Just wanted to let you know that your writing brings me so much joy. Which is a rare thing, because I’m very badly depressed, but I seek out your stories for some happiness now and then.
Anon, this message is so kind. I'm crying.
Things will get better, friend. I promise. Always remember, depression is a liar. You are worthy and wonderful.
I've written some stuff lately, I hope I get the courage to post some stuff later this year.
But I have a gift for you. @cedakotes drew a little sketch of Froggy for me a few months ago and I wrote a story to go with it. I never posted it here, but I hope it brings you some joy.
Froggy twisted another piece of hair down as water dripped down her fingers. Water she had used to slick down the unruly, bushy strands down to her scalp. Carefully, she placed the last crystal butterfly clip into place, making sure it was locked firmly into her hair. She took a deep breath and looked into the mirror.
Hair was already escaping out of the first clip, looking like bug antennas, the rest of her hair had gone bushy, like it always did. Big and bushy and not pretty like Cricket or Mama or Grandmother’s hair. Frustration and shame built in her chest as tears began to flow from her eyes. And her nose. Froggy slammed the comb into the sink as she sank down to the floor to cry. Like a big, dumb baby.
“Oh, darling, what’s wrong?”
Mama was at the door, already on her knees and Froggy crawled toward her open arms and lap. Mama’s hair looked like golden clouds, all wavy and perfect, and that made Froggy cry even harder.
“I’m so ugly,” Froggy howled into Mama’s chest, wetting her nice silk dress with tears and snot. “My hair looks like ugly branches and it’s just ugly brown and not red and it’s not faaaiiirrrrr!”
“No, your hair is beautiful.” Mama pushed Froggy’s hair off of her neck, which was getting sweaty. “You’ve put it in little twists!” Mama touched the ruined row or twists on her scalp gently.
“I should just cut it all off,” Froggy grumbled, “My hair looks like a broom. It’s bushy and ugly. Everyone has better hair than me.” She bit her lip, trying to stop another wave of tears from escaping.
Mama kissed her wet cheeks, “Your hair does not look like a broom and it’s not ugly brown. It’s beautiful. It gets golden in the sunlight and I love the way it curls when you tie it up with a ribbon. You just have so much of it, that it just gets unruly. You had so much, even when you were a baby.”
“Cricket has a lot of hair too, but it’s perfect. She doesn’t do anything and it’s always perfect!” Froggy pouted. She had to sit for hours getting her hair brushed while Cricket rode around on horses without getting so much as a snarl. One time, when Aunt Nesta was brushing her hair, the comb broke in half. And Uncle Cass called her Froggy-Bear and teased her for weeks about it.
“Oh, you stop,” Mama chided, “I have to fight Cricket to bathe, don’t forget.” Froggy suppressed a snort.
Froggy reached for the glossy sheet from the fashion catalogue that Aunt Mor gave her. She saw the clips on the drawing of an advertisement and she wanted to try it herself. It had taken her all morning. “I saved all my money for the clips and you can’t even see them,” Froggy hiccuped.
Mama laughed, “I can see them, pink, green, blue, orange,” she tapped each one, “All your favorite colors.”
Froggy bit her lip, “You can?”
Mama nodded, “I think your hair looks beautiful and I want you to keep it down for the rest of the day. Grandmother wants to go down to the market. Maybe we can find some more clips, hmm?”
With one final, shuddering breath, Froggy nodded, “Okay, I will.”
She hauled herself back up, looking into the mirror. Her hair still looked bushy but she could see the clips if she squinted. But she could hardly squint because her face was so puffy and swollen from crying. Mama wiped her face down with a cool, wet cloth and a tingle of something, erasing all traces of her tears. So, Froggy grabbed Mama’s hand as they made their way into the parlor, where her sister and grandmother were waiting.
“Cyra, you’re wearing your hair down!” Grandmother gasped, “You look so lovely. You always put it up.” Grandmother stroked her hair with her soft hands.
“Hey, where did you get those clips?” Cricket demanded.
“At the market last week.”
Cricket narrowed her eyes, “I wanna borrow them,”
“No, Cricket,” Mama said firmly, “you have your own money. You can buy your own.”
Cricket grumbled, “Fine. But teach me how to do that twist thing. It looks cute.” She grabbed Froggy’s hand as they made their way into the courtyard.
“Really?” Froggy said, feeling lighter, “You think so?”
“You look like those drawings in Aunt Mor’s magazines,” Cricket exclaimed.
Froggy just smiled and laughed.
romaincrisis
snowghoul
2087
