Dreamless Child

Piercing sunlight glimmers on her forehead, kissing away the surrealistic dreams rolling inside. She opens her eyes to its toddling shreds scattered in the layers of the polyester red curtain. Visuals of the previous night weigh her head with a sorrowful burden, not intense enough to burst her into tears or light enough to candle a sincere smile. Is it the incomplete dream or the bitter memories that swollen up her eyes?

She caresses the white translucent tiles with her brownish soft legs; the curve around her lips moving with an artificial smile. "A trouble is a tone or a trouble is an ounce, or a trouble is what you make it", her soulful recitation of cooke's lines celebrates the arrival of another dull and weary morning as if she is enjoying the melancholy of the suffocating air there. Yesterday was just an ordinary flick for her, as she had seen some blockbusters before.

As usual, the night began with a dinner at home, which twisted its family genre into horror with a provocative dialogue _ or was it dark humour? The overtopped dam of family life got into a failure again, dropping away the concreted love and care in an over flow of a lifetime's frustrations. But, she still managed to breathe, because she was an amphibian who could breath in air and water without difference.

She walks towards the toilet and slaps the deadly silence with the chuckles of water drops that touch her face. The cold water flirts with her naked body, tickling her dark soft skin. She turns down the romantic cold drops with her light blue turkey, erasing the traces of their passionate kisses. A victorious smile blooms in her lips as her head begins to regain clarity. Once again, she fills the void in her mind with lives of lifeless things.

Emotions are veiled under the quietude wandering around her like a soft wind after a cyclone. Every strange feeling becomes familiar with repetitions and that's what makes this morning pretty normal. She never once felt home within that luxurious two floor building. It was more like chocking within a broken glass that's yet to hit the floor. It never touched the ground, but she could contemplate the noise of it getting shattered into pieces. It never manifested a single crack outside, but she felt terrible inside, quivering at unfamiliar sounds, mistaking it for a final fall.

As she drags the black chair from her room's right corner, she recalls a time when she was naive enough to think she would move to a better place. Now, she is almost there, in the comfort zone of her chair, with the half read book of her favourite author, while she accidentally unwraps the flashbacks of an embittered childhood. Fragrance of the recently published novel floats through the uniformed letters in those creamy white pages. Deep within the narrations and dialogues, a dreamless child stares at her, desperate to vanish into thin air like she has never existed.