Sorry for the late posting, guys! I’ve been back in the States visiting family so my mind and time has been limited. (As you may see when you read this.) But writing is important and I have to keep at it!! My prompt:
The Skin I’m In
I turned the corner and saw myself at four years old. Not a phantom, but the physical me, on the last day I ever danced.
When I was born, my mother wasn’t surprised at my lack of mortality, but she was livid. My hair grew out into pink waves while my eyes took on a sea green color that clashed with my sunset colored skin. Mother tried to use makeup and dyes to hide my appearance, but when my wings sprouted out from between my shoulder blades, there was nothing she could do anymore. “You’re disgusting,” Mother would say to me, her eyes never resting on me for more than a minute. “If ever there was an example of a dangerous one night stand, that’s you.”
I tried not to let it bother me.
When I was one and a half, I knew better than to look out the windows. I was a creature of disgust and needed to act like it. At the same time, I was supposed to act like the other toddlers my age, keeping my talking and observations to myself. Most days, I stayed in my room, dancing to the tunes that spilled out of my radio. I got quite good at matching my steps to the sounds, my body moving on something akin to instinct. It was the only time I ever felt truly happy: when my body became the movements of dance. Continue reading