Scraps (2) Daydreams
You may remember that I posted an example of 'unfinished writing attempts' entitled Black Widow sometime ago. These mini-episodes were made to let out some pent-up creative steam and to put to paper some products of imagination that are constantly running around in my mind.
Now, I'd like to share one more.
I picked up the framed photograph from atop the marble mantelpiece. I squinted thoughtfully at the sepia-toned picture, making out a cobble-stoned wall, reminiscent of old, castle walls, a flight of stairs and the subject in profile – a girl.
For it was a girl. She was around ten or eleven years of age with waist-length, reddish brown hair glinting in the light coming from above her. She was wearing this poufy dress with rose knot sleeves and a big skirt covered with a thick tulle that was knotted at the back with three more roses. Her head was posed just so and a Madonna-like smile graced her lips – a knowing smile – as if she knew that she was being watched and that the person, carefully hidden, was taking her picture.
Her back was to the covert photographer and I could not see her face clearly, yet, there was something familiar about her, something the way she held her head or the stubbiness of her fingers. I knew her somehow…
A low, gentle voice sounded from the doorway, “That’s my second favorite picture of you.”