The Life and Times of a Girl
She was born. She lived in a caravan on a building site, the rain on the corrugated iron roof her earliest memory. There was something about not wanting a girl, something between her parents. Yet she was a girl. They named her.
The mother of the girl had a sister, only she wasn't a sister, she was a daughter. The sister/daughter came to live with the girl in the caravan with the corrugated iron roof. The sister/daughter prodded the girl, tipped her from her pram, rocked her too hard on the rocking horse.
The girl learnt how to dance - she put on satin ballet shoes and danced to make herself feel alive.
This man, a painter, called the girl, Little Fairy. She visited him often so they could walk around his garden to count the gnomes that lived there. The man had a granddaughter, but she heard voices. The man, the painter, took the girl into his studio and he painted her. She wore her pink tutu and satin ballets shoes and let the ringlets in her hair fall free, just the way he told her to. In the painting the girl was flying, though she didn't have wings. The painter told her to look again, but all she saw was a girl in free-fall. Still, she liked the picture. She liked the man, the painter.
Somehow, and the girl was certain of this, all her goodness was in her hair. When she got it cut, she invited the devil in. Once the devil came to visit in a white van with his wife at his side. The devil told the girl to get in, but she refused. She knew it was the devil and that he had a name.
The girl's mother served food. It was all the mother could do - serve food. The girl refused the mother's food until she became thin and weak and sad. She was starving - starved. She grew a fine downy fur all over her body. Became an animal: something urban, like a fox. She wore her sleeves short to show off her animal status.
The fox-girl had two cubs. She fed them well, took good care of them, licked their wounds and taught them how to dance. After her cubs moved away, the fox-girl saw she had grown old as if it had happened in a twitch of time.
This time the dance couldn't save her. Darkness fell and the girl lay down in its embers. She couldn't raise herself. Not even to write, or to talk, or to see the beauty in the world.
The mother of the girl had a sister, only she wasn't a sister, she was a daughter. The sister/daughter came to live with the girl in the caravan with the corrugated iron roof. The sister/daughter prodded the girl, tipped her from her pram, rocked her too hard on the rocking horse.
The girl learnt how to dance - she put on satin ballet shoes and danced to make herself feel alive.
This man, a painter, called the girl, Little Fairy. She visited him often so they could walk around his garden to count the gnomes that lived there. The man had a granddaughter, but she heard voices. The man, the painter, took the girl into his studio and he painted her. She wore her pink tutu and satin ballets shoes and let the ringlets in her hair fall free, just the way he told her to. In the painting the girl was flying, though she didn't have wings. The painter told her to look again, but all she saw was a girl in free-fall. Still, she liked the picture. She liked the man, the painter.
Somehow, and the girl was certain of this, all her goodness was in her hair. When she got it cut, she invited the devil in. Once the devil came to visit in a white van with his wife at his side. The devil told the girl to get in, but she refused. She knew it was the devil and that he had a name.
The girl's mother served food. It was all the mother could do - serve food. The girl refused the mother's food until she became thin and weak and sad. She was starving - starved. She grew a fine downy fur all over her body. Became an animal: something urban, like a fox. She wore her sleeves short to show off her animal status.
The fox-girl had two cubs. She fed them well, took good care of them, licked their wounds and taught them how to dance. After her cubs moved away, the fox-girl saw she had grown old as if it had happened in a twitch of time.
This time the dance couldn't save her. Darkness fell and the girl lay down in its embers. She couldn't raise herself. Not even to write, or to talk, or to see the beauty in the world.