the short story project


Cindy Lopez

going to the tailor’s house was exciting, thinking about all the things I could do with the little pieces of cloth that he would give me, what little clothes my little dolls could make, I arrived at that place with a huge smile without guessing that I would come out with my soul as broken as all those pieces of cloth.

amazed at the sewing machines and how much material I could pick up from the floor of the dark house on two floors, I lost for a few moments the notion of time and lost sight of my parents who were busy in the process of taking the measurements, no matter if the tailor was a close relative of my father, no one cares to lose sight of me, it was the tailor’s house, nothing could happen to me.

when walking through one of the corridors of the house I discovered a boy older than me some years, I could say that he was a teenager, dressed in a green shorts and striped shirt, very pale skin, and a lost look, he looked at me in a friendly way ; and he invited me to go with him to one of the rooms in the house; there is something I want to show you in my room, he said smiling … at 6 years old I could not suspect that I should not go with him, I could not imagine that he was about to mark my life as his father the tailor marked the fabrics with chalk white to cut them

He whispered to me that I was silent and a chill paralyzed me with fear to see him lock the door, with one hand covering my mouth and with the other caressed my legs while raising my skirt, not much I can remember after 30 years of that day, I remember the green of his shorts, his almost transparent white skin that showed his greenish veins, I remember his lips, and the disgusting phrase “this will be our secret, you are my girlfriend”

After that day, my parents did not return to the tailor’s house, they did not mention their family’s name again, as if not mentioning it would erase the damage, nobody ever asked anything, they just kept on with their lives thinking that I would never remember , believing that when I played with my dolls and dressed them with the same pieces of cloth that I had taken from that house I did not feel fear and pain again, I always stayed with that moment, that day I saw my innocence as a fabric was torn , and until today I must patch up my soul from time to time.

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