The Girl on the Other Yard

Merry Glogmas abittersweetnote. I hope you can feel inspired by this elf girl and grace our little community with a blog of your own.

The Girl on the Other Yard

She was born in a painless labor last year. Yet, she can sing, run, and dance all night like a child in her tenth summer. Her mother, the old wife of a wealthy silk merchant, can't remember what she named her. She took that name name and hide it away.

The lass spends her days playing with other kids on her house playgrounds, at night she escapes to the forest and return the next day with her teeth covered in soot, feet stained with red mud and skin covered in a silver sheen.

Being an embodiment of youthful joy and innocence, The Girl attracts other kids by her presence alone. When she wishes to be left alone sings in a sorrowful tongue that drive people away for days. Parents no longer acknowledge her presence. The child is an imaginary friend, a ghost that steals cookies and milk, a noun whispered in fear.

Her staff is the branch of a peach tree that hung over a nameless grave. Nobody remembers who is buried there, but the date reveals a tragic tale, a life extinguished too soon, and rich parents that bury their child with all the toys and songs that would have surround them growing up.

When The Girl waves the branch, small objects are pull towards her and no adult can't hurt her physically or verbally for as long as she stare at them, unless they say the truth.

Every day the town grows quieter. Adult's don't remember why they yell a stranger's name at their doors before dinner or why they put an extra plate on the table. A truly miserable place a childless town is.