Doll of dirt

The sound of rain... silent, icicles of sweat where
her silken hair should be. The food was part of the earth now, in vain she tried not to eat, but her body was stronger than her, she would not let herself go that easily.

She knew the days, because she could hear the outside,
but she had no idea how long it was. It was a square room, oddly cornered, as if the carpenter made up his mind to make it too late. It was stone and brick, no floor
but solid dirt, which with the morning dew, would always
be cold and damp. Sometimes little critters would come in
from the little crevices and holes, she would not wave away. She was alone, but she wasn't lonely.She did not feel isolated because this was all she had ever known. like clockwork, from a small, box-like slit in the floor, a mechanical pulley would bring up a tray of food. It was cold, which changed the taste of the food to the same condition everytime, she dreamed of the day when a slice of meat would not have the texture of grilled rubber.

The dirt was a blanket, for her it was warm and it soothed
the sting that came from wounds, caused by her scrathing on her unbathed body. The only water she recieved was with her meals, she saved it carefully because for only two meals a day, her throat calmed with a few drops in between, that was how she became quenched.She spoke softly because, the louder sounds
scared her, so now even her high- pitched voice was drowned to a lull whispering that only the night and she could hear.

By the sound of the roosters caws, she would open her eyes, looking at the nearest corner to to the dark lump,it would move and turn raising eyes, and greeting with a warm smile.The girl would turn in her blanket and slowly hide her face. She would hear the noise her roomate made and giggle, then she would pull the blanket away in a brusque motion and peek- a- boo her roomate into a laughing fit. When it was time to freshen up, her roomate needed help primping up, the girl with fragile movements,
would move her hands around the mate and make her prettier than before.

But short it seemed that they would spend their time, the girl was sick. She hid it from her roomate, but they both knew, time was jeweled and it was corroding. Everyday, the girl struggled to wake up, sometimes she didnt;the roomate would grow worried but she wouldnt move until the girl came to play with her.

A block of light came from the stone and brick linings of the room, the roomate saw various faces unknown and hysterical,from where she was kneeling next to the girl. The latter holding their noses between their hands and looking in a mix of horror and the girl sorrow in their eyes.

The girl's hand was almost inside of the roomate's hold, it was as if it was covering it. You could see from the quiet reflection that the roomate made in the girl's eyes, that she had made her with an artist's precision. The variety of crowds going in made the roomate cover her friend from view, a push that tumbled the girl's work. It would seem to the ignorant eye that the girl was dead under a pile full of dirt.