Ribbons

First chapter of a story.

It's an insane asylum in negative. Instead of the cushioned white walls of a solitary confinement room there are endless lengths of black. She's been walking for what feels like days but she neither grows tired or hungry. Her "straight jacket" restrains her eyes and mouth and though she has full use of her arms there is nothing in the void to warrent their use. She's written letters to her past self in her mind to warn her of dangers but it does no good. She's still here.

The girls eyes were closed in the picture. The long lashes that brushed her cheeks made her resemble a doll. Her left eye was covered with a spray of flowers reminiscent of a corsage, a lily surrounded by babys breath, lace held the stems together.Her hair, styled into ringlets lay on the pillow that supported her head and matched her ruffled dress. A sleeping doll trapped behind a thin sheet of glass. Ramona longed to hold the photo, her hands twitched upwards towards the frame but it was still out of her grasp. Not just literally of course, though she did not have the good fortune to have inherited her fathers height like the rest of her family but symbolically as well. The sticker of the cheap frame read $20.00. Ramona patted the pocket of her jeans which were being held up by a belt wrapped twice around her frame.

$2.00- left over lunch money, a paper clip, a note from her teacher, and half a package of sunflower seeds- dill flavoured. Unless the elderly woman at the front desk accepted sunflower seeds as payment then the photo would remain on its place on the shelf until another day.

Simple math told Ramona that she would be able to afford the photo in 10 weeks.

Of the $5.00 a week for allowence $1.00 went to the milk program at school, $1.00 went to a strawberry-kiwi soda and another dollar usually went to one of her brothers, Finnick most likely.

It had become a habit for Ramona to stop by Tallia's Treasures-the second hand store in which she now stood- on the way home from school, an almost religiopus practice. It made her feel light-headed when she saw what people donated: a Prada purse, china teacups, a brand new toaster oven and obviously the Victorian photos which sat on the back shelf away from the clothes catagorized by colour. Ramona felt comfortable among the cast-offs of other people. Materials whose owners had moved onto the next phase of life and had not thought to bring along their old briefcase. Ramona made her way to the exit, passing by silk scarves, false roses and an ancient grandfather clock.
Ramonas feet slapped against the wet ground, her shoelaces trailing behind her. Running was liberating even if her clothes did slow her down. Too wide shoes, too big jeans, too bulky coat, too small girl. The clothes on her back were not hers. They were her brothers hand-me-downs, much like the objects that filled the second-hand store. With her hat on she could pass as a boy, no part of Ramona gave off a sense of femininity a fact that girls at school like to remind her of. Their taunting is still ringing in her ears.

"Ramona wears boys clothes! She's such a freak..."

" I bet she's a lesbian."

"Ew! Get away from us. We don't want your lesbo germs near us."

Worse were the whispers the teachers said when they though she wasn't listening.

"That poor Ramona, no mother to teach her to dress properly..."

"Should we drop some clothes off at her house? Maybe some food as well"

No thank you Miss Hummel Ramona wanted to say We have enough food and it's just too much of hassle for my father to drive into town, and he's hopeless at picking out clothes.

Romonas memory brought her back to the time when she was supposed to be taken dress shopping by her father for a wedding. Her brother Mihael took her instead. Out of her family of eight it was Mihael who adopted the 'motherly' role, cooking, cleaning, and taking Ramona shopping. They had headed off to the nearest mall early in the morning, or what Mihael called early, and spent hours in the dress shop. It would have been less time except for Ramonas insistance that she needed to wear every dress for at least five minutes to make sure it was right and all five of those minutes were taken up by Ramona dancing about the store commanding everyone like a princess. By the end of the day the store-keepers were so eager to get rid of the pair that they offered to take off 30% of the dress' final price. Ramona had decided on a pink dress with obnoxious amounts of crinolin, ribbon and lace. It was one of Ramonas favorite memories.

Ramona slowed to a jog before turning onto the gravel driveway of her house and making her way inside.

"Hello little brother!"

