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Description
Three

Her body was her life story. To the ever-present scar above her left eye to the tattered, black shoes that enveloped her curled toes, the skin, fabric, and accessories that adorned her gave individual, miniscule clues as to her history and what may lie below her concealed surface. She had but one favorite spot, however, which was visible to her dark, imperfect eyes, and that held various items deemed irreplaceable by the young woman's mind; that area was her left wrist. Catching the mere sight of the objects that lay there brought forth such suffocating and warm emotions that would rise to the surface of her chest with each inhale, and would sink back down to the dark depths of her memories, which were many a time unbeknownst to even the young lady herself.

The first item, a shining, metallic-like, black bracelet was a gift brought back from her homeland overseas, where children and adults alike lay on the soft sand, intoxicated by the smell and hush of the faithful waters. The surface reflected the gentle lights around her, but the stern, metal gripped at her skin, as if to remind her that just as each bead added weight to the innocent accessory, life had its own burdens that should never be forgotten and were wound together by a dark thread of their own.

Another item was both quite like and unlike the first; it was another bracelet also brought as a gift from the homeland she had never once visited in her lifetime. This piece of jewelry, however, was made of pure, sparkling silver. Tiny sea creatures ornamented the thin chain, although it was noticeable that somewhere along the line of her childhood, one or two of the creatures had disconnected from the group and fallen along the paved roads of the past. Partly because of the truth that genuine silver never rusts, and partly because the one who had given it to her was a particular individual of whom she cared for very much so, the young girl seldom removed it.

The final item was linked to the silver bracelet, ironically in more ways than one. Physically, it hung from the silver chain, reflecting a worn-out, gold shine, as well as a tiny silver shine being emitted from a single flower engraved in a square within the middle of the ring. The ring, like the bracelets, had been a gift from a close loved one. In fact, the one who had given it was the son of the woman who had presented the silver, oceanic charm bracelet. The nostalgic yet tragic story of hidden emotions that lay behind the tale of the ring was one that was passed on from the young man to his daughter, and it would continue to haunt her thoughts until she was to pass it on to her offspring and maintain the cursed cycle of unfortunate remembrance.

The three objects rested on the young woman's left wrist, unable to be disturbed without her consent as they lay upon the scars of her past. They were her gift; they were her curse. As she faced the violent wind of the world that caused her dark hair to whip her fragile skin, her silent, shadowed eyes gazed in wonder at the waters of life that brought the faintest shimmers of hope to the feeblest of misfits. So with each wary step forward the young woman took, the three items clanked together in unison, a remembrance of the tragedy, jubilance, and hope she had encountered, and would continue to encounter in the rest of her days to come.

Description
Three

Her body was her life story. To the ever-present scar above her left eye to the tattered, black shoes that enveloped her curled toes, the skin, fabric, and accessories that adorned her gave individual, miniscule clues as to her history and what may lie below her concealed surface. She had but one favorite spot, however, which was visible to her dark, imperfect eyes, and that held various items deemed irreplaceable by the young woman's mind; that area was her left wrist. Catching the mere sight of the objects that lay there brought forth such suffocating and warm emotions that would rise to the surface of her chest with each inhale, and would sink back down to the dark depths of her memories, which were many a time unbeknownst to even the young lady herself.

The first item, a shining, metallic-like, black bracelet was a gift brought back from her homeland overseas, where children and adults alike lay on the soft sand, intoxicated by the smell and hush of the faithful waters. The surface reflected the gentle lights around her, but the stern, metal gripped at her skin, as if to remind her that just as each bead added weight to the innocent accessory, life had its own burdens that should never be forgotten and were wound together by a dark thread of their own.

Another item was both quite like and unlike the first; it was another bracelet also brought as a gift from the homeland she had never once visited in her lifetime. This piece of jewelry, however, was made of pure, sparkling silver. Tiny sea creatures ornamented the thin chain, although it was noticeable that somewhere along the line of her childhood, one or two of the creatures had disconnected from the group and fallen along the paved roads of the past. Partly because of the truth that genuine silver never rusts, and partly because the one who had given it to her was a particular individual of whom she cared for very much so, the young girl seldom removed it.

The final item was linked to the silver bracelet, ironically in more ways than one. Physically, it hung from the silver chain, reflecting a worn-out, gold shine, as well as a tiny silver shine being emitted from a single flower engraved in a square within the middle of the ring. The ring, like the bracelets, had been a gift from a close loved one. In fact, the one who had given it was the son of the woman who had presented the silver, oceanic charm bracelet. The nostalgic yet tragic story of hidden emotions that lay behind the tale of the ring was one that was passed on from the young man to his daughter, and it would continue to haunt her thoughts until she was to pass it on to her offspring and maintain the cursed cycle of unfortunate remembrance.

The three objects rested on the young woman's left wrist, unable to be disturbed without her consent as they lay upon the scars of her past. They were her gift; they were her curse. As she faced the violent wind of the world that caused her dark hair to whip her fragile skin, her silent, shadowed eyes gazed in wonder at the waters of life that brought the faintest shimmers of hope to the feeblest of misfits. So with each wary step forward the young woman took, the three items clanked together in unison, a remembrance of the tragedy, jubilance, and hope she had encountered, and would continue to encounter in the rest of her days to come.