The Curtains

Three treasures buried in the rotten land: folding stools, an unerasable broken table, and a disgusting damp cover. Fears were childless, and thoughts ran deep. They did not call out to him, nor did he call out to them.

A square-shaped, layered birthday cake with banana. The little girl, five years old, wished it were not rotten, bitter, and sad. Was this connected to the huge stone pushed from the wall? No, of course not.

She was blonde, with green eyes, a small nose, and shiny teeth — a type never seen in her generational DNA. Perhaps it was the power flowing from the natural air of the forest. A leader of birds was supposed to know how to sense danger, how to escape quickly, and when. This girl seemed born for it.

No one knew the exact reason why the layered cake with banana was rotten and bitter. Maybe it had been under the sun for too long. Maybe it had been baked days ago. Certainly, it was not because the universe refused to make her happy, or to let her shine like the stars.

But the sacred house containing the buried treasures had to remain unseen. The birthday was around ten p.m. The celebration was soon; someone had to appear happy. Yet, before the celebration, do not forget to close the curtains.

The language consisted of the words “happy birthday”, “well done”, “sweetheart”. The questions concerning the wishes and smiles were difficult to answer. Plates were empty because she had so much milk to waste while cooking this time. She even did not say happy birthday but she knew another language that everyone knew she spoke it, problem solved.

The only gold they had was right there, standing still. They did not keep it they let it go and find its place, which will soon be more worthy. While the little guy was trying to close the curtain that was about to open because of the cold weather that leaks from old windows, she jumped to put the curtain back to its place but the curtain was torn.

Photo was taken from unsplah.com (a photo taken by Cecile Hournau)-