The Parties Under The Bridge

Liera was never invited to any of the parties under the bridge. Not even tonight's, which had been promised to be the best of the year. It wasn't even that they were invitation only; she was just terrified that someone would notice that she wouldn't belong, that she hadn't been asked to come along and had just arrived.

Like an icicle in the Sahara, Liera stood out in a crowd. She did not fit into the picture. Sometimes she, herself, noticed this. Mostly when her face was shadowed out of the photographs, or when, on rare occasions, she seemed to be giving off a pearlescent glow. Almost to say, "Here I am, notice me and the fact that I am different."

Tonight, Liera was glowing harder then ever as she trekked along the train tracks toward the river crossing. The music reached her ears before even the scent of cigarette smoke did. It was loud, intoxicating, and rhythmic beyond all belief. It pumped through her like blood, and she found herself like-wise depending on it to keep her going.

Liera caught sight of a shadow, hanging over the bridge; like a canopy of protection from the outside world. It hovered, delicately woven of the innocence of the children, slightly growing in size as she edged nearer. She was not sure if it was growing simply from perspective.

The bridge was alive. The beach side, infested. Music blared from every possible speaker, many different tunes at once. Liera reached the end of the tracks and stood, shadowed behind the bushes. She watched, and like a cool drink of fresh water, she drank them in. She was a peeper, a watcher. She wished only to observe, but never to participate.

Voices of the kids crept up in the thick summer air towards her, taunting her. "What are you doing here? You do not belong." The shadow above roared it's agreement, it trembled, it shook, and proceeded to sprinkle the night with a light summer rain. Liera watched from the outside, and even when everyone scrambled under the bridge and into pulled over pick-up trucks to avoid the wetness, she seemed untouched by the water at all. Not a single drop reached her, proof again that she was not wanted.

Liera was never invited to any of the parties under the bridge. Not even tonight's. But she watched, like she had done every time before. She did not fit in with the crowd, perhaps her life was destined to be that of an outsider looking in. She was invisible, she was remarkably noticeable. She was distinct.

She was alone while she watched the party, with only the shadow of innocence to talk to. It talked much, for it had many tales to tell. Many secrets to divulge. Liera drank up every inch of this "outside world" like a tall drink of fresh water. And when the rain finally stopped along the beach, it rained a bit on her. For once, Liera did not see it as being left out, she saw it as her being the only one.