Okay...this is the beginning to a piece of mine. I have more written. This is just kind of an introduction. The rest I have written is more like a story, with dialogue and such. Please, please, please reply. This isn't long, it won't take long to read. It just something I wrote down and comments are always welcome. It's completely different from the other things I write, but I like the story I have in my head all the same. Thanks- Sarah
She liked the way the sun filtered through the trees and created a dappled path for her. Though she wouldn’t admit it to those walking across the grounds with her, she liked to play a game with the sunlight. She would imagine that each time she stepped into the sunlight, she was all of the sudden back in the real world, but when passing under a tree, where the shade was heavier and the pools of light less, she would fall into a different world. She would exist in the few seconds that her stride took her to get back into the sun, as a princess, a warrior, a magistrate, a child. She would lose her focus thinking about what it would be like to live permanently in this world, not only in the shadows, but in broad daylight, where everyone could see what she was, who she truly was. She would tell herself that they would accept her for who she was, be it a secret agent, a fairy, a watermelon sales-woman. Shaking her head, falling out of step with them, she would sometimes find herself slowing down her pace, just so she could pretend for a split-second longer.
She would never tell them of this game. Only children played games with the sunlight, because they don’t have things to worry about like exams, and reputations, and truth and lies. The only thing they had to worry about was washing their hands before they ate supper, or holding tightly onto the rough, natural notches and thick branches of the oak trees.
But she was not a child.
She was a woman.
They sometimes looked at her oddly when she would make offhand, irrelevant comments, or get that lost-in-her-own-body look in her eyes. She didn’t seem to notice. They wondered that, if she did notice, would she even care?
She was brilliant, they knew that. She made the highest marks in all of her classes. When her professors handed back her essays and research papers, they would always have a fond expression on their faces, engraved with deep respect. They didn’t know what kind of things she wrote, because she never showed them her papers, or boasted about her grades. No, she would smile, or bring her eyebrows together in concentration, but she never let them read it. Even though they were insanely curious, they never asked. She might have lost some of her mysticism if they had. Her comments were always slow, and thoughtful. She didn’t speak much. They wanted her to speak. They wanted her to open her mouth and spill her wisdom onto them. Maybe they could soak up some of her enigmatic lure. However, if she spoke too much, it might leave her.
She was beautiful, they had eyes. Her black hair would fall into her face, and she would absentmindedly push it back, except for a wisp that always fell across her bright eyes. They’d never seen someone whose eyes were darker, hers were nearly black, but the best way to describe them was definitely bright. She would look up at them with a definite reason. Overly large irises, surrounded by overly large whites, framed by long, coffee colored lashes: they were like a child’s eyes, but they were alight with knowledge that a child could not possibly possess. She was slim in a healthy way. She had curves appropriate for her age, only nineteen, in all of the right places. She didn’t flaunt, and sometimes held herself with a lack of confidence that they couldn’t imagine her ever having. But it suited her. She would have been annoying and haughty if she had been confident.
They often wondered if she was involved in some type of magic, of potion making that made her so perfect. If anyone was capable of this, it would be her.
They often wondered why her name was “Jane,” unless the mother was blind, deaf, mute, and a little slow. She would had to have been to carry and give birth to the opposite of plain, and then christen her with the most ordinary name to every be put into the rotation of human names.
While they were discussing these things, they tended to be rather melodramatic.