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Hello. My name is Vicky Vanderbilt (or Victoria if you want to get told off), the defective girl of a town called Applegale. Now, if you took a look at me right as I am writing this, you would probably think I am an average looking girl, with a curvy body, curly brown hair and almond shaped brown eyes like my beautiful mother, only my mother is thin and her hair is pin straight. However, in the town that I used to live in, Below average is taboo. Average is not good enough. To survive in this demented town, you had to be perfect. It was the way of life.
Now, to others, Applegale might appear to be a beautiful and wealthy suburban town. The streets are lined with lush emerald trees, the air is filled with the perfume of apple blossoms, and the houses are exquisitely crafted Victorian mansions, surrounded with professionally landscaped lawns. Also, the people are so perfect and pristine as well, from their attitudes to their appearances. A smile is always planted on their beautiful faces, no matter how they feel inside. You will never see a down face in Applegale; you will only see happy and blissful faces strutting around the neighborhood with their flawlessly sculpted bodies.
But do not let the outside appearance of Applegale fool you. Even though they appear perfect, they are poisoned and brainwashed in the inside. They will do everything to have everyone and everything to look perfect- no matter what. They continue to be as wealthy as possible, to continue to have everything their heart desires. Also, they strive to be beautiful , to spend three hours every single day working out in the gym, and to correct any grotesque flaws by making a visit to their beloved plastic surgeon. And most of all, each family in Applegale mold themselves and give up their individuality to mold themselves. The men are the ones who earn the riches, while they run their household in their Roman God like stature. The homemaker only have to be as beautiful, frail, and pristine as possible and help raise the children to conform into the society-if they have any. And the children supposed to be perfect, well mannered and must obtain book intelligence, who must conform into the Applegale's ways.
And for anyone who doesn't meet the requirements of perfection in Applegale, they are either alienated, secretly ridiculed, or made perfect by countless bottles of cosmetics or plastic surgery. Some, however, were even killed in result of being defective, from being drowned in Orchid lake, to complications in result of being under the knife of the process of being the prototypes of perfection. Some even committed suicide, because they could not take the society of Applegale so much longer. But people from the outside world never knew any of the towns imperfections, due to bribery. Most citizens in Applegale were multi millionaires, so they gave a large fortune to keep the grieving family and the police force quiet. Usually, they gave in to the large pile of money and never spoke another word about it. Applegale was an unofficial dictatorship, with most of the citizens being the dictator to themselves.
But, I was lucky for only being alienated, instead of killed from my fellow neighbors. When I was born, I was a very beautiful baby, always adored by others. But as I got older, my deformity began to settle into my skin. I was cursed by discoloration as a large spot stood out in on the side of my face. My parents, ashamed and embarrassed by having a deformed child, immediately took me to get it fixed. But after the plastic surgeon practically laughed in my parent's face and told me that a seven year old was way too young to go under the knife, they gave up their plans to cancel out my flaws.Well almost, at least.
Right after we came from the plastic surgeon's office, I can remember that whole scene when I was in the car with my parents. I can remember the atmosphere. It was so thick with tension, that I could barely breathe. Then, I can vividly remember my mother asks my father,
"James. Can we please go to the mall right now? It's important."
He replied, "Alice, I do not see why not. But do not take long. I have a meeting at 4."
So we pulled up to the mall's parking lot. I never was so fond of going to the mall, so normally, I always stayed in the car with my dad.
But then, my mother demanded, "Victoria. Please get out of the car. You are going with me today."
"But I do not want to go mom!" I replied, as tears started to caress my eyes.
"Now!", She ordered.
So I climbed out of the car with my mother, as she grabbed my hand. At first, I was very oblivious of why she was taking me to the mall with her when she already knew that I hated it. Then suddenly, the reason washed over me and consumed me like a giant wave.
We walked all through the mall, through perfect families with their children who stared at the side of my face, groups of teenagers whispered and giggled to one another when of seeing me, and even solitary people looked up. I just wanted to disappear. I wanted to melt and saturate into the floor so escape that horrible feeling of being the freak.
