Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25835580-20141209001230

Hazel glared at her reflection. Although she was only 7, she had a pretty good idea that something was wrong with her. That is, her body was a little...contorted.

Her fingers twisted around themselves, mangled up in knots. Her toes curved upwards, and her nails grew into her skin instead of out, causing excruciating pain and blood to spill everywhere. Her parents feared for her life. They were surprised she even lasted this long. The thing is, Hazel's parents never sent her to school because of the way she looked, and no doctors could do anything. She was stuck like that. Forever, or until her she died from the whole nail thing. Hazel got sick of sleepless nights and spending hours just looking at herself. She got paler day by day, and eventually her skin looked so white, she looked dead. She tried cutting her face of, to get rid of the pale. The sharp knife felt like ice on her flesh, as it peeled away at her skin, blood staining the carpet. She screamed in pain, wishing that she could not feel it. Her mother had taught her of the five senses: sight, hearing, tasting, smelling, and touching. Touching was feeling. She grabbed hold of her blade again, slapping a paper towel on her face to stop the blood from dripping. She lay her hand on a table, and braced herself for more pain then she had ever felt. The knife pierced her wrist, chopping off her left hand. "I can still feel!" She screamed, seething with rage. The paper towel was drenched in blood. She looked across the room at her mirror, and shouted with anger, throwing her knife at it with her good hand. "I hate seeing myself! My senses are not good!" She jabbed her thumbs into her eyes, and tore them out of their sockets. "Now I cannot see how I look. I need someone else to tell me." With that, she hobbled her way to her window (she knew her own room very well.) and used her good hand to smash it. She jumped out and landed with a "crunch" on her legs. She didn't care. She limped around the streets, until she came across a door. ''Bang. Bang. Bang.'' She crashed against the door. A manly voice answered, "Oh, hello there-" his voice cut off by a sound of disgust. The man looked at Hazel with a timid face, although Hazel did not know. "How do I look?" The man screamed and called to his wife, "Honey! Call the Police! Now!" Hazel did not like these words. "My senses are not good!" With that, one by one, she ripped off her ears and sighed. "Now I cannot hear mean words." Hazel turned around and as she hobbled onto the road, rivers of blood came into her mouth. She did not like this taste. "My senses... are not GOOD!" and with that, she ripped out her tongue forcefully. This hurt, of course. But she didn't care.

Hazel only has one sense now: smell. She's gotten quite good at it. She can smell you. She cannot see, feel, taste, or hear you, but she can smell you. And to her, everyone smells like their senses are not good either. She will help you. And she wont care. 