Radical ~ Changes

Nobody recognizes her when she came back from her three month immersion in Europe. Where was the sweet, cute as a button girl who was in tears in front of the security check at the airport? Where were was the shy little thing who never rose her voice higher than a whisper? And where was the little angel with her long blond locks and her dimples? All gone.

The change was radical. The three months had literally metamorphosed Elizabeth; she didn’t even acknowledge the affectionate nickname Beth she’d born since she was a kid. Beth was for children. She was now an adult, at the ripe age of 16.

Her parents were shocked but they got over the change fast enough; 24/7 with their daughter would ensure they did. Her brother felt it was high time she stopped being shy, but he wouldn’t let her be obnoxious: he was the eldest, and as such he had precedence when it came to controlling the conversation. Her younger sister was a little lost and wouldn’t have recognized her big sister if she hadn’t read bedtime stories as before.

No the radical change shocked everyone at school. Teachers and students alike; more so the latter as it happened. Who could have known that a short pixie hair cut, a little bit of make-up and 6 extra-centimetres, not including the pumps she wore, would turn boring Betsy (she hated that nickname the popular girls gave her) into a hot babe? And there was the piercings she hadn’t had when she left for Europe.

Some said it was trashy: but she didn’t care. Others said she was hot: she didn’t care either. Somehow she found in Europe who she was. Being away from everybody for that long, making her own choice in what to wear, what to eat: it helped her find her own voice. She tested everything: she wasn’t obnoxious, but neither was she the little mouse scared of her own voice anymore. She wasn’t into gothic dressing – black made her look even paler than she was – but she enjoyed the vintage style, polkadot dresses and the shoes. Having her hair cut was a liberation.

A metamorphose indeed: she was flying away like a butterfly finally out of its caterpillar phase.


In response to the Daily Post writing prompt Radical


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