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Danielle.
She's a rough looking girl-- a curly haired, green-eyed, pale and pasty looking girl. She dreams in polaroids and pastels of greens and blues. If she takes her time, sometimes she can see into people's souls, through their eyes and all that. She can dance her way through the streets, not even receiving a single glance from the zombie like men and women who walk them. She's that girl who's there, but never there; her head always full of black ink that she happens to splatter on her clothes (just for fun.)
Call the critics, here she comes. Walking in that dazed and insane but completely down to earth sort of way. Sometimes she hums, but sometimes not. It depends on what choral song she's managed to listen to over and over and over again and then memorize it until it completely consumes her. She's a music fanatic, if you know what I mean. Oh, get this. She walks through fields of barely and corn, a daggar in her hand, because she only looks for the dandelions with seeds on them. She takes the knife and she cuts their heads off (and often sees someone cutting her own head of in her nightmares.) She makes crowns out of their heads.
Hey, look over there. She's at it again, painting on people's windows. She doesn't really care what they do or if they come cursing her to the depths, she just paints those little balloons, floating off into the distance of some sky. She told someone somewhere that her lover's out there in that sky, waiting for her to come. She said that he wants her to complete her life with good memories and goals finished before she even dares think of coming to him. She said something like, "I couldn't possibly get anything done when I'm thinking about someone who doesn't exist...yet."
She's quite the distant smiler. She doesn't show her teeth to just any stranger, especially those with bottles in hand and a limping swagger that doesn't quite match her personality. She has an instep of her own, left leg a bit longer than the right. She doesn't walk in the slightest like she's impaired, but treats it like a gift that she's been given for a benefit. This girl tends to take a little longer when she walks inside from the out, because she loves the moment when a butterfly fluttersby. She lives with no one, but she calls her own name inside, like a mother would, though she doesn't have that.
Her name is Danielle. I think. Go ask her.
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Rogue.
I am absolutely in love with your first paragraph. It's very... honest-sounding. You know? It's even a bit harsh, but in a good way.
I have to say though, you lost me a bit with the beginning of the second paragraph. The directly speaking to the audience interrupted the flow of the words a bit for me. It just made it seem more casually written than the first paragraph, which was cutting and sharp. It sort of start-stops the pace when you say, "Call the critics" or "hey look". I really think the whole piece could be just as strong as that first paragraph if you keep that same omniscient sort of tone throughout all of it. Make it sound more like you're speaking of a memory rather than actually speaking *to* people.
I really respect this piece. The images and descriptions are really fantastic.
Ta.
RA-
This is a beautiful character description. This girl reminds me of Stargirl, a character in a book I read by Jerry Spinelli a long time ago. Have you read it?
I was not taken aback by the more casual language in the second paragraph. It sounds as if the narrator were a student explaining to another, maybe newer student, about Danielle. I don't know if that's what you were going for, but that's what it seemed like to me.
I like the fourth paragraph the best, and the line "She doesn't walk in the slightest like she's impaired, but treats it like a gift she's been given for a benefit."
-Reina