My World of Conceit

Leaves carried by the cool water swirled around my thin ankles as I carefully stepped between the sharp river stones. My skirts slowly slipped closer and closer to the water, so I snatched them quickly away to keep them from getting wet. As I bent my face closely to the clear water, I could barely make out the waving image of a small, violet, clam shell. But as I leaned down to get a closer view, my curly brown hair fell over my narrow shoulders and dropped down into the swift current. I flung my hair back over my shoulder with a frustrated flick of my head.

Staring back into the water, the vision of the shell faded in the background of my own reflection: a girl of nineteen. I tried to smooth out the frizzy, uncouth hair I had been given by my mother. My big blue eyes, compliments of my father, smiled back at me as I sought the perfect gaze to set upon the next handsome man I would pass in Ellendale. I pinched my cheeks to add a bit more color to the rosy hues that already blushed on them, which I had been told was all thanks to Grandmother Lybna. Licking my lips made them look like smooth, florid silk compared to the frayed fragments of a pink cocoon come from this dry, hot, summer air. This came from Aunt Freyda. My nose, I was told, was more like Grandfather Jossy’s: a bit turned up, but small and unblemished by freckles. The little chin that curved up smoothly to my ears also belonged to Grandmother Lybna, come to think of it. But no one could account for my pointed ears. To all, that was a mystery, which my parents made sure was never revealed to anyone outside our valley. I tucked my bushy brown hair behind them to look at them and puzzle over them, just as I always had.