady the hand by anchoring to the cheek or chin. She doubted Chailyn would have much trouble with it, as long as she used a proper bow that wasn't strung too tight.
Chailyn looked thoughtful before nodding, a grin settling over her face as she looked up at her mother. She felt relieved not to have to go back to studying science and the thought of spending time with her mother made her feel as though she was a child again, safe and endlessly caught up in her mother's arms. Of course, she had no clue about archery. It looked easy enough- pull the string back and fire. She watched intensely, mapping out her mother's every movement as Anemone picked up the bow making sure to point it at the ground.
With a free hand, she picked an arrow out of the ground and placed the nock against the string- forefinger resting on top while her next two fingers held it firmly in place. She lifted it up in a fluid motion and pulled the string back, "To make sure your hand is steady, you rest your thumb against your chin or cheek." Her voice was soft, concentrating on the target as she released a breath and let the arrow fly. She inhaled sharply as it became imbedded just on the outside of the red ring, "I'm a bit rusty."
Holding out her hand for her daughter, Anemone helped position the girl into a common stance with one foot slightly forward. She knew the bow was too big for Chailyn but being as she only had a few for her own frame, it was the best she could do. She directed the left hand to hold onto the center of the curved wood making sure to point the bow down as she instructed the Tale to pick up an arrow by it's fletching. She pointed at the nock of the arrow, guiding the adolescent's hand so that the notch fit over the string. "Now, you raise the bow holding it straight up and down." She watched as Chailyn nodded her head, pulling the string back as far as she could (which was very little) before letting the arrow fly. She bit her bottom lip as her daughter pouted, staring at the arrow that had pretty much just fallen into the ground. "That happens to everyone the first time, Chai," she encouraged.
* * * * *
It didn't take long for Chailyn to grow tired, arms unused to the constant strain of pulling back a taut string of a bow. She started to waver, arms shaking as muscles tensed and relaxed in spasms, the last arrow firing into the ground as weary rolled over her body. She sighed, flopping down onto the ground and laying back in the dead grass. It might have not been snowing, it may have been warm enough to be outside without a coat, but it was hardly spring. The ground was hard and uneven, poking into her back and prodding her bones uncomfortably. "I don't think I'm very good at archery, Mo-mother." She choked briefly, finding the word felt weird coming out of her mouth and seemed to lodge in her throat. It hit rather suddenly that she hadn't confided in her mother, in fact she hadn't spoken much to her, or even called her "mother" outloud. She felt guilt ram into her like a two-thousand ton frigate closing her eyes and sighing.
Anemone was standing with a stunned look on her face, having forgotten what it was like to hear the Tale call her "Mother" or "Mom" or anything. She supposed it was her own fault, she'd been trying to give the girl space and privacy to deal with the many emotions she seemed to have bottled up. She wanted very much to make Chailyn talk to her but doubted it would do any good in the long run. Dropping the quiver of arrows she had been holding, she kneeled down behind Chailyn, easing her head into her lap and dropping a kiss on the child's forehead. "You haven't called me that for awhile, it's nice to hear," she murmured. She held her breath, hoping Chailyn's recent temper would now flare and sever the connection that was already fraying slightly since the Tale's growth.
"I'm sorry," she replied. She didn't know what else she could say. It was true, though it shouldn't have been.
"It's all right, you've been through a lot, haven't you?" she smiled. It would do no good to reprimand her now. "But from now on, you should remember I am always here for you. If you're uncertain or drifting, I'll be your anchor," she furrowed her brow slightly, "I think that's the corniest thing I've ever said!" she laughed and was soon joined by Chailyn's laughter as the Tale sat up and hugged her mother. Everything would be ok if she held onto her mother- she was sure of it.
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2009 8:56 pm
Reflecting What I Thought I Saw
"They tell you where you need to go, they tell you when you need to leave, they tell you what you need to know, they tell you who you need to be ; but everything inside you, knows there's more than what you've heard, there's so much more than empty conversations, filled with empty words..."
She was standing, the music rushing through her head like a wave of revelation, one word throbbing through her veins like a malcontent heartbeat, mysteries. She shook her brown hair back, face shining with beads of sweat as her chest rose and fell, trying to calm her racing heart. The edges of reality seemed to yellow, curling inward, images painted before her purple eyes of dreams, nightmares, that recurred nightly. Only the mirror, with her reflection staring back at her, remained real as reality stripped away.
