Ophelia could see the sunset from her father's study. The way the orange dominated a portion of the sky always fascinated her. Ophelia grabbed the paper from her dad's blank paper stack and drew until her little heart was content. When she was done she'd place it along with her other drawings. John always explained to Ophelia that she was different and that came with certain treatment. But despite how different she was John loved her more than life.
"Ophelia just what do you reckon should be your punishment for being in here?" John's tall lanky body stood in the doorway fixin' to give Ophelia the sternest talking to.
"Daddy I was just drawing you a pretty picture, see" She held the picture up and grinned a toothy grin. "It's very beautiful Ophie but for the last time stay out cause I can't promise you it'll be me to find you in here you understand?" Her head hung low and she placed the picture where the others were "Yes sir" She sniffled he picked her head up and kissed her on the forehead. "Now go on downstairs and clean the porch off with the others." Ophelia was the darkest of John's children but she wasn't as dark as the ones in the fields. Her skin drew A lot of attention especially to John's wife Sarah who reminded Ophie every chance she got that she was beneath her. Ophie made sure to stay out of Sarah's way during the day but at night there was hell to pay. Sarah would tell the little girl the most gruesome of stories about how many slaves were killed out back. Sarah went as far to tell her about the voodoo she dabbled in and made sure to tell her about the Shadowman. The Shadowman paid a visit or two his lanky shadow was casted by the moon. "Ophelia follow me to the other side." The Shadowman would say and he would often tickle her feet but this time he didn't come. Ophie got up out her sleep and snuck to John's study hoping to get some better rest and wanting to be as far away from her room as possible. This time Ophelia would draw on the opposite side of her sunset drawing a picture of a tall man with a cane and a dog before closing her eyes and falling asleep. The next morning John checked for Ophelia high and low. Sarah appeared in the doorway of Ophie's room with disdain in her eyes as she watched her husband search around. "Where is Ophelia?" He held onto her drawings as tears cascaded down his pale face. She sighed and sat next to him holding her husband as he shuddered. "Where is she?" He repeated over and over. John felt as if his breath was snatched from him. A piece of her broke to watch the man she loved cry over a negro child.
"John, Ophelia does not exist." She smiled to herself.
YOU ARE READING
Ophelia (A Short Story)
General FictionJohn's love for his daughter Ophelia is a pester to his wife Sarah. John being mentally sick Sarah convinces him the daughter he once had was apart of his imagination.
