8/10/2019 Viola.doc
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Viola
Her skin is pure, polite and inexcusably fawed. Flawed in the
sense odamage and decay, as the ocean would erode the earth, and
fowerswould wilt and wither to their death. Yet i she was the ocean
and her mindwas a fower, surely it could only create something
beautiul. Still, do youconsere such beauty or let it take its
course! "he reckles on her nose guarded her eyes, which were
gla#ed,dynamic and still. "he power that was enclosed within them
indisputablycould not hae been peaceul as her serene exterior
suggested. Sheappeared to be a canas, with lilac and indigo
watercolours fowingwithout restraint, bleeding throughout her ery
being. $ masterpiece. Hersculpted cheek bones aligned with her two
collar bones, sitting likebranches on a cherry blossom.
$ bruise rested on the back o her hand, like a pressed iolet on
her skin% abeautiul disaster at the least. She reached up and
tightly gripped a tree
branch, pausing slightly as some bark ell through the air and
hit theearth, shattering upon impact. Her brittle ankle pushed her
up into a newiew o the world and she settled hersel onto a russet
coloured bough. $sshe studied the ground below, Viola urrowed her
brow and contemplatedhow a orest foor seems to hold the secrets to
what once was% a allentree, deer antler and a butterfy resting upon
a mossy rock. Viola would&eliked to hae been a cabbage'white% a
simple ragile winged creature,lasting only a ortnight at a time,
futtering around a labyrinth o woodlandwith seldom a thought in
mind. She watched as the butterfy switly tooko( and became lost
amongst the oliage.
Viola&s crimson hair looped and twirled oer her shoulders
and intothe bend at the bottom o her back. Her legs elegantly
poised beneath thebranch that she so delicately sat on, one might
worry that she would foataway. "he lace o her dress streamed behind
her like the eil she&d neerwear, and sat )ust aboe her stone
cold knee caps.
*t was a brisk autumnal morning and she wasn&t dressed or
the occasion.Viola had struggled to sleep or the third week in a
row ater her +thbirthday, and had taken the decision to enture into
the woods at -am,silently exploring its wonder. She was sae here,
atherine would onlynotice her absence at about ++am, as this was
when Viola would usuallyarise to bleakly great the other orphanage
sta( ' or /children&s home0 ' abad morning. Viola elt her
childhood ended when her parents died,
thereore orphanage is a more appropriate term. $ter sliding out
o thetree and a short walk to the south, she ound hersel at the
edge o a lakeaccompanied by a small brook. *t trickled and poured
but the lake was still.Viola submerged her hand into the icy water
and took a gasp o unsulliedair. She didn&t want to return to
the orphanage, in act she didn&t want toreturn to anything% she
)ust wanted it to sort o stop. Her eyes gla#ed oerand she blinked
hersel out o a stare, 1xated on the cerulean ripples onthe surace.
Viola wasn&t sure where she belonged or who she belonged to,she
wasn&t sure i she was wanted or needed and she certainly
didn&t eellike she was achieing anything. $s the blue blood
pumped throughout hereins, she ound hersel pulling on her hair% an
attempt to bring herselback to reality and snap hersel out o the
spell she was under. 2ut she
was captured.