She could feel the wind. It was cool, wrapping around her torso like a friendly snake, tendrils of air slinking through the cloth of her tee. The smell of warm stones and pomegranates skipping through the room as raindrops clung lazily to flapping linen curtains too soaked to hold anymore pebbles of water. The ornate windowless building bleeding at the edges, colors mixing with water and fading into blobs of once was. It was both a comfort and hurtful.
That place that contained her dreams, nightmares, blurring into nothing that signified it was all in her head. There was no Kachina, no girl who looked like her with different colored eyes, green burning intense hatred like a wick charred black by hungry flames. There was no duty to fulfill, no master to find, no purpose to life, no missing piece that gnawed at her heart with fanged serrated teeth that pricked and prodded and made her hurt, bleed. There was no empty space that needed to be filled because it scraped against the dull edges of her ribcage continuously until it bruised, marred, scarred a groove that reminded her of the hole.
A hole, empty, all of it was empty. Absolutely none of it mattered at all; it was just a collection of not real images, a satchel filled with not substantial words, a canvas of not meaningful feelings. It was all fake, lies presented in vivid pink and purple and red, gray clouds raining gray raindrops landing on gray. It was a colorless void, black, without an object to make it whole. It was eternally broken blackness that could not be filled because there was no bottom, no sides, no glass window to hold in life.
It forced her to her knees, jarring skin against rough carpet, because it hurt. The scar broke open, blisters erupting around the jagged edges of red flesh, singular threads of scarlet throbbing outward. A bloody path trailing through her chest reaching for a wholeness. It was riddled with finger prints, tips pressed down to stop, stop, stop the pain coming from the aching throb that pushed, beat, pounded against the bars of her chest with a ferocious repetitive thump. She felt the breath, life, forced out and she couldn't find air. It was driven out of reality, not real, while the painting's wind teased her lips with a delicate caress that made her gasp to find nothing. And it was satisfying to feel the void, to feel the pain, because it was real- it was real.
Cold pulsed into her mouth, life grasped her cheeks forcing dreams away. She looked up to see a curtain of hair pierced by purple reflected back at her, mouth open and pulling in breath. In, out. And then it was green staring into purple, an iris of burning intense hatred like a wick charred black by hungry flames. A crack, the sound like a bullet forced from a gun's muzzle, a slender crevice spreading along the surface of sleek silver glass. A blossoming rift of not real staring back at her and separating her in two- not real side by side with real. Real.
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2009 8:57 pm
Shoe Shopping: It's An ArtSummer was a dull affair. What should've been outings with friends, trips to the nearby beach, endless phone calls and text messages, back and forth e-mails and instant messages, adventures in the malls. Instead it was more like a self-imposed prison sentence; one spent reading books, doing over summer homework for both school and dance, spending minute time with siblings, and invading her mother's space like she was quite afraid she would run away. So it was really surprising that instead of sending the girl off to do something with anyone, Anemone decided to take her shoe shopping.
Chailyn had dejectedly given in, a pout on her face, with her eyes drawn down before sulking off to change. She ended up more or less being forced into a East Side purple colored cotton peasant top blouse with dark denim shorts and Mojito Wedges (with complimentary purple and red accents over the toes). She honestly couldn't say she was that interested in fashion, not like her new slightly self-confident mother. She really wasn't sure what to think of Anemone outfit, a turquoise silk tank top with an empire waist accented by braided trim and fluttering ruffles falling from the bodice much like a flower's petals with white shorts that made her look like she had legs that went on for miles and yellow Banana Split Heels. Truthfully, she looked quite pretty but it was so odd to see her dolled up for going to the mall.
"Do we really need more shoes?" her voice was hopeful, having not fallen into the fashion bug stage. She was dropping hints about heading to the bookstore instead. Although she hardly needed another book to bury her nose in, one of the few rather flimsy excuses she'd come up with to continue avoiding everyone she could.
"You could use some sandals and maybe a few wedges so when you eventually want high heels you don't break your neck. Besides, we could always stop by a ballet supply store to pick up another pair of pointe shoes and lamb's wool, do you need tape?" the woman guided and then twisted into distraction. It was much easier to offhandedly present an idle compromise than try arguing. She doubted the Tale would ever really want to shop for shoes or clothes or anything, not if she didn't snap out of her imposed seclusion. She had yet to get a proper explanation for it out of the girl, though she often tried.
A meek nod was all she got for her trouble, "All right." She shuffled her feet following her mother out the door and far more morose than she should've been. She just couldn't seem to come to terms with either the growth or the dreams she continued to have. The more she thought about reaching out the more she ended up staying in her room. She just hoped her excuse for homework would hold out a little longer before her mother took to dialing numbers and forcing her to have a play date, gods forbid her mother would think of wanting her to have a real date.
