Daytime Stories | An Unfortunate Celebration of Misery

I recently had a one-sided chat with a friend of mine—so it was more me listening than anything. As she spoke my heart grew sad because, while it was her voice, she didn’t sound like the same person I had known for over ten years. She had fallen in love with the wrong man, and if this chapter of her life were a fairytale, it might go something like this…

There once was a beautiful girl named Sunny from the golden side of a mountain; who grew up to be an even lovelier woman. She was kind, smart, funny, and well-developed in every womanly way. She made boys giggle and grown men cry. She was the epitome of self-confidence, strength and independence. Then, one day, a boy (let’s call him Brown), with as many years as a man (but not quite the level of maturity to appropriately don the title) was introduced to Sunny; and a violently passionate romance ensued. 

Now Brown wasn’t a gentleman, nor was he smart or kind, but Brown was a survivor from a low valley. He was from a world where empathy was akin to death and smiles only preceded chaos, but because he was more attractive than others of his kind he was mistaken for a man of integrity and strength. Brown pursued Sunny until all her guards were down. He made her laugh and she told him stories about her childhood and friends and the hopes she had for her life. She loved Brown. 

Brown, knowing that Sunny was under his spell, suddenly began to play a game with her heart. There were riddles and traps designed to make Sunny second guess the woman she had grown to be. You see, Brown knew that one day Sunny would find out where he was from and what legacy (or lack thereof) he had inherited—being from the low valley. He couldn’t have that at all and knew that his only hope for surpassing his people was to conquer the soul of a golden-hearted woman. 

The games tried Sunny and the riddles outwitted her until one day she fell asleep and awoke the next day not even remembering her own name. Her appearance grew dim, her intelligence waned, and her posture destroyed the well-placed womanly figure that made her the envy of all the ladies of the mountain. Brown had stolen her soul and, one by one, her people turned away from her to spare themselves the grief of witnessing her impending demise. 

Who would save her if she wouldn’t save herself?

xo, august & pepper