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The Heart of a Feral- Part 2
The Heart of a Feral- Part 2

The Heart of a Feral- Part 2

BrokensoulBrokensoul

I like sweatshirts more than flowery blouses. Sweatpants or shorts more than dresses or miniskirts. Sneakers and flip flops are the only shoes I will ever wear. One time my mom bought me high heels and I put them through the woodchipper. I didn’t feel bad doing that because I took the pieces and finished the phone case I had been making for Hailey’s birthday. Classic Lionne, using shoes for other crap. Yeah, I think we all can tell my place in society. Oh well, at least I’m one of the only kids in the school who can make the claim that I have never had braces and don’t need them.

Hailey never wears things like me, she loves jeans and tank tops. Nope, not for me. I hate the feel of jeans and am very uncomfortable in tank tops. Maybe it’s since I’m the only girl in my school who is still only starting the journey of puberty. I often have boys and girls alike laughing at my 100 percent flat chest.

Everyone but me has an iPhone. I use the landline or my mac that my mom bought me out of sympathy. I’ve never used Instagram or snap chat or musical.ly. It’s just not my style. For fun I walk on the cliffs by my home, looking over the horizon and imagining I can see the lions in the world. The creatures I’m named after. The creatures who don’t have to worry about school girls and diva queens because they have their own lives and problems.

I’m here today, feet dangling over the sides, wind tousling my sun-kissed locks. Gold shimmers onto my face and I allow a small smile to form. It’s such a shame that people don’t appreciate nature as much. It’s so important and so beautiful. People treat it terribly. Poachers kill animals, people cut down trees… And all for what? Greed? There’s a sure chance of it.

Fall leaves flutter from the trees in swirling shades of yellows and browns and reds. I gaze with my gold-flecked eyes at the sky, it’s pale blue that shines for no one. Just because it does. The clouds that float by, bringing a promise of health and rejuvenation. Birds that fly away with a promise of return. They don’t do it because they are told to. They do it because of instinct. I wonder if humans have forgotten what that is…

I pick up my sketchbook and flip to the first empty page I find before slipping the pencil from behind my ear into my hand. I grip it softly, before placing it’s soft point to the thin, white paper. I love drawing, how pictures form. Pictures you didn’t even see until you did see them. Some lines become thin and some thick, it’s just your mind that controls it all.

Author Notes: Don't forget to read the first part and the next ones too!

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About The Author
Brokensoul
Brokensoul
About This Story
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All
Posted
8 May, 2019
Words
474
Read Time
2 mins
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