Free

She awoke in stages. She heard the birds chattering outside first before she felt the warm sun on her face. She caught the brush of silk on her skin and wondered where she was. Then she opened her eyes, saw the painting on the wall and remembered. She was on set, yet another one chosen for her. She sighed, climbed down from the bed and staggered to the bathroom. The image of herself in the mirror made her stop. A stranger stared back at her. She had piled her hair up and managed to remove her makeup before falling facedown on the bed after the previous day’s shot. Little strands escaped and framed her face now. A look at the painting showed a beautiful woman, one who understood the extent of her beauty and knew how to use it. The wide eyes on the smooth oval face, the painted full lips with a small dip on top, one she had gotten from her mother. Thoughts of her mother made her wince. She was here because of her benevolence, as she called it. “We’ve come so far for you to embarrass me now. Don’t be ungrateful,” her mother had said. So she had dressed for the camera like she always did. But here in this room, staring back at her, was her real self. She had thought it a stranger for too long. She had learned to refrigerate spoons for the dark circles under her eyes. She mastered the art of masking her person because it was demanded and expected of her. Today, she intended to take charge of her life. Maybe when she began to live for herself, her eyes wouldn’t be so sad anymore. Thinking about freedom, she closed the bathroom door quietly behind her.

My entry for Foxtales' One Paragraph Flash Fiction Contest. View here

Image is from the original post.