Who: Lydia and Sylvia
Where: The Ghost House
When: Evening
Lydia stood looking at the wall as she hummed softly, inspecting the slow progression of the mural before her. In her head, it was finished, but the energy it took to move the paintbrush made the process slow. Sometimes finger painting was easier. The left side of the room started with a dark forest, yellow eyes peering into the night, but then snow began to fall as she moved from one wall to another, putting the forest in winter. It ended in spring, all bright colors and sunshine.
She deemed the room hers, even if she couldn’t use almost anything in it. Sometimes she climbed into the big four poster bed and pulled the curtains closed, pretending to sleep. Once she ran the shower, stripped and stood under it, imagining herself clean. While she couldn’t change her clothes, she spent a good deal of time at the vanity, playing with her hair, trying out new styles before heading off to school. But today she was back to painting, the lullaby she sang wordless, barely a memory.
( mi casa es su casa ) |
