Happiness I
“How do you inherit every trait from your mother?” I asked so, after starring at Sally for a long time in the dark, hollow, and cold staircase.
A simple question from simple speculation. Her mother, a decent, an honorable woman with a taste for Queen of Night Aria and a habit of listening to the Mozart Symphony, grew wealthy, and in the first flush of feeling that the music was hers, went to Germany. In consequence, her mother handed down to posterity her height of just under 160 cm and her tendency to be prepared at crucial moments, these two abstractions appearing in her daughter Sally. For many years she steadily grew up in the background of her family's life, an unassertive figure. That is to say…hmm…
Pounding heartbeat, being rapid and fluttering, started to fasten my bloodstream and consume my whole body. Maybe I now just past the point of no return. But why not?
I just wanted to paint it. I wanted to create a magical land full of glimmering rainbow unicorns, a glowing castle on the cloud, and growing four-leaf clovers jam-packing the green grassland with my own hands. I wanted to fill out the blank space with colors of red, green and pink. Above all, I wanted to use my brand-new pack of 64 Faber-Castel crayons. Colors were craving for freedom. The predestined emancipator was me.
Neverland was about to bloom from my fingertips. I took up the brush and went tranquilly to work. I began to think of the fun he had planned for this day. Soon the naked angels come wing in along on all sorts of exciting expedition. Then, with a chubby two hands, I enthusiastically draw a plane, planet, and pasta. Apparently, everything was fine until Sally interfered. Abruptly, she came out of her room and asked: “Sis, what are you doing?” Literally, She was walking across the living room toward me with a noble accuser’s face.
“Eh…” Mumbling the answer, I had no choice but to slip a crayon into her hand. “Will you join?” I asked. “No,” she answered. Clearly, everything was going wrong. Though something more was waiting for us because at the next moment, what I could only see was our mother’s face with outrage anger.
Slippers were all we got. Of course, the title of my crime was an act of vandalism and destroying family property. My sister, Sally, who unluckily had a crayon in her hand was also accused of the same charge. For the punishment, our beloved judge sentenced an expulsion, like Athens back in the Greek ages. After getting kicked out of the house, utter silence took over the whole atmosphere. The staircase was gloomy and freezing. I was too sorry to make a notion of an excuse for Sally. Maybe that is the reason why I had nothing to say. Instead, I started to pick up a few questions for a chat. The place was cold. I needed something to face fear. “Why don't we sing a song? Sunny?”
Sighing, I heard no answer replied. So, I made a final question. “How do you inherit every trait from your mother?” Said I, strolling forth and back towards the door that led to our home. “I also want to be a quiet, lovely person like her. It seems that, however, I failed, and you succeed. Maybe I am not her daughter. Am I?”
“I hate the way you talk about yourself, Sis,” Said Sally, slowly raising her head to the sky full of stars showing its light intermittently through the staircase window. “I believe that you are really a nice sister, but that you are thoroughly ashamed of your own virtues. You are an exceptional family member. You never stay quiet, well, but that is how you never speak out for the right thing. I admit that you are capricious, but that is the favorite part I love about you. You are creative and you are always busy making up new things that’ll make other people happy. That’s why your pessimism is simply a pose.” “Still, I know that doodling on the wall was stupid,” I cried. Suddenly a burst of laughter resonated in the staircase. Laughing, my mom and dad were there, glancing at us with affection. Two young girls dashed to the door together and found themselves in a big family hug. The starlight slipped over the gleaming marvels. I thought, ‘If I keep-up, maybe one day I would be a good sister.’ That night, the staircase was bitter and sweet..
A simple question from simple speculation. Her mother, a decent, an honorable woman with a taste for Queen of Night Aria and a habit of listening to the Mozart Symphony, grew wealthy, and in the first flush of feeling that the music was hers, went to Germany. In consequence, her mother handed down to posterity her height of just under 160 cm and her tendency to be prepared at crucial moments, these two abstractions appearing in her daughter Sally. For many years she steadily grew up in the background of her family's life, an unassertive figure. That is to say…hmm…
Perhaps I should not have tempted her.
Pounding heartbeat, being rapid and fluttering, started to fasten my bloodstream and consume my whole body. Maybe I now just past the point of no return. But why not?
I just wanted to paint it. I wanted to create a magical land full of glimmering rainbow unicorns, a glowing castle on the cloud, and growing four-leaf clovers jam-packing the green grassland with my own hands. I wanted to fill out the blank space with colors of red, green and pink. Above all, I wanted to use my brand-new pack of 64 Faber-Castel crayons. Colors were craving for freedom. The predestined emancipator was me.
Neverland was about to bloom from my fingertips. I took up the brush and went tranquilly to work. I began to think of the fun he had planned for this day. Soon the naked angels come wing in along on all sorts of exciting expedition. Then, with a chubby two hands, I enthusiastically draw a plane, planet, and pasta. Apparently, everything was fine until Sally interfered. Abruptly, she came out of her room and asked: “Sis, what are you doing?” Literally, She was walking across the living room toward me with a noble accuser’s face.
“Eh…” Mumbling the answer, I had no choice but to slip a crayon into her hand. “Will you join?” I asked. “No,” she answered. Clearly, everything was going wrong. Though something more was waiting for us because at the next moment, what I could only see was our mother’s face with outrage anger.
Slippers were all we got. Of course, the title of my crime was an act of vandalism and destroying family property. My sister, Sally, who unluckily had a crayon in her hand was also accused of the same charge. For the punishment, our beloved judge sentenced an expulsion, like Athens back in the Greek ages. After getting kicked out of the house, utter silence took over the whole atmosphere. The staircase was gloomy and freezing. I was too sorry to make a notion of an excuse for Sally. Maybe that is the reason why I had nothing to say. Instead, I started to pick up a few questions for a chat. The place was cold. I needed something to face fear. “Why don't we sing a song? Sunny?”
Sighing, I heard no answer replied. So, I made a final question. “How do you inherit every trait from your mother?” Said I, strolling forth and back towards the door that led to our home. “I also want to be a quiet, lovely person like her. It seems that, however, I failed, and you succeed. Maybe I am not her daughter. Am I?”
“I hate the way you talk about yourself, Sis,” Said Sally, slowly raising her head to the sky full of stars showing its light intermittently through the staircase window. “I believe that you are really a nice sister, but that you are thoroughly ashamed of your own virtues. You are an exceptional family member. You never stay quiet, well, but that is how you never speak out for the right thing. I admit that you are capricious, but that is the favorite part I love about you. You are creative and you are always busy making up new things that’ll make other people happy. That’s why your pessimism is simply a pose.” “Still, I know that doodling on the wall was stupid,” I cried. Suddenly a burst of laughter resonated in the staircase. Laughing, my mom and dad were there, glancing at us with affection. Two young girls dashed to the door together and found themselves in a big family hug. The starlight slipped over the gleaming marvels. I thought, ‘If I keep-up, maybe one day I would be a good sister.’ That night, the staircase was bitter and sweet..
[All is found]
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