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Rose petals

every color in the rainbow

And I was four, and my mother was dead, and I needed him to love me.

I saw the faerie then. My room was big and airy and it had a large window that looked out toward the forest. The window was open to let air in, because it was a hot night. I was still lying frozen with my legs slightly spread, in the same position that he had left me in, and I turned my head and looked at the window and I saw a girl sitting there .She was no taller than me, but she looked much older, and she
was thin and fragile like my mother. She was wearing flowers and nothing else, just a few flowers draped decoratively over her naked skin. She was very pale and seemed to almost shimmer, sitting cross-legged on the windowsill... then she looked at me. Her eyes were a very pale blue-green and seemed to have every color in the rainbow speckling around their large pupils. She looked at me and our eyes met... Her lips didn't move but somehow her eyes spoke a volume without words. She raised her beautiful, slim hand and blew me a kiss. She was ten feet away from me but I swear I somehow *felt* the kiss, soft and cool on my forehead. A cool breeze filtered into the room, settled over my eyes. I blinked and she was gone.

(2005-08-26, updated 2005-09-29)

This is the first part of the first draft of a story I'm working on. Shitty first draft, please forgive me. If anyone has CONSTRUCTIVE input, I would be happy to hear it (i.e., don't tell me it sucks, tell me WHY it sucks, don't tell me it rocks, tell me WHY it rocks.


What you just read are excerpts from the end of Chapter One (of three projected.)

Ki would return to the same theme two-and-a-half years later, in college, writing her essay "Requiem for the Silent, A Childhood Memory"; with an age change (she is now nine), character change to the father of her BFF and playmate Leah (who is remembered as faceless) --- and any mention of the Fae is gone, replaced by starkly literal graphic passages, the tone has radically shifted into the dark, light is now ominous and threatening... black is not a rainbow color. The essay she read aloud to her class.

Those years later, her dorm room has one window, looking out on exactly the same thing. Enchanted forest. Evergreen. (But she didn't know that at 16. Right?)

Those years later, what had NOT gone were the powers of her earlier descriptions, drawing word pictures so vivid that she puts us right there into bed with her, we are also ten feet away from the Fae, on a hot night feeling a soft and cool kiss.

Speaking a volume without words. Colors too are silent, playing across the bodyforms of Spirits moving in and out of the lights. She is 16, she is timeless.

And, once again: so then, so now.