Can you take this lonely girl?

And pick her up from off the ground?





The darkness was like an envelope that had been licked shut around her, trapping her with this stranger that she could barely see the face of. Shyra could see it was a woman, taller than herself which in Shyra’s eyes made her look like a god, towering above her. She shrinked slightly and felt her heart pounding against her chest like a drum. As an audience to these happenings, we would see that there was no reason for Shyra to be scared of Stella, especially with the following introductions and events, but that is our Privileged Spectator Viewing, like when we watch a film and know the plots, the sidelines, the thoughts going through other people’s heads. Yes, some people in Shaman possessed the ability to read these thoughts, but poor little Shyra was not one of them. She kept her lips tight shut, glued shut like this envelope of darkness as the woman spoke.


And as we can gather, there was nothing to be afraid of. As the woman had fallen into the water, the young platinum haired girl had moved forward to assist, but no sooner had she moved forward than she stepped back again as the taller arose. Another mumble of an apology bypassed her lips before she could stop it and she looks to the ground. Now there was nothing actually wrong with the girl’s face, it was sweet, not clichédly pretty, just cute. Her wide brown eyes forever displayed her fear that she felt for life and so as we c an only watch and cringe for her, we can actually feel relieved that this woman, affectionately named Stella, is not as scary as she thought.


The joke makes Shyra frown and she tries to smile, pale lips pulling into a strained gesture. Having lived so long in silence, she forgot what it was to laugh, to smile, to cry, to shout. Well, she knew how to shout, just had no control over when it happened. She glanced for a split moment at the woman and sees that she is in fact very pretty. To begin with, this makes her feel envious and she sighs, very softly, but then she realises it is only because she admires the woman. A woman with such feminine strength could only be good for her. Or so we would imagine. Her white teeth remind Shyra of the Cheshire Cat out of Alice in Wonderland, a book she had read often as a child. Like when she was young, it makes her want to grin to show her own teeth but that would involve her opening her mouth and so she just smiles softly again.


Shyra decides to stop stooping and raises to her fuller height, her back no longer aching with her looking like a gargoyle. She sees that she is actually not as small as she thought and this woman, Stella, no longer looks like a god. A small spark of confidence alights within the young girl and she steps a little closer so as to hear Stella better. Her wide brown eyes look down at the outstretched hand with her own pale fingers trace over. She knows not of this interaction. Her own little world does not grasp such a touch and so Shyra begins to tap her fingers lightly on the outstretched palm and she then looks up. The woman has asked her name and she coughs. A little tickle in the back of her throat. She parts her lips slowly and manages to mumble.


Shyra.


The tickle in her throat gets stronger and she snaps her mouth shut again. This was going to be very difficult without her little issue arising but she managed to say her name before it happened. Thank god, one for team Shyra. She smiles and lets her hand fall to her side again. This was the first interaction she’d had in a long time and so far, it was going well. So. Far.






There's no pride, to be found

When you follow sheep around...





Shyra Talownski