I can’t remember how I got into my current frame, how I became the girl in the mirror. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t born here. Pretty sure I’m real, not manufactured or conjured from nothing. The queen’s never been specific, but I get the impression I was collateral - kidnapped in revenge for some perceived slight. Probably someone said she wasn’t the most beautiful woman in the world. The queen is petty like that. Vindictive. Vain.
My earliest memories are all from within the four gilt borders of my frame. Of my life before, I remember nothing. Well, almost nothing: snippets of lullaby come to me sometimes in a language I no longer understand and haven’t heard on the shores of this kingdom; the smell of jasmine makes me want to cry, but I don’t understand why. And yes, I can smell. It’s odd, what I can and can’t do. I can move frame, but I can’t leave the frame all together. I can smell, but I can’t taste, see but can’t touch. My senses feel stunted. Undeveloped. I hear everything and everyone, but only one person can hear my responses.
And most of the time she acts as though I’m not even there.
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