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Friday, December 21, 2018

'Puddle Girl Essay\r'

'She gazes out the roamow, self-consciously adjusting the straps of her shirt. She shivers as a chill creeps out from the weathered window pane and draws a incumbrance cardigan from the overstuffed chair she has perched herself upon. The pounding of the come down slowly begins to abate and diverts into a soft, mollify roll of tears from the sky. She clasps the cardigan closer to her luggage compartment, as she ment solelyy counts off the number of ribs she muckle feel by means of the heavy, wool blend. Haplessly she utters the suspire of a woman far beyond her years and reaches to open the beckoning door. Her frail, ivory relegate encloses on the scuffed brass door thickener and she abruptly looks about her, as if she is wait for someone to reprimand her. She braces herself against the wind’s knocking chill and travel out into the blighting, crisp, after-rain air. Though she is wearing the dickens layers she had previously dressed herself in that white-haired m orning and the four other layers she had wrapped herself in throughout the day, she still shivers, the dampen gently pinpricking her spine.\r\nThe soft, baby hairs rising on her arms, she raises her diminutive hand to touch the baby-fine handful of gold silk upon her head, to find that it drifts off through her bony fingers to the earthen ground. She touches her head again and this time her gaze lands upon the aimless firmness of one golden strand. Whirling and twirling, it’s angelic decent is cushioned by the tender rain’s goo that had accumulated into a softly swirling ca-ca. In an impulsive childish manner, she squats down alongside the water mass and peers at the blustery, pat strand. As it writhes and dances across the still body of water, it creates perfect, symmetrical ripples of movement and sooner than later, to the recent girl’s objections, the hair is smother by the peaceful puddle’s saturation. And just as her lips utter withal another far-matured sigh, a reflection subsequently appears and the girl, in a melancholy, self-induced habit stares at the image impressed upon the water’s glass.\r\nThere is a girl in the puddle and she stares back with a defect stare. Where formerly sparkling blue eye glistened is now replaced with the color of grey misery, the arc engulfed in the world’s shoal appetite. Her cheeks sunken with the sharp edge that unaccompanied appears with years of self-destruction and facial air contorted into the tightness of c one timentrated self-loathing. Convulsing, the newborn girl abruptly shatters the ebbing puddle girl’s image, sending her nose, eyes, and tight-lipped un-smile into all directions. Trembling from anger, fear, painâ€a categorisation of such pure and raw sense that to describe it would be impossibleâ€the teenage girl crumbles down onto the cold, unyielding cement. Cradling her head, allowing the swirling alcoholic of feelings to take over he r being…once again the rains begin to fall and as each drop rolls down her once rosy cheeks, she sobs and thinks of days gone past.\r\n'

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