Board Thread:Short Stories and Fanfictions/@comment-43957690-20200202011114/@comment-43957690-20200208051351



Luzia always told Jess not to be vain. Her mother was constantly stealing her to stop stealing her jewelry. Why would she want to wear it if no-one would see her?

And Jessica would just smile to herself, and go to her room. And she’d stare at herself.

It was an odd vanity. She hated fancy clothing, and preferred to leave her hair unbrushed. But she was absolutely obsessed with accessories. Luzia had often scolded her for wearing beige frocks and grey leggings with her arms covered in bracelets and her neck dangling with about ten necklaces. Not to mention the rings.

She loved pretty things. She loved seeing them on her. Jess did not, however, like to be the pretty thing.

And she was starting to worry that that was wrong.

Did Troy like simple girls? Probably not… he was too amazing to settle for simplicity.

So Jess stared at herself. At her long black hair, smooth and silky, looking like ink pouring from a bottle, so long she could sit on the end of it if she wanted to. He skin was a creamy brown, and usually was clean of any acne.

Through the silver of the mirror, Jess inspected herself. She had a roundish face, but also had a pointy chin. Was it too pointy? Did her ears stick out too much? Were her eyes too big? Too blue? Were her lips too thin? Was she pretty?

Was she?

Jess really liked Troy. She’d run into him three times since they first met. And she was 15 now. Was that old enough to like someone?

She managed to calm herself by remembering that each time they’d met, he had seemed happy to see her. She even met his parents once- on accident, by clumsily bumping into them while she wasn’t looking- but still.

“Jessica, what did I tell you about staring at yourself?”

Jess jumped in her seat. She hadn’t seen Luzia standing in her doorway. “Sorry.”  She quickly backed away from the mirror. Luzia stared at the floor, seemingly lost in though. She stared for a long time, until Jessica had the boldness to ask her,

“Am I pretty?”

Her mother cocked her head, maybe smiling, maybe snarling. “What has you so concerned?”

Jess shrugged, and then realized that that wouldn’t do. “I just… I want to be pretty.” She thought about adding ‘Like you’ at the end, but that would be taking it too far.

Luzia smiled coyly. “Yes, you are pretty-looking. But I don’t want you to think about that. I want you to think about what you look like,” she stepped closer, and put a finger in the center of Jess’s chest “In here.”

Okay… but. “Everything in the Lost Cities is focused on looks. Why does inside matter if no-one cares about it?”

“That’s exactly why it matters.” Luzia told her. “If you don’t open a closet for a long time, what happens? Dust. Spiders. Mothballs. Yet, no-one cares about the closet, because you never see inside. It has a door. It can be easily forgotten. Because of this, the dust and spiders and mothballs happen. One day when you need to fetch a broom, you have an even bigger mess to deal with.”

Jess didn’t know what to say. Partially because she hadn’t been paying too much attention. But Luzia wasn’t done.

“That’s the problem with our world. We forget about the closet. As long as everything is pretty on the outside, we are content. Ignorant.” She looked at Jess, her eyes calculating. “I do not wish you to be this way. I want you to make a difference.”

“But how can I when I’m stuck in this house?”

But Luzia was leaving the room. “Soon, Jessica. Be patient.”

Jess had about had it with patience.