Petunia Hudson // d9 // fin
Mar 2, 2018 14:43:01 GMT -5
Post by flyss on Mar 2, 2018 14:43:01 GMT -5
[googlefont="Euphoria Script"][googlefont="Open Sans"]
»»—— Petunia Hudson ——««
Momma always told me I was an angel. Angels don't gotta be beautiful, she'd whisper in that hush tone daddy said he liked. But you're one of the pretty ones anyway. Red hair, light skin, plump lips.... to her, I was as perfect as it got. I'd tell the kids at school about how special I was, but they'd never seemed to get it. Laughs would fill the classroom, echoes of "ugly one" and "gargoyle" bubbling up during free times. They'd ask where my wings was and that all angels have wings, but I could never answer them right. I remember crying on my way home; every day was my very own rainstorm.
When I first told my Momma what my classmates said, she looked real angry... but then she looked sad. Then happy. Baby, they just don't understand. None of them mongrels have seen a real one of your kind all up close and in person. She seemed so sure of herself, each word dipped in a vanilla confidence I'd never seen before on anyone else. Your wings are right here. Her finger would touch my left chest softly, daringly, and she'd smile that Momma smile she knew I loved. Feel that thump-thump? That's the wings trying to help you fly away.
So I went to school the next day and told all the kids with the proudest voice I could do: My wings was right here all along! My Momma said so. My finger would press so hard to where Momma had shown me, to where the knuckles looked paper white. But either my voice wasn't loud enough or they still wasn't convinced, 'cause I got that same dumb look I'd got before. One boy even stood up and yelled somethin' along the lines of "Petunia thinks her boobies are angel wings!" Everyone laughed, from wall to wall a mockin' of my Momma and me, and the teacher didn't even look caring about it.
I tried to hide the pink spreadin' fast across my cheeks, my skin hotter than it'd ever been before, but nothin' could mask the shame I felt. No! I'd yelled back so loud, loud enough that my throat felt on fire. They're in my heart! But the roar of laughter just got louder and louder. I felt like a gazelle trapped in a pack of lions.
When I got home that day, Momma asked me how my classes went. She looked so peaceful, eyes full of a hope I didn't wanna crush. I told her that everything was great. Nobody even thought bad about it, it must of just clicked for 'em, I guessed. My heart dropped to my knees, the wings beating faster and faster and faster, when I saw that look of pride fill her face. I felt dirty. I felt like the devil. I felt like I didn't deserve to be an angel no more.
After dinner, long after the sun had hid its face for the night, I rushed out to the field of wheat and didn't stop running until my legs gave out from under me. This was the only place I felt worthy of-- a gal with a face uneven, a compassion unseen, surrounded by a golden glory she couldn't even use. The kids' voices came back one by one, each soundin' more rickity than the last. Maybe I wasn't an angel. What kinda angel gets sick when it eats bread or cookies or cake? What kinda angel looks like this?
Minutes passed, hours probably, before I heard any voice of comfort. My mother was screaming from the back porch of the house, her words echoing off of the soulless field, each syllable pleadin' for her baby girl to come back home. I missed her warm arms, no matter how small the time we'd been apart was, and I desperately wanted to go back right back into their clutch. I wanted to feel good inside. But I'd never heard her be as loud as she was then, and I was scared she'd be mad at me... for worryin' her and for lyin' about my day.
Momma, I'm right here. I spoke softly at first, then with a passion once all my hesitation had up and run away. Momma! The wetness began to attack my eyes again, and my body shook with each tearful yell. Momma! I'm right here! I'm right here. My legs felt like water, or I woulda stood up to go and find her. By the time she and Daddy got to me, I had no more tears left to cry, and my throat felt as raw as a peeled carrot. I'm sorry- I didn't mean to- it was just- I was just- they said- I tried hard to find the words, but none of 'em seemed to make the sense I was tryin' to say. Momma pulled me close to her chest in a hush, and I could feel her own wings pressed up to my ear. They were strong, stronger than my own, and I couldn't say nothin' as long as that steady thump-thump was all I could hear.
Listen to me, 'Tunia. I could tell she was upset, but that didn't seem to be the only thing she felt. Don't you ever try to run away from your problems like that. Nothin' can hurt an angel. Nobody can hurt you. I pulled away, still within her grasp but not so far that her warmth was gone. My eyes looked at her face hard, tryin' to see what she could see.... tryin' to feel what she could feel.
But Momma. They said I wasn't no angel. Her shoulders stiffened as she listened to my words, calloused fingers still brushin' away against my arm in a comfortable way. They told me I was ugly and a demon and that no angel couldn't eat bread like I can't.