I am, I'm too fabu-lous
I'm so, fierce that it's so nuts
I live, to be model thin
Dress me, I'm your manne-quin
Medici Wedges, Fireworks Sandals, Know the Ropes Espadrilles, Spartacus Sandals, Black Sand Beach Wedges, El Dorado Sandals all went into the chair beside Chailyn. She looked up momentary, her fingers twisted in her brown hair to fix the up-do that was leaning further and further right. With a lung full of air, she managed to force a smile onto her face, the song throbbing through the store actually (though she wouldn't admit it) making her want to bounce around just a bit. She tried not to wrinkle her noses up when a woman passed by wearing something called Oh Snap! Sandals, bursting out in giggles when her mother's whisper funneled into her ear ("Someone's stuck in the eighties waiting for legwarmers to come back into style!").
Anemone smiled triumphantly, at the very least she got her daughter to smile and laugh. Obviously those sandals weren't as bad at the Naughty Monkey 'On the Fringe' Sandal, which were probably the second ugliest behind the Ash 'Miami' Sandal she'd seen ("Is someone missing the skiing season? Or are they just afraid of taking them off to go surfing...). She had to admit there were a lot of "unique" styles around, ones she avoided. She'd only tried on an Ash 'Diamond' Wedge Sandal but while she thought it looked good, the Banana Split Heels were still the coolest shoe she'd seen. Even she had to admit that, as much as she wanted to be a bit more fashion forward, she still had trouble really getting into it. It was all she could do not to go back to burying herself in t-shirts, shorts, and tennis shoes.
J'adore Vivienne la vie et moi,
Gucci, Fendi et Prada,
Valentino, Armani too,
Merde I love them Jimmy Choo
An hour later, ipod downloaded with Lady Gaga's "Fashion" and headphones hooked over her ears, the Tale was dancing around in her new Medici Wedges while swinging a bag around containing her new Know the Ropes Espadrilles and Steve Madden 'Quinne' Wedge Sandal in white. She was bouncing on her feet, hips swinging from side to side, while she eyed the blue and lilac suede Steve Madden 'Trufle' Platform Sandals her mother was trying on. She had to admit if they came in turquoise they'd be an excellent match for her top.
She blanched, stopping dead in her movement, breathing out a quiet "Oh gods!". She really, really didn't want to become obsessed with fashion. And yet it was so easy, a little piece of her pointing out things she couldn't have cared less about. (That top does not go with that skirt! That dress looks more like a tablecloth!) She sighed, really it was a fair point. She turned her eyes away from the passerbys and shifted through isles of shoes, coming back with a pair of Fergie 'Quiana' Wedge Sandals, Kelsi Dagger Cosa Sandals, Guess 'Credenza' Sandals, and Guess 'Tess' Sandals for her mother to try on. She tried to hide the Lovely People 'Scorpio' Sandals she'd find in multi-pink.
"The multi-brown ones would look better," Anemone smirked softly at her daughter's dreadful attempt at secrecy. She adjusted the straps around her ankle deciding that she really should have a gold pair of sandals. She placed the rest of the boxes on the floor deciding that the gold sandals and two pairs of Pink Studio 'London' Wedge Sandals, one in cinnamon and one in steel blue, would be enough. "Do you want to get out of here, Chai? Or do you want to peek around some more?" she teased the Tale gently.
"I'll wait outside!" she blurted out, grabbing her bag and rushing out. She was going to demand she be allowed to peruse the book store now. She deserved a book and at least one CD for her- discomfort.
Fashion, put it all on me
Don't you want to see these clothes on me
Fashion, put it all on me
I am anyone you want me to be
Fashion, put it all on me
Don't you want to see these clothes on me
Fashion, put it all on me
I am anyone you want me to be
Anemone held tight to Chailyn's hand as the girl lip-synced to the track on her ipod. She couldn't hide the smile threatening to break over her lips at the sight. It seemed like it'd been ages since her daughter had been so carefree as to bounce through life. She wondered if a monthly shoe shopping (or at least shopping spree at the mall) would help keep her to happy. She swung her arm, laughing at the bemused giggle falling from her child's mouth. It was music lovelier than any song, to hear her giggle like she was a toddler again.
The dam that had held Chailyn within it's grasp seemed to have sprung a leak and Anemone was determined to enjoy it if she couldn't keep it around. She smiled to herself, hoping this happiness would stick, before tugging the Tale off into the bookstore. It was teeming with people, even on a Wednesday, that made her hold onto the girl's hand more tightly than she usually would have. She had to remind herself that it was unlikely Chailyn would let anyone else grab her hand before she let her wander off by herself, taking hold of the bags and deciding to grab something to drink for both of them.
