The Drowsy Musings of Fragile Petals a short story by the little fools
She is a lot of girls.
Cut of a cloth weaved from innocence and timidity, she spends her hours day dreaming about the moment someone will come along and make it all begin, the moment she will be awakened. The sun’s kisses are the only touch she has ever felt. She whisks her eyelashes through the meringue air in hopes that this butterfly wing beating will make this unnamed man who only visits her imagination materialize in front of her.
On the day the girl became impatient of only having
the sun to flirt with, it dawned on her that she would never be able to recognize this apparition that visited her only in slumber unless she opened herself to looking for him. A boy who was “GoodEnoughIGuess” crossed her path and she let him in. She could not help but feel a little bit of pleasure as the dew of her little-girl-dom began to evaporate. She poured her entire self out and altered the recipe to suit the boy’s taste. Perhaps she was not becoming what she had planned, but it was nice to feel something. Anything.
His eyes
on hers brought roses to her cheeks. His attention gave her a confidence that permitted her to step out and see through unclouded eyes. He was someone to frolic with. He was someone to share with. He was someone to know. And she was truly grateful.
She often found that when they would leap
together, she would not always fall on her feet like he would. He tried to catch her at first, but when that never succeeded she accepted that there were times meant for resting. He seldom would rest with her and when he would come to help her up onto her feet it was a harsh tug up into the heat of the day which would only make her fall apart more. The boy didn’t know how to wake her up with the Snow White kiss, but that made sense because she always knew he was no Prince Charming. A wilting rose always does give off the most wonderful scent. Neither could deny that things had withered.
She could not
deny that though the boy was off to find the one he was meant for, the evidence of him was not. The original prick she had imposed to empty herself out had multiplied leaving roadmaps of their happy adventures and grey misunderstandings on display for anyone who looked close enough. Afraid someone might notice, she hid in the shadows and tried her best to blend in with the lip glossed smiles of the wallflowers.
It was as if the tangles from her past only became more matted with time. They even managed to pry into the compass she kept buried deep down. The tendrils choked it’s magnetically controlled arrows until there was no longer such a thing as North or South. Even if the one she used to dream of walked right by her, there were no eyes or ears were left to sense him.
But what is this? Simply an unintentional nap. The day had faded to evening and it was all but a nightmare. No snaking scrapes, not even a prick.
It had all felt so real that she was not quite
sure whether she ever wanted to be anything more than she was now. The unnamed man could stay an old idealistic dream. She would stay a bud. And the sun could even keep it’s kisses because she really just wanted to run indoors.