UNTITLED

UNTITLED

Camille Daley

8 th Grade • Lane Tech

She was turning 77.

The wrinkles in her face were crafted at a careful pace, she was a work of art. From every light and angle one could spot a different indent that was revolving around her core facial figures.

The lines worked together as the lights in Van Gogh’s painting. Her bright coffee colored eyes sagged, and the whites were no longer white, but a light pink yellow that with age had developed. She would rarely open her mouth unless to speak, or more so, mumble a joke or concern, due to the embarrassment she felt of her false teeth. Her hair was cut into a short, professional bob that could almost be considered a bowl cut. She hated it. Her hands were shaking. The worn knuckles had expanded to a great size due to arthritis, and her skin had become thinner and thinner to expose the purple and blue veins underneath, which constantly popped out. Her long fingers were never barren, and always had some sort of silver ring as decoration. Each delicately crafted finger was ended with precise, clean and long fingernails. Similar to her mouth, she was ashamed of her hands and veiny, thin arms, and would constantly cover herself with long sleeves and jewelry. Her body was poorly misshapen from the abuse of southern food and illness. Her broad stomach and chest would droop towards the ground, while her arms were thin, and lacked any strength. Her

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grand upper body was carried upon two stick thin legs, and two tiny feet. This caused her to take delicate, small steps in order to keep her balance. From the way she carried herself, one would predict that she held dignity and wisdom close to her soul, but she was a childish Cancer whose biggest concern was giving out snacks. Her withered, elegant body slowly wandered towards the door.

Beautiful creatures must be protected.

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