Chailyn weaved through the people, glancing behind once to make sure her mother wasn't following, before swerving away from the juvenile and children's section. She hadn't found anything in that section for ages, only mildly glancing at Harry Potter, since discovering a section dedicated to dreams. She had yet to find anything useful for them and wasn't ready to be caught trying to decipher them. It never failed to disappoint her that the dreams she had never seemed to fit within the books she found. She would flip through looking up certain things she remembered before sighing and slamming it back on the shelf.
She, defeated, returned back to the juvenile section running her fingers over title after title. None of them seemed interesting to her mind and she ended up pulling one out at random. Uglies, "What a lovely title," she mumbled half-heartedly. It sounded like it might be good enough to take her mind off things. She fumbled her way back through the crowd, not even the frivolous song about fashion managing to entirely lift her disappointed, but she managed to paste a believable smile on her face for her mother.
I need, some new stile-ttos
Can't walk, down the street in those
You are, who you wear it's true
A girl's just as hot as the shoe she choose
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Posted: Thu Jun 04, 2009 8:20 pm
A Rose Must Be NamedChailyn I don't even have to close my eyes to see her anymore. I can't think of her as me, no matter how many times in dreaming she says that we are the same. I'm afraid if I do, I'll lose what little is left of my mind. I don't know if it speaks of logic or unbalance, that I've started thinking of my dream's doppleganger as someone named Kachina.
She seems pleased that I've named her, even more so with the name I've given her, but I don't know where it came from or what it means. At least she isn't sneering. She calls me "Kaida" in a really snotty high-pitched voice when I try to question her. She won't tell me why, or what it means. Is it possible to hate yourself so much? I really don't like her but she's me, eventually. Something. Argh, it doesn't make any damn sense!
I don't want to listen to her. I don't want to see her. I don't even want to sleep anymore. I sit up so late into the night staring at the ceiling until my eyes close. Even before then I think she's sitting on the edge of my bed waiting to talk to me when I fall asleep. I know she isn't, I know I don't really see her, maybe. It's just my imagination, or my reflection, or something. I just want to be able to close my eyes and sleep without seeing me, her, us, anything. I wonder if losing my mind wouldn't be best, to just not care.
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Posted: Sun Jun 07, 2009 10:03 pm
Sanctuary
It was greener than the last time she'd visited, dead things culled out to make way for the living, making for less hesitation. A gentle touch against her pink and brown vertical messenger bag, fingers splayed out in a large circle, helped her calm her breathing. Wrong, whispered against her ears in her mother's voice, because it was wrong to sneak into someone's yard without asking for an invitation. But then she was in need so surely if she had asked, she'd have been granted permission but then her mother would know. She needed a place to find peace, a new one now that her mother had told her to stop hiding in her room. A place where her mother didn't know she was and couldn't tell her to stop visiting.
There were very few places she could think of going. One called to her more than the others, a coaxing stroke of care along her cheek, a place she hadn't visited in what seemed like ages. A koi pond built by hand, a handprint left in a stone with her name scrawled on it as the cement dried, with her best friend. A place she had helped create that she could find sanctuary in. One where, hopefully, no one would find her. She had a need to be alone, to think and forget, that she couldn't fulfill around others. She needed to be free to choose silence over people without wearing out her welcome. No one would see her enter, she was sure, and so no one would care or bother her or tell her mother.
She held her breath as she slipped away, pretending to walk on by, before walking sideways to skirt into the back yard. There was the hint of a path trailing inward and she took notice of it for all of a minute before moving off of it, she didn't want to be so easily found if she was going to be caught. She threaded her way parallel to the path and then headed towards the koi pond, skirting past a rosebush that would not die and an overgrown plant of some kind that promised to hide her, not finding a hint of ease until she could still the dark glassy water reflecting the hot sun. And as she moved closer she could start to make out the colors of the fish; red, orange, white, yellow, a rainbow of scales and fins.
Sinking down on a large rock, she found herself encased by neutral plants that couldn't care less if she hid herself away just a little longer. She let her fingers dip into the cool water, laughing as a fish mistook it for a treat and tried to sucked it down. It let go reluctantly and she pulled her hand back. She leaned forward, letting her purple eyes get lost in the soft ripples as a breeze slid through. Yes, this place would work wonderfully for her sanctuary.
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