"under the willow tree of mistakes": The Writers' Spotlight

under the willow tree of mistakes

By Aishwarya Pattanayak

Alfina was trapped. Soft prickles of ice beneath her fingers, the rock she sat against, was her prison, forevermore. Nothing but ice and rock to keep her company. And though she had been trapped for as long as she could remember, there were signs of subtle difference inside her cell. That always made her feel like her prison was alive, though it wasn’t.

Sometimes, moss would spread on the rocks, and soft colorful wildflowers would spread at her feet. She would be in awe of their beauty, until she crushed them underneath her fingers in rage. And afterward, once she saw the flashes of color on her hand, she would cry for hours, devastated. Other times, the ice would crawl all over the rocks, until it had encased everything in clear harsh frost. Alfina never liked that time, it would burn her fingers whenever she touched the glaze.
But recently she didn’t pay much attention to her prison. Prison was a prison, regardless if it had flowers or not. Her attention always went to the broken glass wall opposite her. It was cracked, from that one time she had thrown a rock at it, but had not broken, and through the fractures in the glass, Alfina saw freedom.
But it was hopeless now, for there was nothing that would ever break the wall. So Alfina was trapped, now, and forevermore.
Though she had come to accept this miserable fate, her brain, ever so stubborn, refused to sit and wait for the end. It only reminded Alfina about her, and how she wouldn’t want Alfina to be hopeless. Everytime Alfina heard her name, her tired heart, long ago shattered, ached once more.
Alfina didn’t remember anything of her life outside the prison walls, only fragments of memories she once owned. She didn’t remember anything, except for Isobel. Alfina remembered Isobel's dark brunette hair, the way it was always swept over her shoulder effortlessly. She remembered Isobel’s large green eyes, the way that they widened when she was scared, and softened when she was kind. Alfina remembered Isobel, and Isobel only, though she had wished she didn’t.
She remembered how they had first met, in the playground, how Isobel, clad in a yellow cotton dress, had approached Alfina, raised her hand, and asked her to play. Alfina remembered her disbelief, and brief nod, until Isobel grabbed her hand, and ran, laughing and yelling all the way.
Alfina remembered the way people looked at Isobel and her. Eyes widened, and jaws dropped open. Alfina remembered the way that even she had doubted her friendship with Isobel. The psychotic girl, with the perfect girl. It was unbelievable. It was unexpected.
Alfina remembered their teen years, both of them thirteen. She remembered her own insecurity, and how, through her flawed eyes, she saw Isobel drifting away. Alfina remembered her panic. Alfina remembered her jealousy. Her envy that Isobel always got what she wanted, just because she was prettier and happier. Alfina remembered wanting to be her everyday. And Alfina, though she didn’t wish to remember the memory, remembered killing her only friend.
She remembered the knife. The blade sharp and stained. She remembered Isobels shocked face, and she remembered her last words.
Alfina remembered her devastation. Her acknowledgement of her selfishness. How even in her death, Isobel was as selfless, as perfect as ever. Alfina could never reach that level, and it was foolish for her to think that she even deserved to be Isobel’s friend. Even now, with Isobel’s death years and years ago, Alfina’s heart still ached with guilt and longing.
Alfina tried to stand, only to slip on the ice and land face first on the jagged stone. Her pale cheek was cut, blood pooling from the wound. Her legs stung with cuts and grazes. Alfina tried to get up, for only the glass wall to shatter, showering her in glittery knives. Shards of glass digging into her abdomen, dark liquid pooled out of her wounds, coloring the ice she was lying on.
She was so cold, and it hurt so much, all Alfina wanted to do was give up and lie there and watch as the glass painted her miserable picture in blood. But she couldn’t do that. Even though there was nothing to live for, she wouldn’t die.
But that was her fate, her cruel destiny, as was it the destiny of everyone in the world. And despite Alfina’s best efforts, she couldn’t stop karma enveloping her. She stayed on the floor, unloved and helpless. To stay there forevermore, until her world faded to black, and her skin paled.
Through half-lidded eyes, she was met with a blurry image of a little girl, wearing a dress the color of canary.
“Will you play with me?”

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