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The Azure Girl
Topic Started: Nov 14 2009, 03:15 AM (424 Views)
kelseyyy.
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Set down your eyes for a moment and breathe.
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ohkay, i don't usually write stories, but i gave it a go...
it has kindof an abrupt ending, and i'm not sure if it makes sense to anyone other than me...but i'd appreciate comments to tell me if it does...
thanks=].

P.S. You guys may find some resemblance between this story and Blake's recent one...(think it was called The Patchwork Man?). i'd just like to clarify and say that that isn't where i was headed (or started for that matter...) at all. i really wasn't thinking of that. just got randomly inspired by some stuff from english class that i could really connect with. so if it seems too similar, then i apologize as much as i possibly can.


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Today I saw a girl with love written on her arms.

From the tips of her left fingertips to the hinge of her left elbow, there were words trailing patterns of colors and shapes. They splayed out from the palm of her hand, like they were waves crashing on an ocean beach creating a pattern of “breathe in, breathe out.” She seemed oblivious to the world around her; the words belonging to her no longer needing to be expressed, for there they were upon her arm for the world to see. If it so chose.

Studying this girl, I suspected I saw the shadow of a lingering smile on her lips. Her blue eyes were raindrops that fell into the canvas of her face, creating puddles yet still managing to keep the deep sadness of a thousand tears. It was difficult to see, but she wore the demeanor like a cloak, covering up the colors and emotions that tore into her throat. She wore it well.

Still, I could not discover why she had these words, poems, her language written upon her arm. Was she drowning in the obvious rivers of a broken heart? No, that could not be it. It was simpler.

I sat there, on the dew-damp wood of the plain park bench, and tried to uncover the veiling of her being in words. I sat as a distant sun ray ate its way through the clouds, attempting to dry the world of its sorrows. I sat as a distant breeze shuffled the yellow leaves behind me. I sat.

By the time the sun had eaten a life-sized hole in the clouds, I had come to a conclusion: this girl was hiding behind her words. The pen she used to mark those words on her arm was merely a vessel. She was the one who painted her heart onto a blank canvas; she was the only one who was writing her story. And there it was.

Simple, but not so. If the world wanted to see the letters inscribed in her mind, all they had to do was take the time. Her story was written there upon her arm for anyone to read. All they had to do was stop. Take the time.

So there was her story, sticking out from under her skin, plain as a rock jutting out of a cliff. Those who cared could read her like and open book if they tried. Those who didn’t could still catch glimpses of it every now and then, weaving around her fingertips and into the palm of her hand. The ones who cared took the time to figure her out in the way a logic problem has infinite answers. She knew who cared.

She trusted humanity to read her story, and interpret it as they saw fit. She believed in creating her own destiny for the world to follow, not the other way around. For could everyone stop to define the story written upon tablets of memory, they would find theirs intertwined in some way. Borrowed from their pages.

Yet still, another connection I made. Why only copy your soul onto one arm? Why not both, or even the entirety of your body? Because perspective changes. No color I see is the same color someone else does. Therefore, in leaving her right arm blank, she built a masquerade to hide her independency. The other arm was unprinted so that someone else could leave their handprint upon her life, without altering her destiny. The other arm was the first snowfall, waiting for a first love to stride through the blankness and leave his footprints. The other arm was fate.

Still sitting on that park bench, I watched as the sun descended upon the horizon, leaving a crimson and azure trail across the sky. The azure light struck the girl on her face, for a second leaving her defenseless as it snagged through the holes in her veil, showing the world what truly lay underneath. Everything.

As I trudged through the puddles to my home, I reflected upon the thought of the azure girl. For here she had managed to capture fate and destiny and describe it to the world. Yet she still somehow hid a part of her. If neither fate nor destiny were to remove all suspicion, then what could we rely on? Nothing but ourselves.

The next morning, I woke to the urgent beeping of my alarm clock. I managed to shake myself from the reverie I had been pondering all night, and staggered into the bathroom. Turning on the water faucet, I put my hands in the warm water, hoping to soothe my somewhat confused thoughts. Then I looked down, expecting to see my face reflected in the water I held cupped in my hands. But expectations are always being shattered.

Within my left hand, I saw words circling around my fingers and syllables resting on my palm. I rolled up my sleeves, and there I saw one snow-white arm and one laced with words. I gently raised my face to the mirror, and saw within the rain-puddles I kept as eyes, the traits of the azure girl I had observed the night before. Or so I believed.

The words tracing their way up my left arm had already woven their way into my fate. No longer could I hide behind the words hidden in my heart, for there they were, inscribed into my skin. If we cannot explain ourselves, then we must create our own words that can. Compose our own definitions.

It just so happened that then I chanced a glance at my right arm. There was only one thing I had missed in my slight previous glance: there was a handprint within the blankness. Love had already written itself upon my arms. Worded my fate.
Edited by kelseyyy., Nov 14 2009, 07:30 PM.
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Jessie
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a story from kelsey?! no way! :P

i liked it :D

and i liked your arm ;)
not many people knew it was twloha day, i wish more kids would have done it at school.
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kelseyyy.
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Set down your eyes for a moment and breathe.
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haha yeah i know...
i kindof got randomly inspired by my own arm/the concept of twloha. i just think "to write love on her arms" sounds so incredibly poetic and can be symbolized by so much. so yes, that is why i wrote this=] (haha. this being an extremely rare thing...i can never get my thoughts down straight enough to write a story =P).
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D. Black
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I'm not breathing, I must be in heaven
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Kelsey, Kelsey, Kelsey. :P
Great job.

Your school had a TWLOHA day?! That's awesome!
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kelseyyy.
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Set down your eyes for a moment and breathe.
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not really our school...it was more of people's individual efforts. but not many people ended up doing it =[.
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Jessie
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i just heard across deviant art that it was twloha day and then at school several people i know said it was twloha day....so i figured it really was twloha day, hah.
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kelseyyy.
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Set down your eyes for a moment and breathe.
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yeah, i figured it out from facebook. and then i got to school and mariah was like KELSEY YOU DONT HAVE LOVE WRITTEN ON YOUR ARMS (cause i really had no clue that i was supposed to do that. haha) so she wrote it on my arm for me.
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Celestial-Fox
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WEEEEEEST. . .
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That was eally good, Kels. You slay me with your skilllls! XD! You've got an awesome prose-poem style.
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