It’s short story time!

If you’ve been up to your eyeballs in Christmas decorations recently, this very short story may inspire you to look at things just a little bit differently!

All Dressed Up

Immobile, I stand watch over my surroundings.

My eyes never close. My stance never changes. I am always aware.

I cannot speak yet I can hear and see. I cannot touch yet I can feel.

I yearn to scream, to reach out, to make myself heard. Impossible, since I will never be free of the binds that confine me to this fate.

How I long to feel the sensation of touch; to trail a fingertip along the surface of one of the petals of the poinsettia plant beside me. So delicate in appearance yet such strength and vitality in its growth. I have memorized the intricate web of veins etched into each leaf and petal; the blend of jade, lime and crimson stippled with shadows and light.

I sense the powerful resonance of your music as it seeps its way into my being. It makes me want to move, to sway, to leap with every vibration.

I smell the enticing aromas of your kitchen as they drift and curl around me in torturous wisps of temptation. I watch you partake; my hunger is also my anguish.

So weary am I of observing, of desiring. How I long to live as you do, to experience all that I watch you take for granted.

Yet remain here I will, for as long as you will have me; standing still and silent until you grow tired of me.

Can you see the tears in my eyes? Of course not. For I cannot cry.

I am nothing but a Christmas ornament—an elegant glass figurine that decorates your mantle.

As you pause to study me, to admire my flawless beauty, I invite you to look a little closer.

Try to see the invisible tears of one who lives dormant and lonely.

 

 

 

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