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I found this tucked away in my old Geometry notebook and found it interesting. Yes, I wrote it. It's a bit old, and I must say I could've written it so much better. But I'm too lazy.

There was a little girl no older than ten who had found herself walking through a desert. She knew not how she got there, nor why. All she knew was to keep walking on.

"These shoes are terrible for walking, let alone in the sand." She said aloud. Her small feet were feeling sore from the small heels she wore. They looked like fancy party shoes, she thought. But she did not take them off for she was afraid she would ruin her pure white stockings.

She continues to trudge through the sand, being cooked alive by the infernal heat.

"Oh, if only there was a tree, I could rest in it's calming shade." She said.

"But I've heard there are snakes and other nasty things in the desert. They all rest in the shade!"

"Don't be silly and get all flustered." She said to herself

"There won't be any shade for miles. You'll just have to suffer."

"Don't be so dreadfully mean. I'm sure there will be some sort of shade somewhere." She said to herself.

Her little tiered dress was growing heavy, and her curls were uncurling. It felt like she had been walking forever. Her poor little legs were growing so tired. She was incredibly thirsty as well.

"This is so unbearable. What am I even doing here?"

"It doesn't matter. You are just so weak."

"Stop being so mean to me!"

"You are the one who is being mean to me. Look what you are doing to
my body. Wearing it out like this."

"It's not my fault! You brought me here!"

"Did I?"


She then saw something in the distance. It was a single, lonely palm tree.

"Hah! See? A tree!" The little girl ran over to it, and sad it it's shade.

"This is heavenly." She said. As she relaxed, she turned her head to the right, and saw a doll.

"Aimee? My doll, Aimee!" She exclaimed as she picked it up joyfully.

"Oh, my Aimee! What has happened to you?" The doll's dress was ragged and torn. Half of the doll's porcelain face was broken off. Tears began to run down the girl's rosy cheeks. She dropped the doll and turned away from it. As she turned, she noticed a mirror hanging from the palm tree. She walked to it, and was taken aback at what she saw.

It was her, but around sixteen years of age. Her hair was scraggly and knotted, her makeup streaming down her face. Her dress was torn and stained. She began to cry even more at the sight, and fell to the ground, sobbing.


The palm tree and desert then peeled away like flaking paint. All that was left was nothing.


"Poor broken child." She said.