Sunlight poured through the grey, tattered curtains, enveloping the room in it's warmth, and saying good-bye to the sounds of my footprints as I made my way into the kitchen. I grabbed my faded blue towel, tied my hair up in a lazy low ponytail, and walked outside, my pale skin turning golden in the morning sun. The old, oversized t-shirt hung lifelessly off of me, the grey color almost mixing in with the color of my skin. After five minutes of silent breathing, twigs snapping, and birds chirping-from where, I do not know- I found my way to the nearby pond.
During the walk, I opened my mouth many times, trying to talk like the people in those books. The only sound that came out of it was a gagging, terrible sound. After my fifth try of doing that, I decided to shut up. The sound sounded sowrong.
My toes touched mud - cool, squishy, wet mud.The pond.I was made mostly of bones, not much fat or muscle, even though I lived life by myself for so long, so the shirt practically fell off of me when I tugged at it. My fried up sad excuse for hair blew around me, then to the pond when the wind went that way, as if saying I should jump in. The corners of my mouth lift up.
So very simple.
I slowly went into the water, toe by toe, limb by limb. Soon, I was wadding in the coolness of the pond, my hair swirling around me in a black frenzy. I rubbed at my skin. Get clean, I thought to myself.You might not have enough time to wash anymore after today.
Up goes my head, and my eyes darting back and forth, daring the object, the thing, to come out.
I shrug, jumping out of the pond and shaking like a wet dog, the droplets of water falling off of me like I'm some rain cloud. I grab my towel, wrap it around my body, and make my way back home, my hair still wet and leaving a trailof almost mud behind me.
I make a simple breakfast, getting some greens from my own little garden, and making a salad. I bit down on the leaf, hearing it crunch loudly, and more so when I start chewing. I poked at a baby tomato, playing with it on the plate with my fork. It rolled about, popping up and down, making me giggle a few times. Gosh, am I alone. . .
I've heard of a place where there are people like me, all living together and talking together, laughing and giggling like me. I've never been there though, since if I tried, I would most likely get lost.
I make a sound, something a lot like a high pitched whimper, and I jump up, immediatelygoing to the windows and doors and locking them tight. I grab my knife, holding it in front of me in the middle of the room.
There was a tugging feeling at my chest, and I look down, seeing the towel fall to the ground, and only then have I realized, I have forgotten to bring my shirt back.