A rough hand clamped down onto Ramonas hat before tearing it off causing Ramonas long hair to fall out from its place tucked under the cap.

"Oh my mistake! Little sister. My goodness don't I feel silly now."

"Hey Finn. Didja get that haircut yet?.. where's Dad?"

A boy appearing to be around 15 smiled down at her. His long blond hair was pulled back into a low pony tail and a patch of freckles dotted his nose and cheeks. He was dressed in his usual clothes, too tight jeans that actually might fit Ramona when they got passed down to her and and oversized T-Shirt.

"He had to go to some meeting thing for work. Over in Georgetown. Left money though" Finn stuffed a $20 bill under Ramonas nose. "Smell that? That's the smell of freedom... and pizza."

"Smells like paper to me."

"Har-har. Guess who's gunna do pick up the pizza?"

"I just got home! Why can't you go? Or get Tom or Liam to drive?"

"Tom's busy with school stuff, Liams on a date and I'm a lazy a*s. Therefore by process of elimination you are our lucky contestant." Finn slapped the hat back on her head and gave Ramona a push towards the door before crumpling the bill into her hand.

"Now remember. Don't talk to weirdos and only get into strange cars if they offer you candy or a puppy!"

Ramona took off down the driveway and back into town.

Finnick really is an idiot. There's a full pizza in the refrigerator and only me and him are gunna be eating it. So now I've got $20.00 at my disposal...

Ramona ran along the damp sidewalk, stumbling over a few tufts of grass that had begun to grow up from between the cracks in the cement. Her town was small, word spread like wild fire through a forest as did prejudges' . Most of the people in town had similar view points and in such an enclosed community it was dangerous to oppose those views. The pressure would build and build until the town exploded into a hostile environment and it was with this understanding that people who did not agree with the current standards kept their mouths shut and politics were not discussed around the dinner table. Mihael had barely been able to wait to leave this town and had moved to the nearby city the day after he turned 18 and as much as it saddened to Ramona to be away from her favorite brother she was happy to be rid of the vandalism that had struck their house while he was residing there and derogatory language filling up their answering machine. And it wasn't as if he didn't visit, he made a point to visit once every week. Just two more days till he comes to visit, two more days until the house will be clean and I won't be eating out of a takeout box. Mihaels home cooked meals..yum. Macaroni and cheese. Roast beef with mashed potatos and yams. Home made ice cream!.

Her feet slowed as Ramona approached the crosswalk and punched the button that would somehow alert the world that she need needed to cross safely, the idea that a man in a satellite rerouted all traffic to avoid a traffic-jam because of one red light entertained her mind for a short minute before the cross walk signal turned white. Ramona hopped across the street, her feet only touching the white lines, imitating a ballet step that she had seen some other girls doing in recess that day. The store's so close, a grin stretched across her face.

A bell above her head chimed as Ramona entered the store for the second time today. Without a glance at the mirrors, one with a crack down the middle, or the cheap paintings that adorned the walls Ramona headed for the back of the store where the photos were kept. It was still there, sitting on it's place on the back shelf, nothing had changed since her earlier visit but it looked different. Instead of the photo being something of sadness, something that could never be obtained, it was actually within her grasp, literal and symbolical. Her hands shook as she touched the cold frame, something all hers. Taking the photo up to the counter she spoke

"I'd like to buy this please"

The lady looked down at her through thick-rimmed glasses, a perplexed expression on her face.

"You do know what this is correct?"

"Yes maam, it's a picture of a girl sleeping." Wasn't that obvious? Did the lady at the front think it was actually a picture of a doll?

"My dear... this is a mourning photo. Very popular in the Victorian Age."

"You mean like... a picture taken in the morning?"

"No no. You see it was common in the Victorian Age when child mortality rates where very high to have a deceased child posed as though they were simply sleeping and then photographed. A morbid practice but it happened...yes it happened. This is one of the less disturbing I've seen in my years. The ones of infants are positively dreadful. The mothers and fathers holding them as though they were still alive. My my."

