Young Writers Society

The road stretched on like a slithering snake. It was a road made of brown dirt, packed down by years of trudging feet. Along the sides of the road bluish grass waved in the slight breeze, blowing into the road every few seconds. Beyond the grass was nothing, only more almost blue plants. This went on for a long time, until finally meeting with the dull blue sky. It was, in all, a very plain view.

Alice stood motionless in the middle of the road; her arms were held out to her sides to catch the small wind. Blonde hair covered one of her closed eyes and fell down to the middle of her back. She had a very small, pointed nose and her lips resembled those of a porcelain doll. In fact, everything about her thin, pale body resembled a porcelain doll. To an observer, it would seem like the barely blowing wind was enough to carry the child away.

Some time passed while Alice stood this way. It could have been minutes or hours, though Alice did not know or care. Finally, perhaps from fatigue, her arms fell down to her sides and hung there limply. Each of her delicate fingers was curled into a fist, and her small nails dug into the flesh of her hand. She bit her bottom lip and slowly, very slowly, opened her eyelids to reveal eyes that were as dull a blue as the sky. For a little while longer Alice stood, then her left leg swung forward and her miniature foot landed on the dirt. Farther along the road, two tiny shapes showed the place where she had left her shiny black shoes.

By the time the shoes could be seen clearly and no longer appeared to be motionless ants, the sun had sunk lower and was directly behind Alice. Half of it had already disappeared behind the horizon, and the remaining half cast rays of light that illuminated Alice’s hair. Each strand shone like gold as it flew about the girl’s face.

The shoes were suddenly in front of Alice, and she slipped her feet into them just as the last sliver of light began to fade. As she walked, the curve of the earth had moved just enough for a white house to be visible. A shiver ran through Alice’s frail body as she stared up at the house. Before long, she was standing in front of the door, with her hand resting on the wooden frame. Quietly, she peeled away a piece of paint and watched as it fell like a feather. One small finger stroked the graying wood that was quickly replacing the white all over the house. The door was already completely grey from the many nights that the child had stood outside freeing the wood from its painted prison.

The moon began to find its way into the now completely black sky, and each star shone like a beacon of hope. Alice peered through a window, ignoring the broken glass that stuck up around the frame. When she saw no movement inside she pushed open the door that was so much bigger than her and stepped into the building. Gracefully, she stepped over fallen furniture and found her way to what once was a kitchen. The cabinets all stood empty save a layer of dust and dead bugs. Alice rested a hand on her stomach and felt the spaces between her ribs.

Soon, the fragile form pulled herself up the stairs, and each step creaked and wailed in protest. Once upstairs, she moved from room to room, though in each she saw only broken furniture and grime. In the last room the glass of the window lay shattered in the grass far below. Alice crawled through the space, ignoring the cutting shards of glass that were left. By the light of the moon she slithered to the rooftop, where the moonlight made her wispy hair look like silver.

Alice sat there, small and fragile. Her body no longer resembled a porcelain doll; it was much closer to a skeleton. Each gust of wind seemed to carry away a piece of her skin, until there wasn’t really anything left. And so, starved and alone, Alice curled into a tight ball and closed her eyes for the last time.