Beast and Beauty | Teen Ink

Beast and Beauty

December 18, 2021
By rosaliekalff BRONZE, Toronto, Ontario
rosaliekalff BRONZE, Toronto, Ontario
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The cold pours into every crack, my face dry from the stabbing winds. My body forces me forwards, leaves too damp to crunch, flattening unpleasantly as my boot finds them. I zip up my coat and force my chin inside lifting, my shoulders to let as much skin feel the warmth within my coat. My scarf wraps around me threateningly. I take my earbuds out and let the blasting music fade as I hear it quietly continue, thumping against myself. The crickets remind me of the darkness. I look into each window and glimpse into a life. 


A bench appears, a man  comfortably claiming it as his own. He sits up staring forwards. I catch his eyes as his body shifts to watch me. My body standing a little straighter. He shows me his disturbing smile. Teeth yellow and crooked. I can feel his hot breath on my skin. Thin, long hair shiny with grease. That stubble that give horrible goosebumps with every touch. A nose far too big for his little face. He continues smiling and I feel a thump in my head as uneasiness sets in. I pass him quickly, turning my head back to look at him one last time. His eyes lock into mine not letting them go, A smile still spread on his face.


“Freak” I whisper.

 

A woman turns the corner from a far, her scarf flying behind her. She takes little steps that seem to move her up more than forwards. Her resting face leaves a sour look. Yet she is beautiful. The way she carries her bag clutched at her side and her boots clinking. Her eyebrows furrow as her face worries at every noise. Her every move seems perfect, The tooth gap and upturned nose. I can imagine her smell. Clean and inviting. She begins smiling back at me. I brush my hand through my hair trying to rid any knots. But her eyes show something else, they aren't happy they stay wide and cautious. Am I making her nervous? The nervous of butterflies in your stomach. My insides light up. I want to speak. To hear her speak. To have a conversation, for us to connect. Yet my mouth cannot find the words. How do I stun this woman like she stunned me? I begin speaking but her voice whispers first. It creeps into me and pulls at the light inside of me. I feel my cheeks heat up as the embarrassment in the colour of pink fills my face.


“Freak,” She says quietly like it’s not meant to be heard. But I hear it.


The author's comments:

I am Rosalie, a 14 years old, born in England but grew up in Saudi Arabia for eight years before I moved to Canada. I have seen and grown up around many cultures that changed me into who I am today. Camping in the desert under the stars at age eight, to watching the snowfall around me.


Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.