Baby, her voice was stuffed full of understandin'. Like I done said, you can't go listenin' to them kids. They don't know what an angel looks like. When the pretty midwife handed me you 11 years ago, she done told me somethin' similar. She'd said that you wouldn't make it not even a year. But here you are. You're the definition of an angel if there ever was one. I knew when your little fingers wrapped around my big ones that you were stronger than you looked. Ripred made you this perfect, 'Tunia.
I could tell that Momma was about to cry just like I'd been doin', so I grabbed her shoulders real tight and didn't let go for a long while. Later on, when we had walked back up to the house, she let me sleep in her bed with Daddy instead of on my cot in the corner. We all felt a lot of love that night, and my wings beat so fast I thought they'd just go flyin' right out of my chest. Petunia Husdon was an angel- a blessin'- and I'd let nobody else tell me otherwise.
It's been four years since then, and every mornin' I wake up with the same happiness I did the day before. Today, I can smell my Momma cookin' breakfast from the other room. It's probably gonna be somethin' small-- it always is-- but there's no doubt it'll be cooked with as much love as always. It's only a few seconds before I've jumped out of bed and rushed to greet her. I can't help but shoot a giggle as she swats me away from the stove.
"It'll be ready in a few, 'Tunia. Why don't you go get your father and the boys out from the field? Maisie and Jonah should be somewhere in the plant garden, so you ought to ask them to pick some veggies for you to have somethin' more than just these roots to eat." With a kiss, she shoos me out the back door and away from the sweet smells of food. We don't get to eat real well very often, and with me bein' allergic to our district's biggest crop... I'm usually left hungrier than the rest. We have 10 mouths to feed here on the farm: Momma Rose and Daddy Tyson, cousins Teresa, Joseph, Jonah, and Kolt, Uncle Lilac, Uncle Hektor, Aunt Daisy, and lil' ol' me. We all work real hard to keep this place runnin', with Daddy, Joseph, Kolt, Lilac, and Hektor workin' the wheat fields and Momma and Daisy doin' the business side of it all. The youngest of the bunch, Teresa and Joseph, are usually all caught up in school stuff, but me.... I keep the flower garden good.
The flower garden is right off to the side of the plant garden, and it's full to the brim with blooms as pretty as them capitol gals. There's Roses, Lilacs, and Daisies for my Momma and her folk, and, right in the center, there's a box with Petunias just for myself. I stopped goin' to school last year 'cause I wanted to focus on the best stuff in life, and ever since, I've been spendin' my days waterin' what's there and plantin' what's not. Sometimes, I even take clips of my babies and go to the market with Momma and Daisy to sell 'em off. No longer am I afraid of gettin' funny looks from the people who don't understand, 'cause just like Momma said, not everyone's been able to see an angel before and that's quite alright. Us angels can't let them frowns discourage us when we got so much happiness to bring.
I just gotta keep my head up and my smile bright, and stay flyin' as free as I can until the day my wings can't fly no more.
When I first told my Momma what my classmates said, she looked real angry... but then she looked sad. Then happy. Baby, they just don't understand. None of them mongrels have seen a real one of your kind all up close and in person. She seemed so sure of herself, each word dipped in a vanilla confidence I'd never seen before on anyone else. Your wings are right here. Her finger would touch my left chest softly, daringly, and she'd smile that Momma smile she knew I loved. Feel that thump-thump? That's the wings trying to help you fly away.
So I went to school the next day and told all the kids with the proudest voice I could do: My wings was right here all along! My Momma said so. My finger would press so hard to where Momma had shown me, to where the knuckles looked paper white. But either my voice wasn't loud enough or they still wasn't convinced, 'cause I got that same dumb look I'd got before. One boy even stood up and yelled somethin' along the lines of "Petunia thinks her boobies are angel wings!" Everyone laughed, from wall to wall a mockin' of my Momma and me, and the teacher didn't even look caring about it.
I tried to hide the pink spreadin' fast across my cheeks, my skin hotter than it'd ever been before, but nothin' could mask the shame I felt. No! I'd yelled back so loud, loud enough that my throat felt on fire. They're in my heart! But the roar of laughter just got louder and louder. I felt like a gazelle trapped in a pack of lions.
When I got home that day, Momma asked me how my classes went. She looked so peaceful, eyes full of a hope I didn't wanna crush. I told her that everything was great. Nobody even thought bad about it, it must of just clicked for 'em, I guessed. My heart dropped to my knees, the wings beating faster and faster and faster, when I saw that look of pride fill her face. I felt dirty. I felt like the devil. I felt like I didn't deserve to be an angel no more.
After dinner, long after the sun had hid its face for the night, I rushed out to the field of wheat and didn't stop running until my legs gave out from under me. This was the only place I felt worthy of-- a gal with a face uneven, a compassion unseen, surrounded by a golden glory she couldn't even use. The kids' voices came back one by one, each soundin' more rickity than the last. Maybe I wasn't an angel. What kinda angel gets sick when it eats bread or cookies or cake? What kinda angel looks like this?
