miércoles, 15 de diciembre de 2010
And so, there she sat. Immobile, facing the mirror. Her eyes following every line in her face from one end to the other as if every one was an alley, filled with memories and regret.
Euphegenia Ashdown had been one of the most beautiful women to come out of Cheswik, each and every debutante that had had the misfortune of being introduced to society along with Euphy, as her friends knew her, was invariably out shone by her. A Rose amongst Lilies.
Where, oh where had this blushing girl gone? Euphegenia asked herself as this shrivelled old hag returned her gaze through the mirror. Where was the promise? And the limitless possibilities that the future once had in store for her? It all seemed so silly to her now, the tea parties, the balls, the incessant chatter of the socialites and, as she stared at her reflected image, she recognized the look in her own eyes. She had seen this expression before. This icy glare, it was all there; in the eyes. The quiet desperation, the yearning for the years long gone. It was all around her as she was growing up, like the Monets on the walls, and the vases on the corners, just another decoration that the ladies of Cheswik´s high society seemed to collect. Now, with her best years behind her, she couldn´t help but to wonder why she once aspired to be like these "society wives", living, breathing monuments of propriety and grace.
And it was then when the answer appeared all by itself, it had been right in front of her all these years. The reason behind all the debutante balls, all the mother daughter appearances in society, the tea parties, the social gatherings her mother had raised her to love, it was all for their sake, the old noble Cheswik ladies that is. It had taken her all this time but she had finally understood it. When the glass mirrors started to disappoint, what better solution than resorting to the flesh and bone ones?