How do you start a story off about a perfect little creature much like Thumbelina in an already beautiful and sunny world? Do you describe the sun that rises over the hills of blueberries, or describe our hero awakening from their slumber? Do you pretend to open the aging pages of a book, and begin reading, “Once Upon a Time…”?

No, actually. You don’t start off such a tale in any such ridiculous and popular way. With a fawn already sweet, you would expect a kind story turned lullaby about her happy adventures prancing around and helping those in need. So is that even a story? Not really. Then what is? Where’s the conflict in such a state as perfection? Why, it’s right there. Perfection itself is the problem. Because, after all, nothing is perfect...



Tears lovingly stroked the blades of grass they slipped down upon, falling furiously in such patterns that the plants around mistook the situation as rain. This was not possible, however, for it could not rain while snowing. Or could it? Curious and very confused, single flowers shivered under the heavy weight of snow, trying to see what the source of dripping water was. They were slightly comforted yet disturbed to see that it was all thanks to a tiny fawn, much smaller than average and completely different in appearance. Collecting their thoughts, all signs of life in all forms turned away from the emotion-drained doe to leave her in complete peace, letting themselves be forever buried under tiny flakes of dancing snow.

Because of the chilly air many deer took to the warmth of the tree, where they all shared their body heat in order to stay alive from such harsh conditions. Inside this giant of bark, it was almost like the awakening of spring, where cold was slowly replaced with blooming chatter and forgiving temperatures. Everyone here was happy. Yet there was one little deer that was not among this favoring party, and that was Porcelain. She was the reason for the confused plants wondering about the rain when it was truly and simply tears running down her rainbow cheeks.

Porcelain could hardly be considered a doe, or even a stag, and not a deer, either. At least not in appearance. Porcelain was not made of skin and fur, but rather of glassy substances with a coat of shining gloss, hence she got her name. She was forever hollow inside with only her skeleton and tiny, beating heart thumping against her chest. Everything about her was fragile. She hated how she was naturally as small as a rabbit and loathed that she had to watch every movement she made in order to not break herself. But most of all she disliked the fact that she could not feel. She had lost her sense of touch all because she was made of that light-through-rainbow texture of porcelain, china, and anything else that was breakable.

She blended perfectly well with the soft but crunchy snow, her white frame and opaque, glossy coverings even shining as it did. She could not feel the tears she shed and did not know she was crying, but she did know how upset she was. Haunting thoughts began to own her mind. A puny fawn such as herself would never attract a man. She would never be able to feel the tickle of grass against her hooves, would not ever know how to describe the weather because she could not feel the warmth of the sun and the chill of the rain.

We will leave our character to rest now, alone and on her own. Perhaps tomorrow our story will begin in a lighter fashion. She might even be skipping around like her normal, happy self, laughing with friends and comforting those that feel down much like she does now. It’s hard to comfort yourself when you’re the one that never needs comforted and gives all of their love to all but your own heart. No one was out in the open like she was, either. The howl of the wind matched the sound of gusts whipping through one of her ears and back out the other, hollow and empty. A low, shaking note was tuned inside her body as if echoing her bare thoughts and mocking how light she was. Always mocking. Even the snow seemed to be out only to have fun sliding down her smooth, white back and down her pale stomach. She felt she should never smile again.