D1 ☆ OPAL SILVA EARNEST [DONE]

You look at the girl who sat still, her frame did not move, as rigid as rock as she stares ahead of her. Her eyes do not stray from the tree that stood tall and proud, towering above the house to the left of her and making her seem vulnerable and almost as if she wasn’t really there. And she wasn’t. Her eyes, although open were distant and unfocused. (But then that was normal, her eyes never seemed to be alert and focused) You could tell she was a quiet girl, the silence around her seemed normal, and the gentle hum of the beat of insect’s wings was calming. Just by glancing you could see that any word that left her lips would ripple through the piece like ice and it would be shattered, the serenity destroyed. And so the water that surrounded her was calm and steady, but on the horizon anyone could see that storm that was coming.

Opal Silva Shore was not a girl who liked to be inside; the pressure of four walls, the little space, no fresh air, nothing, it was a trap in there. A place where people could not run and be free. It was also not only her who did not want her in the house. Her parents did not much want her there as well. Her stealing, her consistent taking and grabbing, like a magpie. She would sneak around the house, when she saw something small and shiny, anything that she could pick up, little trinkets, jewellery, anything. She would snatch it, shove it into her pocket and run. She collected them and kept them in her pockets, in her garden, anywhere where no one could follow her and take them back. It was an obsession mad and frantic, to grab them. To her it soon became a competition against herself, grabbing more expensive items. More and more until she had the most expensive trinket her family owned. The actions of a small child stain her, her age seems no barrier for childlike actions. She would always be a child.

Her moods can change like the flip of a hat, like her name the colours of how she feels can vary. She isn’t one for sitting on an emotion for a long time. Her ability to switch from angry to sad within a heartbeat just encourages everyone to see her as mental. However, when the gentle hum of a song plays she cannot resist the urge to move with the drum of the music and sadness, anger and pain seem far beyond her as the rhythm and hum of music takes control. Her blood flows to feel of the beat of the guitar or even the sound of an animal calling, any type of music, no matter how quiet and soft gets her going. To feel the music in her is everything that she wants. Her love of music transformed into gymnastics and in that she became quite a dare devil, risking her life in many of the tricks she performed, but she never did these in a gym. She had to stay outside, she had to do it in the fresh air, where no one could trap her where she could feel the cool breeze brush over her like music, the way it flooded her and took control of her and she moved and flipped, twirled, turned, (Swaying like the flowers) halted, jumped and danced with expertise.

I am a career. Everyone in my family is a career. And yet I am so much different.

”You aren’t welcome here.” The voice is laced with unfriendliness and my spine prickles with annoyance at the abrupt and crude statement. In a childish way I pout, my lower lip protruding and my arms defensively crossing over my chest. Stubbornly I eye the boy in front of me. I hated being inside, the walls, seemed to slowly slide closer until they were on top of me, blocking me in, preventing me from moving, they moved closer and closer until the very air I breathed held nothing, but air that I had already used and I couldn’t breathe. The air struggled in and out of my lungs, but it felt like water filling them, I gasped and flailed, gagging for the air that would not come as the walls were dragged forwards (Would anyone save me? I doubted it) until they crushed me. My hands grasp my throat and I blink, I blink rapidly until the walls are normal and until my breathing is no longer laboured, and the darkness that edged my vision begun to recede. For a heartbeat I agree with the boy in front of me.

I was not like them. I wasn’t in anyway similar to these people. They knew how to fight, they loved fighting, and they craved the blood and dreamed of being in the games, the arena where there was no law against killing others. I did not want it, but I still practiced, hardly, though. I trained because of my family, I had to. I needed to. But with a grunt I step away from the boy that blocked my path. His eyes narrowed and a smirk spilt onto his face. I resisted the urge to punch him, the walls were beginning to close in and I was craving the fresh air that was outside, the air that I could breathe and feel in my lungs, pure air. Hastily I back away before turning and fleeing into the cool air outside. My hands scramble onto my mouth, urging the air to come in. The garden that surrounded the building, the training centre was situated just a few feet away and I stared momentarily at the flowers, my mind flying to my own garden. My own plants, my babies. I had to go and care for them.

My family is rather large; I have a large number of brothers and sisters. Although I rarely talk to any of them. From a young age I have felt different and torn from them and I’m positive that my relentless stealing and thieving of their jewellery trinkets and anything I can grasp. Maybe if they knew they would try to hurt me and harm me. It is one of the reasons why I do not sleep in the house, but prefer the shelter of my home, my garden and the plants I raise and care for like my own children. But then that may be wrong. I would never care for a child as much as I care for those plants, no human baby could match their grace and beauty. I don’t believe I am ever going to be truly part of the family that has raised me; I never spend time with them, preferring the insects and plants that take up all my time. Their pride, strength and courage is stronger than anything I have ever seen. Perhaps that is where my career training is coming from. Not from the way most receive it, but from the world around me and the plants that will always keep me fighting.

So I run. I run home and bury myself into the soil where no one can find me.