Then, finally, we stopped at a cosmetic boutique. We entered the store, and I was overwhelmed by expensive smells of perfume and body cream. Not surprisingly, the store was only occupied by only a few customers, excluding the salesperson, who was walking towards our direction.
When she was only a couple feet away from my mom and I she glanced at my mother, and then at me, Her eyes immediately flinched at my sight and then it immediately went back to my mother. Then she asked, "Hello. How may I help you?"
My mom smiled with her pearly white smile and then replied, "Yes. Where can I find the foundation?"
The salesperson pointed over to the left of the small boutique as she said, " It's right over there, Here, let me show you."
We followed her as she guided us, and I could not help but to look at her. She was the typical resident of Applegale, with a heart shaped face ,occupied with prominent blue eyes and full, cherry lacquered lips, with silky, chestnut colored locks cascading down her back. Her body was also very thin and long, clad in a clean and crisp Ralph Lauren polo, khaki Bermuda shorts, and her feet fitted perfectly in her wedges. I would not be surprised if she used to be a supermodel.
Then we arrived there, to the shelf of countless foundation bottles, concealer, and face powder.
"Thank you so much for helping us.", My mother said
" No problem miss.", the salesperson replied.
After a long period of time, my mother finally chose one bottle of foundation, that was my exact skin color, and a tube of concealer. Then we walked up to the counter as she paid for the items with the credit card. Then, we finally left.
A hour after I got home, I was sitting in my room, playing with dolls, deep in my imagination based world. Then, a knock, followed by a voice brought me back into reality.
"Victoria? Are you in there?", my mother asked.
"Yes Mom."
"Well I need to speak to you.", she demanded.
My bedroom door opened.
After my mother walked in with her tote and settled in an overstuffed chair, she said, " Come over here, would you?"
I grabbed a pillow, and then sat on the floor across from her.
Then she asked, " Do you want to know why I took you with me to the cosmetic boutique?"
"No.", I lied, still in denial about the whole situation.
" Well Victoria, I do not want you to be the freak of this neighborhood with that scar. I cannot take you to the plastic surgeon, so here is the product that will make you normal."
"But Mom," I asked, "what does it matter whether I am normal or not? Why can't I be a regular kid?"
"Vicky, let me give you a bit of wisdom here. People in this town do not care about the inner contents of you, they only care about your appearance. They will judge you by that scar and only by it; and they would not care how you are really like if you are flawed. So please follow my advice, or your life in this town will be a terrible place for many years to come."
My mother bent down and reached into her tote, then grabbed the foundation and face powder.
She continued," So here is the product that will make you normal. Please wear it or you're not going to fit in this society. In fact, I am going to show you how to put it on right now."
So, without hesitation, I let her apply the foundation, even though in the inside, I was screaming, begging her to stop. I did not want this oily stuff on my skin like an adult; I wanted to be a kid. However, on that day, I was not a kid anymore. That was the first day of trying to be the prototype of Applegale. I truly apologize for too much description and other grammatical errors I have overlooked! I really have to work on that.
Anyways, constructive criticism and overall opinions are welcome. Yes, I could.
Who is going to read one-thousand-five-hundred-seventy-two words? People just want to write a one word answer and get 3 points. That is amazing! Let me guess: it's a parody to America and how we value "perfection" too much. The one thing I would do would be to add some more background information, i.e friends more details about the town, etc. Describe the parents' personalities. And I don't think the word "prototype" is the right word in your last sentence.
Otherwise, that is a very good story. Keep writing!
Edit: Yea, you do need a better hook, and your beginning is cliche. And you do tend to be over-the-top on some of the descriptions. No hook in the beggining, just rambling about non-relevant stuff. Very cliche to use the 'Hi, my name is so and so, and so and so". Start off in the middle of action which is called in medias res. Good detail, covers the senses, but be careful whether you are using too much.
Is this your own voice? How many times do you use prototype in real life. Big words are good, but let's not go over the top. Great message there! But maybe a more attention catcher beginning-something or a sentence that would hook the readers to be curious and to keep on reading it on and on.
Good luck~
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