Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: The Reader (04/15/10)
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TITLE: Shades of Yellow | Previous Challenge Entry
By Crystal Consonery
04/22/10 -
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Today, like every day, she is a vision of yellow, welcoming in the season. Her pale yellow sundress falling freely to her ankles, blends perfectly with the soft yellow blanket she has chosen to sit on. As I gaze at her, I see the carefree innocence of youth mixed with the subtle hints of the woman she will one day become.
This vision brings a silent tear to my eyes. The sight transfixes me, as my thoughts begin to run franticly together. I feel a sudden pressure in my chest. My throat begins to burn and I can no longer hold the vision.
Why do I do this? Why do I torture myself? Why do I allow my mind to drift back to those days; the days when nothing was as it appeared? In those days, reading was an escape, a solace, a way to avoid the pain.
For you see, I am that young girl and yet again I have allowed my thoughts to lead me back into my past. A time when I would loose myself in the lives of the characters from my books so that I would not have to face the pain of a love lost.
As I reflect, I can see it all so clearly. Why was it not apparent at the time? How could I have been so blind and unable to see how I was loosing myself? The decisions that I made that went against everything I believed. The untruths that on the surface sounded so good I refused to allow myself to listen to that little voice deep within crying and pleading with me to simply walk away.
You see that young girl is a reflection of what it looks like to loose yourself on the inside while putting on a sunny smile for the world. That young girl is the vision of one who has lost love for herself.
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I LOVED this piece!
One particular sentence struck me: 'I see the carefree innocence of youth mixed with the sublte hints of the woman she will one day be." Ugh! That hit me--in the chest--just as you described. At first, I pictured my daughter, and winced at the thought of losing her childhood innocence, but then, as I read on, I realized, I was wincing at the memory of the loss of myself, as that young girl, innocent and pure, not having any idea of what lies ahead.
For a moment, I suspected you had read some of my old diaries.
Other than what seems to be a minor typo in the last sentence of the first paragraph, I have no notes for improvement. Very well done.