Autumn.B.Coleman

United States of America

“But I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.”

― Aldous Huxley, Brave New World

Message from Writer

A lover of all things literature, pressed flowers and astronomy, here to attempt to empty my mind on a page.

The Velveteen Rabbit

November 24, 2019

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GROUP: True Stories

Sitting on a bed, cross-legged as the afternoon sun peered in through the curtains, I obediently listened to Grandma. The stories she read me were akin to hypnosis in my mind: I never interrupted, just patiently watched as she turned page after page of her old childhood books. Todays chosen tale: The Velveteen Rabbit. Picked precisely by six year old me over my love of stuffed animals.
    She then began stitching the quilt of this story together in my mind. A stuffed rabbit, joyfully gifted on Christmas just wants to me held, loved and cherished. As a young girl, this story portrayed strange feelings I had not known how to register yet. He was then all at once alone, cold, comprehending his reality. As he pondered this, he shed a tear, a true tear, steaking down his worn cheek. It was then that I collapsed into deep sobs, a miniature version of me weeping into my grandmothers shoulder in the orange setting sun. Already a sensitive child, my tears were brushed off and bandaged with a cold glass of extra sweet chocolate milk. 
    Yet this was a beginning. A start, for me, down the road of overwhelming emotions and misunderstood cognition. I would remember this feeling through elementary school in my glistening copy of Poe's' The Black Cat. Once again, far to much for my already frantic feelings and I never finished it, even to this day.
    Then on and on, it seemed my sensitivity grew along with my body, and I always remembered the velveteen rabbit. HIs "sawdust heart" always akin to my fragile one, I would continue to carry him along with me. His button eyes a permanent memory branded in my psyche.
    Even now, he is me. Alone in his mind at times and wanting love, a love to make him feel real.
    The ending I missed all those years ago was of a lonely rabbit finding his reality, he was turned into a living breathing creature when his heart ached so badly until he couldn't take much more.
    I suppose it was this bitter sweet ending that hit the hardest, but I still feel him. The velveteen rabbit, as a representation of my anxiety but on some deeper understanding, a representation of me.  

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  • November 24, 2019 - 10:59pm (Now Viewing)

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