by The Swayer
Dedicated to an anonymous friend
Her colorful array of acrylics and paintbrushes offered the escape the outside world failed to. Her black and white keynotes played sweet sounds, boasting of the melodies it could reverberate. Her fingers always dancing expertly, accompanied by her strong voice. They made the perfect duo. Song lyrics always running through her head, but escaping the moment she tried translating them into ink. Nonethless, she had learnt to play out of instinct and every visitor she had always left in wonder.
Her hair, a brood of messy fire-orange was her finest quality, and her downfall. Her skin, being too delicate to long exposure of the outside world. Like the many glass trinquets she possessed, she was easily breakable. That too, she had overcome with confidence, showing herself she couldn't be caged. She had been born a red-head, with skin almost transluscent. She enjoyed looking at herself in the mirror, pinching her skin, and watching it turn all kinds of colors. On Halloween she would stand at the door of the house and pass out candy to the little witches and devils, her skin ghostly white. It was the only day of the year that she belonged in the outside world.
Now she stood staring out the window, watching her sister throw a ball up at the sky and catching it. Something within herself yearned to be outside with her. She went to one of her woodshelves, picked a record and put it on the vinyl player. As music filled her world she danced her worries away, all the while looking out that window.