Pale Vanilla Lily

The next day, I looked but did not find the clumsy Lily. Her leaves were will hidden and tucked away. Not even the day after that did I find a glimpse of her petals. I began to think that maybe they didn't move in. I've been trying to carry on as if I had never seen her ,but that was wrong of me to think that as possible.

I am very full aware of how distasteful I am seen as, but I cannot help if I am a monster. Like a tumor it grows inside my brain. A choiceless factor of my being has singled me out and I wear my shame as a stigma. The greeks would burn or cut symbols in the foreheads of criminals to show others to stay away. Though I bare no scar, the mark above my eyebrows is there. I still feel a sting of twitch of pain from time to time.

You think I've never wondered of how to be normal? I've been trying to smother these demons out just to see that it was me I was trying to kill. There is nothing pretty about an American pedophile. I wish not for this disease.

On that note, no body ever asks the silly pedophile how he felt of himself. Just show their own disgust not knowing the true horror held in their heads. I cannot help this fact no more than a cosmo can help that it grows red. Also, for the record, I would never harm a little Fairy or Butterfly. I couldn't. I would break in two from the shock of self digression.

Oh, constantly I wonder where is the Lily? With her lazy limbs and unique skin discoloration? The soft vanilla of her face meets with the toffee brown in a broken, crooked way. One look around this apartment you can tell I've a thing for broken finds.

To keep my head afloat, I have been busy. I've cleaned the living area and finished three more paintings, which all had a common theme of lilies. Yesterday, I sold a few old paintings to a gallery about four blocks from Sundayle. Even fixed a broken leg on a dark, wooden, five-foot, wardrobe. Tomorrow, I should take it down to Tom's shop and sell that to him. It has been a very busy two days with little sleep.

The living area now held only one table, three matching chairs, and a huge vanity mirror hung on the wall behind the table. This last item had recently been painted black due to the fact that I was sick of looking into it. All I saw was a scruffy, elbow dark brown beard accompanied with greek curly hair that knew no rules. My eyes were a frozen grey, but were not originally. Perhaps this change happened over time. Or maybe a side effect of my lineless life. Whatever the cause, the aftermath is near unbearable to look at. I've wilted like a flower and hardened into the texture of a jagged rock.
I scratched my beard getting frustrated and frowned. The layout of my apartment aggravated me. Not sure what was wrong, but it was obvious. My eyes scanned all over not sure of the flaw in the room. Perhaps it was simply imbalanced.

Done thinking of it I shrugged my shoulders then began to gather up a night stand with chipped paint and a missing knob to put in my van. Figured I should take it to the shop and fix it up for sale. Probably not a good idea to sell this to Tom but set it up in my own instead. I opened the front door and began exiting the night stand through the opening. Somewhere in that time I must have misjudged the width of the furniture and distance from the door because I banged my hand harshly and dropped the night stand cracking it's legs.

"Fuck!"

I screamed obscenities until I saw the blood chase down. It incased almost two of my fingers, but it was not broken. My voice reached out some more. It touched the corners of the hallway and down the staircase rolling onto the marble floors at the end. Looking at the lost profit made my veins fill with fire. The pain drove my anger through the roof. My foot kicked in the night stand until it was only splinters in the doorway. My breath quickened and chest tightened into weaves restricting my heart from leaping out of my rib cage.

The rise of pain in my hand brought me to the front door. I blinked four times before really seeing the gathering of broken wood shards scratching up the wooden floors inside. The antique table laid still staring up pushing guilt onto my conscious. I kicked most of the chunks back into the apartment feeling heavy coal replace my insides. Looking around I spotted the trash can and began shoving the now debree into the bag with my good hand.

After that I rinsed my hands of blood then went to take the trash to the dumbster. I cursed myself the whole way as my hand swelled in pain. Felt like a complete idiot, but the anger was dying down. I ran down the stairs quickly taking tight turns. The plastic trash bag I was holding began to rip so I quickened my pace to make it to the dumpster in time. I was almost at the exit when it broke open spilling onto the floor.

"Ah! What a mess!" A woman yelled in a strange accent compared to us Plain Jane Americans. "Clarence! Get out here!"

I looked up to see a fit, slightly aging woman with one hand on her hip and the other crushing the waist of a cigarette. She was standing in front of her open apartment door. When I peered inside I saw boxes stacked all over. She was the woman. The mother. I smiled big towards her not actually looking at her. Could this mean that the damaged lily hides inside there?

"Clarence, help this man pick up this trash! Now or we will be late!" She went through the door to hurry the man and came out clipping on earrings. She wore a tight layered green dress and held her brown hair in a bun guarded by a golden band. Her mouth had light wrinkles that laid on each corner. The man looked a lot like Lurch from The Addam's Family. He had to duck his head coming out the door because of his height.

"Why, no need. I can get it. " My feet had then awakened and regained the ability of movement. I started to help this man named Clarence with the mess I made wondering where the Lily was.
"Hurry I said, Clarence, not take a stroll. " The woman spoke with an accent that I couldn't quite place at the time. The man looked grumpy as he rebagged the night table and through it over his back.

"You are the one who is behind. I'll be starting the car before you make it out of that spot. " Clarence spoke in the same accent as he walked to toss the trash in the dumpster. The woman shook her head obviously upset.

"That damned man will be the death of me." Without even glancing my way she flaunted off after the man muttering angrily.

I looked back towards the apartment door and saw the door was still cracked. Every part of me wanted to go inside and find her, but that would be inproper. If she saw a fuzzy faced unknown man walk into her room she'd be fearful of me for life. I must earn her trust another day. Slowly, I closed the door to make less noise as possible. My lungs struggled to take in air so, I stood still until my heart regained it's strength.

"Goodbye, little Pale Vanilla Lily. " I smiled dreaming of the foreign wonder then returned to my apartment.