.::Looking Glass::.

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.::Looking Glass::.

Post  Cojo on Tue Mar 09, 2010 11:53 pm

Looking Glass
By: Dani Cojo

Such an ordinary scene lies before my eyes. For years, this was my world. It never changed, never ceased to amaze me. It was a part of my life. It was a simple monotonous fact. Everyday it was the same, and it never changed.

From the day I moved in to this exact moment, the panorama has been untouched. Nothing has been tampered with. I have never been able to reach its beauty, for this small pane of glass and wire keeps me separated from its wonder. Some days, I would touch the window gently with my fingertips, longing to see what it was like to be in that wonderland. How I wished I could be out there, in that world. It seemed so much more real to me than this room I live in.

This world never changed, yet magically, it would change slightly, as if to taunt me. It would change just a little bit, as if saying “This is what you’re missing. You are missing out on this great wonder that can change in a blink of an eye, yet remain constant. This world will never change as you grow up. You will change, and this realm would never cease to stay the same.”

I sat in a small lavender room, on a small bed covered with pink lilies, and I would stare out that window; longing and wishing to be set free. I ignored the princesses and princes dancing gallantly on my walls, and I tuned out the small, fragile ringing the music box on my dresser sang. All that mattered was that untouchable world.

At six years old, this world was a magic land, where my princess and princes would leave my walls as I slept, and go through the looking glass and dance and twirl in that wonderland. Every night, I would dream of being with Ariel, Cinderella, and Prince Charming. I longed to be Princess Danielle, and to join them in their frolicking and dancing. I watch as the warm breeze gently blows the leaves on the branches, and I can hear the birds singing songs of happiness and praise. It is cool and crisp outside, yet every living thing is out. Baby animals frolic in the tall grass. The cold pavement that lines the road does not scare the creatures away. They only embrace it. Oh, how I wish to embrace that as well. I’m sure that my princesses and princes are as happy as those animals.

Now eight years old, and the world before my eyes is still the same. Dormant. Inactive. Forever in an eternal sleep. Yet in my dreams, it taunts me still. It says, “See how my leaves change, and how my pelt turns from green to white? Don’t you long to join me in this mystical world? But you cannot. Everyday, I stay the same, and everyday you grow older, and change, and soon you will no longer be able to be with me.”

How true. This world only spoke the truth, and no matter how much I reject its statements, I can’t deny that they are true. I am older than before. I look older, feel older, and I’m pretty sure I smell older as well. Even my world is changed. My princesses and princes have left me for good, replaced with jungle cats and penguins and snakes and every other animal you can think of. My soothing lavender walls have been replaced with baby blue skies and cotton candy clouds. I no longer sleep in a pile of pink lilies. Now, I am comforted by the soft fur of a wild leopard.

Yet, I still sit in the same spot, and stare out the same window. The same large tree sits in the center of that world, creating a large spot of shade for all the squirrels and blue jays and cats that wish to hide from the sun. At this moment, I sit and stare at this tree. The sun beats down harshly on this giant magnificent plant, and the animals take cover in its shadows. Heat of summer it taking away the life force of the tree, and I selfishly think that this magical tree deserves it. How dare it mock me? Yet, I feel sorry that this tree could lose it’s willpower to live without the water that nourishes.

Simply twelve years old, and I feel accomplished. The world before me hasn’t changed, except for the cruel, sadistic slight changes. Yet, I myself have not changed either. Yes, I am older than before, but my world has not changed. I did not give in to my ever changing world. My walls are still baby blue, and the animals still watch me as I sleep. Although, I am growing tired. I still long for that outside world, but I cannot take my simple world any longer.

Leaves fall off the large majestic tree, littering the ground with reds, yellows and oranges. The ground looks as if it has been set ablaze. Everyday, the world taunts me, mocks me. I will win this battle. I will break through the unbreakable glass. I will touch that world. That world that is now colder, though it is obviously on fire.

Now, I am fifteen. My world is growing old. I wish to change this world again. But if I give in, the magic wonderland before my eyes will win this battle. I will not give in to its heckling. I will overcome. The animals are growing weary, and my blue skies are fading. The clouds are dispersing, and the sun behind my fan is setting. My world is growing tired, but I am still strong. As I sit in the leopards den, I stare out through the looking glass.

I can tell that the oak’s world is tired too. Animals do not frolic with my princesses or princes. My jungle beasts do not roam the hot Serengeti outside. The ground is no longer ablaze with that raging and mocking fire. The earth is cold. Ice covers the world: a frozen tundra where life does not exist. The tree is bare, no longer creating shelter from the sun. Snow, as white as a barn owls feather, and as sparkly as the brightest star, covers over the ice. It is the deadliest time of this world. The deadliest I have ever seen it. Yet, I still long to be in that world. It comforts me. It makes me feel whole.

I am sixteen, turning on seventeen. The ice has melted, though snow still coats patches of the ground. I can hear birds starting to sing, and I see a few squirrels and cats roam the land. Buds cover the limbs of the large oak, and it begins it’s mocking. For months, it has been silent, its foul words frozen along with the earth. Now, as the earth melts, the words start to spill. “You wish to be out here, don’t you Dani? Yes, I have learned you’re new name. Everything about you is new. Your name, your appearance, your world.” And yes, that is true. Too true. I no longer had hair as long as my back. I no longer have the round childish face. I am older and wiser. My world has changed as well. My blue skies have faded into a dull gray. The animals have fled, and now flat posters of vampires and mystical beasts cover my walls. This cavern I live in is new and foreign to me, yet it is more comforting than what that magic world outside my window.

I touch that window with my fingertips. I’m older and wiser. I know I can escape. I can finally be in that wonderland I have coveted for so long. I smile, looking at that old oak tree, still alive and well. Spring has come; a time for new beginnings and a time for life anew. I push on that window, and push and push. Nothing happens, but I do not get angry or fret. I simply think, and soon I find a latch. Such a simple latch, yet it has kept me here for so long. I flick that latch, and a breeze sways the branches on the large tree. It seems to moan and creak in desperation. It doesn’t want me to break free. But I will. I know I will.

The wire screen falls, and I am amazed to be through the first barrier. I push on the window more and continue to push, yet it won’t budge. The tree smiles a twisted smile that only I can see. I step back and look at this barrier. This trap is harder to break. I sit and stare at the window. Not at the tree. I know that in order to escape, I must ignore the world before my eyes, and focus what has been in front of me this whole time. I stand up and grasp a handle hidden in the corner. I pull and push with no avail, but there must be a way.

I turn the handle to the right, and the old window creaks. I apply more pressure and grunt. Slowly, the old looking glass sifts and opens. I smile as I hear the birds sing clearly, and I hear the wind blow through the leaves. I can feel the warmth of the sun, and I can hear the old oak whine and moan.

The window is open wide, and I am free.
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Cojo

Posts : 16
Join date : 2010-02-23
Age : 24
Location : Michigan

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