Other stories for this prompt

She was the most delicate girl in town, so different from all the rest.
I look at her and all I can do is smile, she's so beautiful.
I wish I could call her mine, but sadly she's already been claimed.

He's so lucky and he doesn't even realise it.
He treats her like garbage, and she knows it, yet she keeps going back.

I don't understand.

Why don't you leave if all you do is end up heart in the end?
Why not go to someone who you know will treat you right?

I wish you could see me....

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She was the most delicate girl in town. Or at least, that's what they all thought. With her prim private school uniform, glossy ringlet curls and polite smile, she had them all fooled. Everyone except me. Noone knew her like I did though. Sharing a bedroom gives an unprecedented view into a person's inner psyche. I'm not just talking about dirty washing left on the floor and mugs growing mould, though that's gross enough. It's not even just the boys, or increasingly lately - men, she would shimmy down the drain pipe to meet. It's not even that her straight...

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The Delicate Chance
No one ever dared to push her too hard. She was robbed of all her real potential because everyone was so afraid she might break.
She had always had hopes and dreams like everyone else, but they stayed inside of her....
Was she really so fragile? Mickey dared to think otherwise. He spoke with Rachel often once she convinced him of how miserable her life was. He decided he coulnd't let her waste away any longer.
They never went anywhere--except in dreams....But their dreams had them soaring all over the world. Time was no obstacle, as they...

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She was the most delicate girl in town. But looks could be deceptive. Ruth knew he was somewhere in the house. Unfamiliar surroundings would make it difficult for easy location of prey, but that wouldn't delay the inevitable. She was as confident as she could be that no help would come. The old place was too isolated; one of its charms. Ironically, it was what had attracted her to the place. The appeal of sole occupation. Nothing to disturb her work.

Fortunately, she'd made it to the Kitchen and its drawers of sharp, clean, very clean knives. Ms. (note the...

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She was the most delicate girl in town. A town that thrived on beauty. It was everything, and so was she. When I first met her, we were on a field trip in 6th grade. Back then, she wasn't even wearing make up yet. A completely different person. So, of course I was nervous when I woke up next to her.

"What are you thinking?", she asked me. I didn't know what to say. All I felt was shame. "Didn't you like it?" "I did."I lied. "So, what's the problem? I know you wanted me since high school." "Yeah, but...

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I thought she was made of china, the first time I met her. Girls that perfect didn't exist, only dolls. Frozen icons of perfection, unattainable.

She made me feel clumsy - she was slight, small, pale, hiding behind perfect ringlets. On paper we sound the same - the same could be said of me (apart from the ringlets; my hair is straight, limp) but she wore it with pride, I treated my height as a disability, my weight as an inconvienience, my skintone a health hazard. I looked sickly, she looked ethereal.

Somehow it wasn't a surprise when she spoke...

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She was the most delicate girl in town. Small, pixieish, with willowy limbs and and small features placed evenly on her round face. She dressed delicately, too, with long, floaty skirts and light fabrics such as cotton and lace. She seemed to float when she walked, flicking her skirts and jumping lightly, like a fawn. But her eyes were, well, disturbing. electric green, with long, slit, vertical pupils, like a cat's. I wondered who she was, and where she came from. But one day, she just, dissapeared. Not a trace of her was found. one day, they found her at...

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She was the most delicate girl in town. I liked to think of her as something made out of matchsticks, and knobby joints. Her voice, it never seemed to mature, even as she stretched into a teenager, and curves set in, she would still skitter on her toes, and wring her hands, and never make eye contact.

The crush I developed on her was no not so unusual, I think the whole town was in love with her in their own way, male, female, child, animal. Girls like that aren't meant to last if you think about it. Those quiet...

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She was the most delicate girl in town, but this minor label did not stop her from testing for her black belt.
"I can do this" she murmed to herself as she faced three groups of boards to smash. Ignoring the painin her bellying from receiving a front kick, she readied her five foot two, ninety eight pound frame. She exploded forward with a vicious elbow snapping the first board like a twig ready for a fire. Leaping into a flying side kick ,she ripped two boards. Grabbing a fourth board she tossed it and punched it in half.

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She was the most delicate girl in town - pale skin stretched tight over a skeletal face, hair the colour of fresh milk, body tall and angular. Her eyes were of the softest blue, her cheeks flushed pastel pink, her lips like an English rose. Fragile, barely there, more ghost than anything real: that's what people said about her, that's what they thought when they passed her in the street. But as delicate as she was, as insubstantial, there was something very real and present in the way that she held herself and in the manner of her walk. One...

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About the prompt

She was the most delicate girl in town.
Prompt suggested by Gone Awry
Originally displayed on:
April 14, 2011


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