The dark water swirled deeply around her, dangerously close to her mouth and nose. While the other childern laughed and played she drowned in her own pain. No noticed or cared enough about the little girl with the red hair. Except for me. I lent her my hand to pull her out of the dark water's depths. I had learned to swim in pain long long ago. And she grabbed on. As she did so I felt her pain, the horror of what her life had been. It was too much and I let go. The water overcame the small girl with red hair. Now all we have to remember her by is a bruise on my hand where she latched on trying to get pulled from her ocean of pain. That place where I was not strong enough to save the little girl.
The Girl With The Red Hair
March 22, 2010