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Porcelain
Porcelain
The sun shines brightly in a deep blue sky. The grass is green and the air is pure. Through this setting does the young man stride. His footsteps are quickened, however, by the excitement of his task. In the middle of this field of wildflowers, there stands a building of stone. He carefully unlocks the lock on the old wooden door, and steps inside to the cool, dark interior. Several torches flickered around the circular room. In this happy place, they cast shadows darker then the night.
Every now and then, he comes to this place. It is the most special place to him, and only him. Whenever he comes to this place, he brings with him a porcelain face. A porcelain face of a beautiful girl. He takes it inside the building, and sets it on a stone table to admire and look at. How beautiful this new one is. It makes him forget about all the others. All of the other cracked porcelain faces that have been destroyed by his touch. But none of that matters now. This one is different. He has to believe it is so.
The longer he sits there staring, the more worn and fragile the mask becomes. He can feel it wearing away under his fingertips. Slick as oil, it drops onto the stone table. It shatters into millions of pieces, and he is left alone again. The torches dim, and the shadows play. It feels like years he spends in there, with the torches, and the shadows, and the great stone walls. Eternity he would sit there, had he not heard a knock on the wooden door. He slowly rises, and opens the door, to find another porcelain face on the ground. He picks up the face, and lets yet another into his heart once more…
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