Bitterness of Human Nature

     She was strange. Strange as could be. Villagers whispered about her, about what was wrong with her. Yes, Veilla von Baurauche was queer. But what else could be expected from such a chaotic soul?

     Veilla von Baurauche. Even the name was chaotic. Fitting, for such a mess filled mind. The only way to let those pent up dreams, nightmares, whispers in the dark, evil laughter, wild winds, was through paper and pen. Screams turned into incoherent scratches, an image only the artist can comprehend.

     She was born different. As a child, she never cried, never screamed, never talked. Even the most expensive healer in town didn't know what was wrong with the child. It was as if when the child was born, she decided to choose the path of silence. Her parents were ashamed. How was it possible that the wealthiest, richest, most high-class family in the entire town of Arcdeville had a dysfunctional child? Cruel and shallow as those two were, they abandoned her on the side of the river, leaving her only with a twisted name. She was silent throughout the whole affair.

     Somehow, life was pitying, and an old fisherman adopted her. But this wasn't a fairy tale where the girl grows up happily and falls in love with a prince. She still lived in poverty. The old fisherman eventually passed away when she turned 16, just barely old enough to fend for herself. And that she did. But, no matter what, she continued to keep silent.

     Three years later, she was alone, physically and emotionally. When she walked down the dusty, sandy street to buy more vegetables for dinner, all other noises were blocked out. Instead of her feet ahead of her, she saw storm clouds, ice, winds, and the stars. She floated through life. Still she kept silent.

     Four years later, she had completed more that 123 separate sheets filled to the brim with black ink scratched that twisted, turned, and ripped through the pages. Even the most creative person could not grasp what the picture depicted, excluding a mess. What they didn't know was that a mess was what it really was. Chaos. Madness. Silence. Thoughts. Herself. The drawings held all of it. But no one else knew, because she kept silent.

     Silent. From her first taste of life to her last, bitter breath. She was criticized, mocked, jeered at for it. She had been avoided. All because she was different. All because she was creative. All because she was dumb.
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So that's the end of a short, very short, piece. It may have been a little confusing and twisted, which if so, I apologize. This was very spur of the moment. It's to show how people are too judgmental. Also, just to make sure it's clear, "dumb" in here means that she can't talk. The character was born without a voice, which the term "dumb" applies to. So no, she's not stupid.