This was a photo... of a dead girl? Ramona felt compelled to put the photo back on the shelf. To walk out of the store and never return but when she thought of letting go of the photo she felt sick, like letting go of the photo would be like losing a part of herself. How weird. No this was her photo. Her attachment to it somewhat frightened Ramona, to feel this way about a picture must be unhealthy.

"I still want it."

The lady tutted and accepted Ramonas money before dropping the photo into a plastic bag and handing it back to Ramona.

"You're quite the macabre little boy aren't you?"

Ouch. Ramona had forgotten that she had stuffed her hair back under her cap to keep it dry. No need to make a fuss...it happens all the time. Just nod and walk out. Exiting the store Ramona let out a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding. She should be used to it now, people mistook her for a boy all the time. That doesn't make it any easier.

The walk home was slow. She might trip and break the frame if she ran. That was fine though, it gave her time to admire the photo. I have a photo of a dead girl in my hands... shouldn't it weird me out? I shouldn't feel this comfortable with this in my hands... but I do.

Opening the door of her house she was met with silence. No sign that Finnick was here, maybe he had gone out with his... spirited friends. And no music coming from Liams room like usual. Ramona kicked off her shoes and turned to shut the door...

"Pizza!!!" Came a scream from behind the door. Startled Ramona dropped the photo and a resounding crack was heard throughout the house.

"Finnick!" Tears sprang to Ramonas eyes as she slumped to the floor to gather up the pieces. After she had gathered up the largest pieces along with the intact parts of the frame and photo she ran to the stairs, paying no heed to the smaller pieces of glass that embeded themselves in her bare feet.

"There's a full pizza in the fridge idiot!"

Ramona ran to her room with the picture clutched to her chest leaving a trail of blood from her feet. It wasn't fair. She had been so careful on the way home and now... Ramona laid the frame on the floor of her bedroom, after clearing a circle in the mess of clothes, books and old take out containers, and pried the photo out from the frame, careful not to let it touch the jagged edges of glass. It felt heavier than it should have and looked... thicker. Upon closer inspection Ramona discovered that there was a seperate piece of paper attached to the photo and something was between them. Will it tear the photo if I take the paper off? Probably not... only the edges seem to be attached. It's just like removing the clear plastic thing from a stick on tattoo, just get a corner lifted and you're good. Once Ramone had gotten a corner flap big enough to pull she began to tear back the seperate pice of paper. A long pink ribbon fell out from behind it. That's it? It seemed anticlimatic, though it was a pretty enough ribbon it was an odd find. Picking up the ribbon just with her finger tips, like it was something diseased, Ramona examined it closer. It was pink, the colour of blush and loops of lace outlined the edges. Ramona brought it close to her face and pressed it against her cheek, soft... She found herself tying the ribbon into her hair, an automatic response. The lack of decision to do this frightened her, but she tossed aside the fear as she was happy with the results. The bow of the ribbon now rested above her left ear and the tails of the ribbons tickled her cheeks.

Ramona looked back at the photograph without a frame, the girl in the photo looked... lighter? More transparent. Ramona could see parts of the pillow previously hidden behind the girls thick hair. I'm going crazy. Of course it looks different without the glass.

The small pools of blood appearing around the soles of her feet finally alerted Ramona that she was hurt, she had felt no pain before. Ramona placed the photo on her bookshelf and made her way downstair to the bathroom to wash off the blood and disinfect the cuts. God knows what she had contracted from walking on her floor with open wounds. Her floor hadn't been washed in over 2 months, a milk spill from three weeks ago was solidifying in the corner and the stench was making everyone in the house feel nausous and yet no one had bothered to take the five minutes out of their day to clean it up. The bathroom door was in need of repair, the hinges were rusted and it took enormous effort to get the door to open wide enough for Ramona to squeeze through.

After washing her feet off in the tub Ramona moved to open the bathroom cabinet with the mirrored door but something stopped her hand as it reached for the handle. She had caught her reflection in the mirror but it wasn't right. That was not her face staring back at her from the mirror.