This freebie story for my Work in Progress, The Players Are the Thing, was the result...
The tree in the painting would have looked so pretty with its golden leaves, standing like a queen front and center amidst the glade, if not for the jump rope.
It lay in the grass, peeking out amidst the protruding roots, like a snake or a hangman’s noose, a mute reminder of childhood humiliation.
Rhane Soames grimaced, found herself lifting her hand to block out the sight of the thick cord, but she couldn’t block out the memories, echoing inside her head. Memories of mocking, girlish laughter, coming from the crowd all wearing plaid skirts and knee socks that gathered around her to witness her humilation. Yes, Rhane was forced to wear the same skirt and socks as them, but she’d done something to stand out. She could still feel the sting of the rope against her ankles, burning as they laughed.
Rhane gazed through her fingers at the here and now, glanced around the art gallery to see if anyone had noticed her doing something which might draw attention, more laughter. To her relief, this particular room was empty. No one was watching her.
No one real, that is.
“Rhane, what’s wrong?” Amberwyne whispered within her imagination, as considerate and attentive as only ideals can be. She sat on a bench below the tree, wearing a peach gown with flowing skirts, billowing sleeves, amber waves of hair spilling over her shoulders. She gestured to a space on her bench next to her and patted it. “Please. Come sit next to me and tell me about it.”
Rhane closed her eyes and visualized herself there. She took a seat next to Amber, almost ready to cry with a relief that she, too, was wearing a gown with flowing skirts and billowing sleeves, like something a vampire might wear in a classic horror movie, not the plaid skirt and knee socks. Her own hair felt loose, lighter, as she gave it a toss. “I hate jump ropes. The very sight of them makes me sick and my ankles hurt, plus laughter starts echoing in my head.”
“Why?” This could have been a horrible question, but it was Amber asking, gazing at Rhane with brilliant crystal blue eyes, which held only compassion. No mockery.
“I could never jump rope.” Every word felt like a zit, full of puss, pushing its way through formerly smooth skin. “I tried to do it. Only I never caught the moment, leaped at the right time. The rope always hit my ankles. I never knew when to move.” Rhane gazed down at her skirts, which hid her legs. “Knowing when to move connected the girls swinging the rope and everyone else who jumped. I wasn’t part of it, which everyone else found hilarious.” She could see the other girls, glancing at her, whispering to each other, only to start snickering. Letting Rhane know she was clumsy, weird, on the outside. After all, she was the only one who couldn’t figure out when to jump. She literally didn’t know the moment when it hit her, no matter how hard she tried.
Tears, hot, itchy, and humiliating spilled down Rhane’s cheeks. Of all the stupid things to cry over, something which had happened long ago.
Amber didn’t snicker. Amber reached out to take Rhane’s hand, protecting her tiny, soft fingers with her strong, slender ones.
If only Amberwyne was real. No one real would understand weeping over a jump rope.
“Maybe I’m not real, but my advice is.” Amber squeezed Rhane’s hand. “Don’t let the rope spoil the rest of the picture.”
Rhane looked away from the ugly cord to the brilliant fall foilage of the tree and its companions. “The rest is beautiful.”
“Just remember.” Amber leaned closer, so her lips were very close to Rhane’s cheek. “There’s only one rope and a lot of trees with leaves.” She kissed her player, whispering against her skin. “Just because you missed the moment to leap across the rope doesn’t mean there won’t be more moments. Better ones with people far more worth impressing than a bunch of girls who laugh at you.”
Rhane shut her eyes, savoring the kiss for as long as she could, until the vision blurred. She returned to reality, to the gallery. Tears still trickled from the corner of her eye, but they no longer ached.
“I wish you were real.” Rhane uttered her prayer to the empty room, not believing anyone was listening.
No one real was, but reality wasn’t everything. Inside Rhane Soames’ heart, Amberwyne smiled through tears of her own. “I may not be real, but I’m yours. Real or not, I won’t stop trying to make you as happy in reality as you are when you’re with me.”
Even if the result was Rhane no longer needed Amber and she, Amberwyne faded out of existence.
Ah, well, her creatrix was finite. Why shouldn’t Amberwyne be? If the price of making Rhane happy was fading, Amber was willing to pay it.
Hopefully she’d at least get to stride off into the sunset when it happened.
No comments:
Post a Comment