A rough draft of a creative piece I have to write for my english class. It is inspired by the poem “Cinderella” by Olga Broumas and also by the character Laura Brown from “The Hours.”
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“Mom! Mom! Wake up mom it’s you’re birthday!”
Cindy slowly peeled her eyelids open, letting the first cracks of daylight assault her from the ugly pink drapes facing her bedroom. She had been having such a nice dream. She tried to recall what she had been dreaming about. She was running, running towards a soft light. She ran, pushing her legs as fast as they would take her reaching, stretching toward this faint light growing brighter as she ran.
“MOM you have to wake up it’s your birthday!”
Cindy accelerated into reality. The adrenaline from her dream slowly seeped away until the wisps of her slumber were replaced by that familiar sinking feeling in the pit of her gut. She didn’t get up right away, she hardly ever did.
She lay still, catching the last few moments until finally she gave way to the incessant tugging on the blankets.
She turned slowly to face her son. Her son. She stared at the unrepressed excitement in Johnny’s face. In the background her husband John looked on with a serene glow.
“Johnny why don’t you get mommy’s birthday present ready for her,” John said across the room. Johnny skittered away, absolutely elated at the thought. John walked across the room and sat down by his wife.
“Happy Birthday honey,” he said happily.
“Thank you dear.” Cindy hesitated.
“I’ll let you get ready then.” John flashed his crest whitened smile. He closed the door quietly on his way out.
Cindy breathed out softly. She sat up and looked out of the ugly pink curtains. She absolutely hated these curtains. They distorted the trees outside and made the houses looked like giant pink boxes. She stared out of the window, emotionless.
Slowly, daintily, she lifted herself off of the bed and sat down in front of the dresser. The unfamiliar face stared back at her. Her soft freckled skin and light brown hair looked the same, but those eyes. Those eyes. They haunted her every reflection, throwing sharp shadows of disappointment at her with every look. Slowly she brushed her hair and slid on a jeweled green headband. A green calf length dress followed, slipping down onto her thin frame. She completed the outfit with a white belt and the diamond earrings John had gotten her for their anniversary. Cindy uncapped her red Chanel no. 5 lipstick and traced the outline of her lips, giving them a façade of fullness. She closed her eyes.
That red, the same color as the old Ford truck her father used to let her take out on the weekends.
It was a time of freedom. She ran wild that summer, with no regards about the future. No cares about the war or the looming threat of financial security, or lack there of. There was only her. The summer of June.
One Sunday they drove that old Ford down to the coast. June was sitting in the front seat, an absolute vision. Cindy’s hands were shaking. She had never seen anything so beautiful in her entire life. She gripped the steering wheel tightly even though the car was parked near the seashore.
June turned to her, raising her dimples on either side of her face like masts on a ship. Her lips spoke miles. Those lips and a single raised eyebrow made her exquisitely haunting. She leaned in and delicately placed her lips to meet Cindy’s. Her soft cool lips tasted like the salty summer that they had spent together. She looked up after a moment, tilting her head coyly, her eyes blazing through those thick lashes. She laughed and soon became a flash of blonde hair taking off across the beach, leaving Cindy awestruck in her effeminate charm.
“Mom are you coming?”
The boy’s muffled voice jolted Cindy’s eyes back onto the crestfallen woman in the mirror. A single sand dollar lay propped up against her dresser. She picked it up, stroking it gently before setting it down. She slowly got up, resting her hand on the doorknob for a moment. With a gentle turn of the knob she followed the tumultuous voices into the kitchen.