Post by DJ on Mar 20, 2008 18:04:16 GMT -5
Estee stared. Out the window, over the rolling paddocks. She fell backwards onto the full sized bed. The comforter padded her flop, but it was still uncomfortable here. How could she do that? I just can’t understand.
Estee was living in Hope’s guest room for a while, at least until she could find somewhere else to go. It was a lovely house and the people were kind, but it wasn’t home. It wasn’t correct to leave your room a mess. Unlike home, Estee attempted to be polite, but it was so different here. It wasn’t her usual lifestyle and the changes scared her. But here she was. Staring at the light colored ceiling of a bedroom she was having trouble calling her own.
“God. I want to go see Glow.” She’d settled her gelding in for the day and ended up leaving sooner than she’d expected. All of the people made her uncomfortable. With her looks and personality, it wasn’t hard for her to understand why she didn’t have many friends.
She twisted, lying on her stomach now, staring at the headboard of the bed. She crawled up to it. The teenager reached up, tracing each of the carved horse and leaf designs, thinking as her finger ran across the smooth, polished wood. Her pale face contrasted against her dark, very-close-to-black hair. It was visibly black in anything but bright sunlight, which caused her red highlights to show. It fell, straightly to her shoulders, in a spiked type cut, unevenly trimmed at the bottom. She adored the cut, but it forced her to look ‘emo’ a style she didn’t believe in, but one many people stereo-typed and hated. Her dark punk-type eyeliner shaped her bright brown eyes, and her dark jeans she was currently wearing seemed to constrict her legs, tight all of the way to her ankles.
She turned, resting her back on the wooden board and continued to stare out the window, mesmerized by a trotting horse in a sandy jumping arena. A girl was posting rhythmically. Without noticing, Estee rocked lightly, in time with the posting, wishing she could be out there right now in the warm sun. Glow, she saw, had his neck arched over the round pen fence, sniffing noses with a pinto, trying to make friends. Why can’t I be like him, she asked herself, wishing she was more trusting and friendly. Even more comfortable around people in general. With better social skills.
Estee stepped off of the bed, traveling to her messenger-type bag in the corner on a suede chair. She lifted the flap, pulling out her sketch pad and journal, as well as a plastic container she’d kept her traveling art stash in. She climbed back onto the bed, leaning against a pillow she’d propped up, and flipped open her sketch pad, twisting the used pages back behind the new ones of the wire-bound book. She rubbed one eye before opening her plastic container, grabbing a simple HB sketching pencil from the mix of different hardnesses and charcoals, as well as colored pencils and a few, rapidly shrinking pastels. She loved adding color with her oily pastels.
One talent she’d found she had was an art talent. With a photographic memory, Estee was great at copying landscapes, people, and animals. She struggled with architecture without a reference photo, but the overall drawing looked nice even when the building did anything but support the actual look of the real structure. She laid the tip of her pencil on the paper and began sketching, creating a horse. The horse she imagined had a face of wanting. Standing in the paddock alone, the equine looked depressed, and lonely, but yet still had pride like she didn’t want to give-up just yet. Estee drew her thoughts and figured the equine was an abstract self-portrait of herself.
She flipped her notebook closed, wanting to go see Glow. He’ll comfort me. She slipped off her skinny jeans and tugged on her tan breeches. Her skinny body fit them nicely, filling out the curves smoothly, but not bulging awkwardly. She stripped from her graphic tee, slipping into a plain tee, just a simple black. It looked simple and smooth, fitting her teenage body easily, and she zipped her boots slowly, gaining the courage to actually go out in public. With people.
She stood in the doorway for a moment. Before taking her first step out.
Estee was living in Hope’s guest room for a while, at least until she could find somewhere else to go. It was a lovely house and the people were kind, but it wasn’t home. It wasn’t correct to leave your room a mess. Unlike home, Estee attempted to be polite, but it was so different here. It wasn’t her usual lifestyle and the changes scared her. But here she was. Staring at the light colored ceiling of a bedroom she was having trouble calling her own.
“God. I want to go see Glow.” She’d settled her gelding in for the day and ended up leaving sooner than she’d expected. All of the people made her uncomfortable. With her looks and personality, it wasn’t hard for her to understand why she didn’t have many friends.
She twisted, lying on her stomach now, staring at the headboard of the bed. She crawled up to it. The teenager reached up, tracing each of the carved horse and leaf designs, thinking as her finger ran across the smooth, polished wood. Her pale face contrasted against her dark, very-close-to-black hair. It was visibly black in anything but bright sunlight, which caused her red highlights to show. It fell, straightly to her shoulders, in a spiked type cut, unevenly trimmed at the bottom. She adored the cut, but it forced her to look ‘emo’ a style she didn’t believe in, but one many people stereo-typed and hated. Her dark punk-type eyeliner shaped her bright brown eyes, and her dark jeans she was currently wearing seemed to constrict her legs, tight all of the way to her ankles.
She turned, resting her back on the wooden board and continued to stare out the window, mesmerized by a trotting horse in a sandy jumping arena. A girl was posting rhythmically. Without noticing, Estee rocked lightly, in time with the posting, wishing she could be out there right now in the warm sun. Glow, she saw, had his neck arched over the round pen fence, sniffing noses with a pinto, trying to make friends. Why can’t I be like him, she asked herself, wishing she was more trusting and friendly. Even more comfortable around people in general. With better social skills.
Estee stepped off of the bed, traveling to her messenger-type bag in the corner on a suede chair. She lifted the flap, pulling out her sketch pad and journal, as well as a plastic container she’d kept her traveling art stash in. She climbed back onto the bed, leaning against a pillow she’d propped up, and flipped open her sketch pad, twisting the used pages back behind the new ones of the wire-bound book. She rubbed one eye before opening her plastic container, grabbing a simple HB sketching pencil from the mix of different hardnesses and charcoals, as well as colored pencils and a few, rapidly shrinking pastels. She loved adding color with her oily pastels.
One talent she’d found she had was an art talent. With a photographic memory, Estee was great at copying landscapes, people, and animals. She struggled with architecture without a reference photo, but the overall drawing looked nice even when the building did anything but support the actual look of the real structure. She laid the tip of her pencil on the paper and began sketching, creating a horse. The horse she imagined had a face of wanting. Standing in the paddock alone, the equine looked depressed, and lonely, but yet still had pride like she didn’t want to give-up just yet. Estee drew her thoughts and figured the equine was an abstract self-portrait of herself.
She flipped her notebook closed, wanting to go see Glow. He’ll comfort me. She slipped off her skinny jeans and tugged on her tan breeches. Her skinny body fit them nicely, filling out the curves smoothly, but not bulging awkwardly. She stripped from her graphic tee, slipping into a plain tee, just a simple black. It looked simple and smooth, fitting her teenage body easily, and she zipped her boots slowly, gaining the courage to actually go out in public. With people.
She stood in the doorway for a moment. Before taking her first step out.