Everything her hands touched would turn to stone and when she let go, the unfeeling beautiful newborn statue would crumble into dust. She learned from a young age not to touch what she loved, only admire from a safe distance with a sad smile catching her lips.
Even as they took after her with their sticks and their stones, she never batted an eye lash at the stinging wounds. She knew what she could do to them but all she ever reacted with was a devious little smile. Their words cut straight into her heart, laughing at the strange isolation of the beautiful girl hidden away in the shadows.
Oh but if only they knew.
Eventually she began to fade into dark places. Her mind would wonder into a world where she could be as intimate with her admiration as she watched others in their love. She’d cry sometimes and her hands would shake.
Once, someone did try to come near her and to hold her, but she’d run for dear life.
“I don’t want to lose you,” she’d explained from the other side of the room with tears streaming down fiery cheeks.
They never understood though.
And one day she grew selfish. She gave in to the calls and the questions. Gave in and reached out to her admirer.
“Here then, let me feel your soft skin,” she whispered gently.
But stone is unforgiving and harsh. Her fingers were cursed and her touch could only destroy. Beneath her selfish palm was a hard, stone surface of someone she’d once called friend. Devastation broke her ribs with it’s entrance and sadness crushed her lungs. The loneliness crashed down upon her weak little shoulders as she was suddenly reminded of the humiliation of being trapped in this curse. Without letting go of such an abrupt and hard beauty, she reached into her chest with her free hand. Clutching her shattering heart and gasping in one last choked breath before she joined her love in a cold forever where they could never be together.