Submission: “Freedom To” by Leslie

This uniquely-formed story by Leslie, age fifteen, is divided into six snippets representing different things that we need freedom for. 

 

“Freedom To”

I. be beautiful

She averts her eyes as she walks past the mirror, unwilling to see the face that would look back. But there is nothing wrong with her; she is no less beautiful than everybody else. She would not believe it if you told her, though. Images have been drilled into her head since she was young, images of what she now thinks she should look like.

But they aren’t really all that beautiful, the people she idealises – they are changed by surgery and covered in what is surely a pound of makeup. That is not something she should ever do, because it would not look good on her. She is ideal the way she is, and any change would make her be imperfect, impure.

But as long as she cares, she will never be free of the chains that bound her. She will always be stuck fighting a battle she cannot win, a battle that will leave her weary and broken. She cannot win until she sees herself the way she is – a beautiful girl trapped in a not-so-beautiful world.

 

II. love

She glances over at the man across the room, who glances back with a smirk. She glares at him in a way that would surely melt the ice caps; if she had really meant it, of course.

Because it is all a façade, really. She has no love for the man who sits beside her; the man that she calls husband. They were put together to make a child who could sing, a talent that she and her partner share. They had no choice in the matter – it was their duty. They were doing their part to make the world a better place.

But as her eyes meet his once more, she could not help but wonder what it would have been like to choose the one she would spend her life with – to choose the one she would love.

 

III. be loved

The unnamed baby cries in the orphanage, not wanted by anyone. Baby continues to cry for a while, before a young worker comes and angrily stuffs a bottle in her mouth. Then Baby will be silent.

She will be silent for a while; it will be a long time before she learns to talk. After all, there will be no one to talk to her, so she will have no one to learn from. She will then be ridiculed by the workers, be known as just another girl who cannot speak, just another one of the countless girls whose parents cannot be found, most likely killed by war.

As she grows up, Baby will never be loved by anyone. She will miss out on the shoulders to cry on, the hugs and kisses; she will have no one to cheer her on. She will be miserable.

But that is not how it should be. She should be removed from where she is and given to a family, to people who can treat her right.

Because no one can grow up properly without love.

IV. play

The sun is setting as she returns to her house; a small, rundown hut that is the home of seven people. She longs to play with her doll, and yet she still has to cook dinner for her brothers and sisters.

At twelve, she is the head of the house. Her parents died of AIDS, and her older brother ran away, no doubt to escape the burden that would have been placed on his shoulders. Sometimes, when she thinks about him she gets angry. Other times she wishes she could do the same.

But she will not, of course, there are too many people depending on her. They would all starve if she were to stop going out to the fields each day, salvaging whatever harvest leftovers she can find.

But as it is, after she dishes some out to everyone, there is none left for her. That night, by the light of the moon, she plays with her homemade doll Kya, trying to ignore the growling in her stomach.

Wishing she could play more often.  

 

V. choose your friends

She tries desperately to fit in. It’s hard, as their personalities are nothing like hers. But she has to try. After all, how else will she be invited to the parties she wants to go to? How else will she been viewed the way she wants to be viewed? Yes, life is difficult for someone who needs to be someone they aren’t.

She wishes she could tell them all how much she loves to draw; she never will, though, they would look down on it. There are so many other things, better things that she could be doing. She should learn to dance, she thinks. Then she would have more friends.

Maybe she would have more friends if she learned to dance; there would be all the other girls who do it too, whom she would be able to relate to. But she would not love them as much as she should love a friend.

Because she really hates dancing. It’s not who she is. But if she was herself, she would need different friends, she would not keep the same ones.

She can’t choose her friends. They come with her ‘personality.’ That’s just the way it is.

 

VI. be accepted

The corner store is closed when she gets to it; she should not be surprised, because after all, it’s late. But the one on the other side of the street is open; why isn’t hers?

And she can’t walk on that side of the street. This side, yes, but not that one. It belongs to someone else.

She briefly considers crossing. It would not be too terrible. The man in the store would say nothing, as he probably needs a paying customer.

But she will not go. It isn’t worth the risk. She would not put her life in danger for a drink; she isn’t that thirsty yet.

She sighs, and wonders if life somewhere else would be better. Somewhere away from the gangs and the fights.

But she will never leave. It is her life; it has been, is, and probably always will be.

She turns around dejectedly and starts walking back home. Maybe she’ll just have water.

 

 © Leslie, 2008