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Writing > Users > Sylavash > 2008

Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction


The following is a piece of writing submitted by Sylavash on April 19, 2008
"A short story of a little girls self image. a project for college. "

Freckled

Isabel stands on a stool and stares at her reflection in the bathroom mirror while she brushes her hair. She is short for her age, the shortest girl in class. Her hair is red and curly, and freckles cover her nose. She gets teased about her freckles at school, and her nick name is “Red”. She jumps off the stool and puts her brush in the drawer. She skips down the hallway to her room and turns on the lamp by her bed. She pulls a small book out from underneath her pillow and takes a pen from the stand. She chews the tip as she thinks of what to tell her diary today.
“Dear Diary,
School was hard today. In Art Tommy drew a picture of me and dotted the face with a red marker. Every one laughed at it when he showed it to the class, I was so hugemilliated. I hate my freckles.”
She closed her Diary and stuffed it beneath her pillow, as her mom walked in the room. “ready for bed Isabel?” she asked.
“Yup!” she responded, as she climbed beneath the covers. “Mom, can you teach me how to wear make up?”
“Some day dear, but you don’t need it yet.” Her mother kissed her forehead. “You’re beautiful just being my little girl”
“Why do you wear make up but I can’t? Why not, I got these ugly freckles all over my face,” she whined, pointing at her cheeks.
Stifling a laugh, her mom brushed some hair off Isabel’s forehead. “Freckles make you very special. When I was growing up I wanted them so much, that is one reason I like your Dad. His freckles are so cute in the summer time” She adjusted Isabel’s blankets and stood up. “Go to sleep. After school tomorrow we can play with some of my old make up and dress up all pretty for supper.”
Excited, Isabel smiled and curled up under the covers. “Good night mom”
“Good night dear.” Her mom turned off the light and walked to the door, she swung it around leaving it slightly ajar.
Isabel slept and she dreamed that night that she did not have freckles. She dreamed was blond and that she was as tall as everyone else. Yet when she awoke, she was still freckled little Isabel.
The next morning, when Isabel hopped off the bus, she ran to the playground to meet the rest of the kids. “Red!” said one of the girls, seeing her approach. “Race you to the teacher,” she called as she ran across the playground ahead of Isabel. Isabel took the challenge and ran to catch up to the girl, cutting between the swings and under the slide. From here, she saw the teacher, and her shortcut would win her the race if she could jump over the sand box without falling in. Taking a leap off the edge of the sandbox Isabel flew through the air and landed upon the far edge of the box. Balancing on the wood edge, she shifted her weight and continued her run. Isabel slid to a stop a few inches from the teacher, and her opponent came panting up behind her.
Cheers came from behind the teacher as the kids from class congratulated her win. “Red! Red! Red!” “You win again!” “You’re the fastest in the school” “You were just a red blur when you run!” “You flew across the sand box!”
Isabel realized that even if she was short, had red hair and freckles, people loved her the way she was. Still, playing with mom’s make up tonight might be fun.

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