Daddy
Another story I wrote a while ago, although I added to it considerably since then. But not so recently.
Daddy
The sun was shining over the grassy hills and the grass reflected all the light onto the car that drove past, kicking up dust and rocks from the road. A little girl’s face could be seen through the window, gaunt and joyless. Her eyes pale blue, and her hair and skin so thin and light that it looked as though if you touched her, her outer layer might fall away like a curtain and leave only her shimmering sadness, small and weak upon the ground. In the front of the car her father was trying to drive and work at the same time and finding little success, his wavy light brown hair still in perfect shape, with just a smidgen of gray poking out of the top. They were driving past the hills of Teren on their way to Farrell’s new school. She didn’t really care that daddy had made sure she got all the electives she wanted, she didn’t really care that he bought her new clothes and got her a new haircut, she didn’t really care how many times he said he was sorry they had to move, it was all easy for him to do, not like loving her. Daddy could give her so much, but was it such a stretch to love her, to hug her, or to give her a kiss goodnight and call her his little princess, like all her friends daddies did. She sighed as she stared out the window, wincing at the sunshine, so used to the calming sounds of rain, and the relaxing shade of dark.
On the evening of the next day, she and her daddy went for a walk along the beaches. She found a lovely flower. Oh what a feeling it was to be happy for a fleeting moment, to feel the glitter of true goodness in her soul, if only for a moment. She stuck it in her thin hair and closed her eyes. Pretending that she was a princess and daddy the king. They would go out into their woods and play with the animals. He loved her and smiled with her, he hugged her and played with her. She was truly happy. She ran up to her father, she hadn’t said a word to him in about 3 years, just nodded or smiled. Maybe she would talk to him today. But he saw an associate from work and was talking to her, best not interrupt. She saw Farrell and smiled, and he looked down at her as if just realizing he had a daughter. And ruffled her hair, knocking the flower from her hair. The happiness left her and she looked down at it, as if he had just knocked her soul from her. She felt like everything was lost. Daddy wouldn’t ever love her; he didn’t want to, she didn’t matter.
She wasn’t always so unhappy, sometimes at night she wasn’t. All she had to do was think about how she was finally going to sleep, about how she did not have to think about anything while she was dreaming, about how she didn’t have to do anything for the rest of the day, all she had to do was lie there and be calm and think, and listen to Harry Potter. That was nice. There was no daddy to worry about, no homework to do, and no friends to make or keep or care about, just Harry Potter, thoughts and dreams.
Waking up was the worst, she felt as though she had wasted her few hours of solitude, as though her dreams could have been richer, her thoughts more profound, or how she could have listened to more Harry Potter, or gone to bed earlier. And now they were lost, and she had to deal with all the pains of daytime for hours and hours, until it was bedtime again, and all she had to face was the disappointment of no kiss from daddy.
And in the daytime there was light. She felt like light from the sun hurt her insides. Like it penetrated her frail skin and damaged her light hair. Like it could get inside her and read her little soul like a book and see that she didn’t like it, and then punish her. Though she couldn’t imagine how she could be punished more, maybe with no nighttime, or no dreams.
I do actually relate to this girl considerably. Not in my situation in life, or in my relationship with my father, but definitely in the way I feel about things, especially at the end of the day. I have always wanted to add to this, but I dont know where to start.
Daddy
The sun was shining over the grassy hills and the grass reflected all the light onto the car that drove past, kicking up dust and rocks from the road. A little girl’s face could be seen through the window, gaunt and joyless. Her eyes pale blue, and her hair and skin so thin and light that it looked as though if you touched her, her outer layer might fall away like a curtain and leave only her shimmering sadness, small and weak upon the ground. In the front of the car her father was trying to drive and work at the same time and finding little success, his wavy light brown hair still in perfect shape, with just a smidgen of gray poking out of the top. They were driving past the hills of Teren on their way to Farrell’s new school. She didn’t really care that daddy had made sure she got all the electives she wanted, she didn’t really care that he bought her new clothes and got her a new haircut, she didn’t really care how many times he said he was sorry they had to move, it was all easy for him to do, not like loving her. Daddy could give her so much, but was it such a stretch to love her, to hug her, or to give her a kiss goodnight and call her his little princess, like all her friends daddies did. She sighed as she stared out the window, wincing at the sunshine, so used to the calming sounds of rain, and the relaxing shade of dark.
On the evening of the next day, she and her daddy went for a walk along the beaches. She found a lovely flower. Oh what a feeling it was to be happy for a fleeting moment, to feel the glitter of true goodness in her soul, if only for a moment. She stuck it in her thin hair and closed her eyes. Pretending that she was a princess and daddy the king. They would go out into their woods and play with the animals. He loved her and smiled with her, he hugged her and played with her. She was truly happy. She ran up to her father, she hadn’t said a word to him in about 3 years, just nodded or smiled. Maybe she would talk to him today. But he saw an associate from work and was talking to her, best not interrupt. She saw Farrell and smiled, and he looked down at her as if just realizing he had a daughter. And ruffled her hair, knocking the flower from her hair. The happiness left her and she looked down at it, as if he had just knocked her soul from her. She felt like everything was lost. Daddy wouldn’t ever love her; he didn’t want to, she didn’t matter.
She wasn’t always so unhappy, sometimes at night she wasn’t. All she had to do was think about how she was finally going to sleep, about how she did not have to think about anything while she was dreaming, about how she didn’t have to do anything for the rest of the day, all she had to do was lie there and be calm and think, and listen to Harry Potter. That was nice. There was no daddy to worry about, no homework to do, and no friends to make or keep or care about, just Harry Potter, thoughts and dreams.
Waking up was the worst, she felt as though she had wasted her few hours of solitude, as though her dreams could have been richer, her thoughts more profound, or how she could have listened to more Harry Potter, or gone to bed earlier. And now they were lost, and she had to deal with all the pains of daytime for hours and hours, until it was bedtime again, and all she had to face was the disappointment of no kiss from daddy.
And in the daytime there was light. She felt like light from the sun hurt her insides. Like it penetrated her frail skin and damaged her light hair. Like it could get inside her and read her little soul like a book and see that she didn’t like it, and then punish her. Though she couldn’t imagine how she could be punished more, maybe with no nighttime, or no dreams.
I do actually relate to this girl considerably. Not in my situation in life, or in my relationship with my father, but definitely in the way I feel about things, especially at the end of the day. I have always wanted to add to this, but I dont know where to start.
posted by Anonymous Bitch at 9:55 PM
3 Comments:
"Waking up was the worst, she felt as though she had wasted her few hours of solitude, as though her dreams could have been richer, her thoughts more profound, or how she could have listened to more Harry Potter, or gone to bed earlier. And now they were lost, and she had to deal with all the pains of daytime for hours and hours, until it was bedtime again"
i absolutely know. i hate that. i'm always disappointed when i have to wake up, that the day will inevitably be shitty, just like the day before.
you're a good writer. don't let anyone tell you that you're not.
i really like your stories. they are a little long when read at midnight, but still, moving and mysterious in a way that is only yours. the first of a long line of comments. cheers. <3
I love your writing, and same with you, i can connect with this girl. Not really with her parent -relationship, but with the fragile, sun-weakened feeling. I somehow feel different about the night though, because for me, no matter how much i want to, i can never control if i get to dream or not. Night is my black but peaceful vortex.
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