This is the beginning of a short story I'm currently working on to pass the time between major bursts of inspiration. There will be more coming, but I wanted to give my dear readers (the few I have right now) a teaser! :)
"I wonder who people see when they look at me. Do they see a lost, little girl stuck in a perpetual state of youthfulness? Do they see someone who is actually wise beyond her years? Probably not. No one ever sees the real you even if you reveal it to them. There's always another underlying part that would probably alter their entire view of you. They don't see that damage, the burnt ashes, of your life. Everyone regrets their scars. I don't. I regret the sticky residue left around the scar. The band-aid I so meticulously placed on my wounds in the futile hope that no one would ever see the mess I put myself in. The band-aid that, once a scar did form, I had to painfully rip off, leaving that blasted residue, and reminding me of the now healed wound. The scar just served as proof that my patchwork, bandage attempts had failed. That I had failed. No, I don't regret that jagged scar. I regret the hope I once had that I would be able to hide it, keep it from ever forming, and hide from everyone else the real me. I lost this hope with the unveiling of the scar. The hope that all began on that cold, October evening, just outside the town of Peace."
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