Black and White

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 24; the Twenty-Fourth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for this month is BLACK AND WHITE.

She walked down the bustling sidewalk of the colony, a skip in her merry step, a bounce to her perfect brunette curls. The sun shone off her flawless skin, accentuating the green in her almond, hazel eyes. The smile broadened on her pink lips as she twirled past a group of rope hopping girls. "Hello Ma'am! How do you do today?" she greeted the elderly neighbour with a slight curtsy. The old lady beamed at the beautiful girl, thinking back to her younger days when she was as perfect. She moved along the path, stopping a little while to pick a bunch of wild tiny purple flowers growing by the sidewalk. For her sweet mother maybe? Or a sweetheart waiting at home? Or maybe for that cute little baby brother she had waiting for him? Who knows what merry thoughts were going on in her mind. A beautiful mind. Rearranging the tiny petals into a perfect bunch, she walked up the walkway of her tiny house with a glow in her face.

She opened the door of the house, and shut it very quietly as not to startle the passer-bys. Didn't want drawing attention. As usual, the house was dark and had a repulsive, acidic odour of unwashed clothes. Piles of dirty dishes were lying in odd places with rotten food crusted to their sides. The T.V. blared full volume. A dog whimpered in the corner of the living room, starved for food. She threw the flowers at his upturned nose and kicked him away. She could hear her baby brother crying upstairs as usual. Her mother was probably drunk passed out on the floor somewhere. She opened the door to her bedroom and the stink of rotting food was stronger here. Food that has been stashed into corners to avoid the eye of her medical examiner who checked in once in a while. There were clothes strewn all over the floor, with a clutter of cheap makeup accessories and empty bottles of pills covering every available space. Striding in, she pushed the play button on a battered CD-player, bursting the room with hard metal. She pulled off her wig of perfect curls and threw it on the unmade bed, with sheets that hasn't been changed in months. The music grated on her nerves, like chalk on a black board. Pulsating down her spine with cold cubes of hate. She scratched down her face, a thick layer of foundation peeling off under her fingernails. She wanted to scream ravenously , to hit her head against the wall to make the worsening pain go away. To free herself off the hopeless therapy's and the pity looks on her doctor's face. She wanted to get away from it all. Slamming into the bathroom, she plugged her ears against the screaming banshees and turned the shower full force on her self. As the cold water ran down her face in black streams, her pink lipstick came off to reveal pale lips. Her clothes stuck to her bony figure. Her hands started shaking again as the sobs reverted off the bare walls. There was no way out of it. The cancer was killing her very slowly.

The bright white of her life shined to others. A perfect girl with a perfect life. No one could ever imagine or understand how dark her personality really was. How her frustrations to fight life had coated her insides completely black.

A black inside after all never shows.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.