Minutes passed, hours probably, before I heard any voice of comfort. My mother was screaming from the back porch of the house, her words echoing off of the soulless field, each syllable pleadin' for her baby girl to come back home. I missed her warm arms, no matter how small the time we'd been apart was, and I desperately wanted to go back right back into their clutch. I wanted to feel good inside. But I'd never heard her be as loud as she was then, and I was scared she'd be mad at me... for worryin' her and for lyin' about my day.
Momma, I'm right here. I spoke softly at first, then with a passion once all my hesitation had up and run away. Momma! The wetness began to attack my eyes again, and my body shook with each tearful yell. Momma! I'm right here! I'm right here. My legs felt like water, or I woulda stood up to go and find her. By the time she and Daddy got to me, I had no more tears left to cry, and my throat felt as raw as a peeled carrot. I'm sorry- I didn't mean to- it was just- I was just- they said- I tried hard to find the words, but none of 'em seemed to make the sense I was tryin' to say. Momma pulled me close to her chest in a hush, and I could feel her own wings pressed up to my ear. They were strong, stronger than my own, and I couldn't say nothin' as long as that steady thump-thump was all I could hear.
Listen to me, 'Tunia. I could tell she was upset, but that didn't seem to be the only thing she felt. Don't you ever try to run away from your problems like that. Nothin' can hurt an angel. Nobody can hurt you. I pulled away, still within her grasp but not so far that her warmth was gone. My eyes looked at her face hard, tryin' to see what she could see.... tryin' to feel what she could feel.
But Momma. They said I wasn't no angel. Her shoulders stiffened as she listened to my words, calloused fingers still brushin' away against my arm in a comfortable way. They told me I was ugly and a demon and that no angel couldn't eat bread like I can't.
Baby, her voice was stuffed full of understandin'. Like I done said, you can't go listenin' to them kids. They don't know what an angel looks like. When the pretty midwife handed me you 11 years ago, she done told me somethin' similar. She'd said that you wouldn't make it not even a year. But here you are. You're the definition of an angel if there ever was one. I knew when your little fingers wrapped around my big ones that you were stronger than you looked. Ripred made you this perfect, 'Tunia.
I could tell that Momma was about to cry just like I'd been doin', so I grabbed her shoulders real tight and didn't let go for a long while. Later on, when we had walked back up to the house, she let me sleep in her bed with Daddy instead of on my cot in the corner. We all felt a lot of love that night, and my wings beat so fast I thought they'd just go flyin' right out of my chest. Petunia Husdon was an angel- a blessin'- and I'd let nobody else tell me otherwise.
It's been four years since then, and every mornin' I wake up with the same happiness I did the day before. Today, I can smell my Momma cookin' breakfast from the other room. It's probably gonna be somethin' small-- it always is-- but there's no doubt it'll be cooked with as much love as always. It's only a few seconds before I've jumped out of bed and rushed to greet her. I can't help but shoot a giggle as she swats me away from the stove.
"It'll be ready in a few, 'Tunia. Why don't you go get your father and the boys out from the field? Maisie and Jonah should be somewhere in the plant garden, so you ought to ask them to pick some veggies for you to have somethin' more than just these roots to eat." With a kiss, she shoos me out the back door and away from the sweet smells of food. We don't get to eat real well very often, and with me bein' allergic to our district's biggest crop... I'm usually left hungrier than the rest. We have 10 mouths to feed here on the farm: Momma Rose and Daddy Tyson, cousins Teresa, Joseph, Jonah, and Kolt, Uncle Lilac, Uncle Hektor, Aunt Daisy, and lil' ol' me. We all work real hard to keep this place runnin', with Daddy, Joseph, Kolt, Lilac, and Hektor workin' the wheat fields and Momma and Daisy doin' the business side of it all. The youngest of the bunch, Teresa and Joseph, are usually all caught up in school stuff, but me.... I keep the flower garden good.
The flower garden is right off to the side of the plant garden, and it's full to the brim with blooms as pretty as them capitol gals. There's Roses, Lilacs, and Daisies for my Momma and her folk, and, right in the center, there's a box with Petunias just for myself. I stopped goin' to school last year 'cause I wanted to focus on the best stuff in life, and ever since, I've been spendin' my days waterin' what's there and plantin' what's not. Sometimes, I even take clips of my babies and go to the market with Momma and Daisy to sell 'em off. No longer am I afraid of gettin' funny looks from the people who don't understand, 'cause just like Momma said, not everyone's been able to see an angel before and that's quite alright. Us angels can't let them frowns discourage us when we got so much happiness to bring.
I just gotta keep my head up and my smile bright, and stay flyin' as free as I can until the day my wings can't fly no more.
»»—— district 9 | fc: madeline stuart ——««
