Shades of Shadows

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
She's always alone, black and white and gray, and that's how she'll always stay.

Submitted: November 23, 2007

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Submitted: November 23, 2007



Shades of Shadow

She looked at herself in the mirror. Her pale skin almost glowed unhealthily in the dark bathroom, shades drawn. Her ebony hair fell around her shoulders and down to her knees like a waterfall of ravens. Her face looked sad and alone, possibly even sallow. Her gray eyes looked even worse. Dead, forgotten, lost, hurt. She always wore black, white, or some shade there of, always plain and unrevealing. Over all she looked like a character from a black and white story. A story where the heroine is afraid and lost and alone, shunned and hated and betrayed. A story where the world is all pain and loss and suffering.

Her sister Rosalie wasn’t like that at all. She had curly blonde hair, not at all like her sister’s straight, black hair. She also had tanned skin, lively blue eyes, and rosy cheeks. She laughs at all the right moments, smiled to the people she needed to smile to, went out the boys that would get her the most attention. Rosalie was all in all, a prodigy.  

Of course because of her strange looks and silence, people teased her. Not just teased, harassed. And this lead to her doing anything, anything to be normal. A whisper, “She looks so bad in color…” “She should really cut her hair…” “What’s up with her skin? It looks unnatural…” She would change it. It never helped through, it just scared people away, and she would revert back to how it was originally. Any people who tried to reach out to her, any one who could be her friend, she sunned, and stayed alone. So in the end, she stayed her quiet, reclusive self in her black and white reality.

And so life went on. Her naturally pale skin continued to look sallow, her naturally jet hair continued to fall like a waterfall of crows down to her knees, her naturally pale face continued to look sorrowful and alone, her naturally gray eyes continued to look dead, hurt, and lost, her naturally plain clothes continued to be only black and white, and her natural state of being continued to be alone. Nothing had changed, she still didn’t speak to people, and people still didn’t speak to her. But one day, as she was walking down the hall, a girl walked up to her and asked, “Hey freak, don’t you ever say anything?” She turned to look at her. “Not anymore.” And Helena turned and walked away.

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