Out The Glass Window
I never had a normal childhood; I’ ve always been imprisoned as long as I can remember. My life revolved around one thing and one thing only, satisfying my duties as the princess of my country. I looked out my glass window; I instantly smelled the roses that were as red as velvet outside in my window box. They were in full bloom and their aroma captured my lonely soul. The sun shone on my window, leaving a faint shine in my dark and solitary room. But the aroma of the glamorous roses and the shine of the perfect summer sun could only be witnessed through my clear glass window. I saw the children of my countless maids running around in the sparkling green grass that shone beautifully with the sun’ s shine. They were having the time of their lives in the perfect summer weather. I wish I could be out there, enjoying the childhood I never had. The field, I desired to be in it. I wanted my childhood, I wanted my freedom. I turned away from my glass window and walked over to the light switch and turned on the artificial light. I turned around again to see out of my glass window. The beauty of the summer tempted me to go outside. To smell the thick aroma of the countless flowers in the gardens, to stand in the sunlight instead of under a chandelier, to be able to run around in the green field, to be able to have the long desired childhood that had been taken away from me. I’ d trade all my dresses and riches to go to the other side of my glass window. The temptation heated my body and tortured my mind. I mustn ' t, I couldn’ t. I closed the curtains and the view of the summer afternoon disappeared.
I abandoned my dark room. Even if the light was on, it was always dark in my eyes. I went downstairs and saw my mother in an elegant gown as usual, eating her dinner on a luxurious china plate. She gave me a sparkling smile, before inviting me to have dinner with her.
“ Daphne, I’ m so glad you could join me,” my mother told as I sat on a chair that matched the expensive table. Almost the whole house was white. Everywhere I turned was either white or grey. It was revolting. In the middle of the white table was a vase full of roses from the garden. These roses were the same kind as the ones in my window box, but these were dull, their aroma wasn’ t as rich as the ones outside the glass window. The roses on the other side of my window were a beautiful red, these looked pale, almost an ugly, blood red. They were horrendous in my eyes.
“ Daphne, Daphne, what is wrong?” my mother asked. My gaze switched over to my mother’ s blue eyes. One could get lost in those blue eyes of hers. When I was younger, her eyes glistened when I looked at them, but now, they were as dull as the bloody roses. The beholder of those dull blue eyes was the border between the other side of the window and me. The reason I can only experience a beautiful summer day by the faint sunlight that entered my room. She was the thief of my childhood.