Smurfette's Tragedy

A hen amongst cocks I am. It’s not my fault but it’s become my burden; the only woman left to bear children to beasts.

These boys were my friends. We grew up laughing together, running through the forest, climbing trees, picking berries. Thirteen Summers of blissful ignorance about the origins of my people; where all the Smurfs come from; why I look so different to the others.

Papa, why did you have to tell me? Why did you have to tell us what “needs to be done”? Why am I the only girl in this so-called land of magic?!

No, Papa, why couldn’t you have waited just another year? Why did the smell of the air have to change so suddenly to this pungent, stale odour? Papa, where did the scent of daisies go? Where are the flowers? Why do the birds and the bees now sting so hard?

Mama Nature bore me to the Earth where I was meant to be. Why could she not bare others like me? Others so I do not have to bare them myself. Mama cursed me the day I was born to forever be alone, surrounded by friends. At least Papa let me be young for a while.

Thirteen fully clothed Springtimes watching flowers reproduce, only to discover this flower was a weed. It doesn’t blossom in the sunshine, but has chosen to crawl, slither and bind in the darkness of the night. Poison ivy; that’s what those boys are. Wound after wound between my legs and they are the ones who rub broken glass into my flesh.

All the time. I look exactly how I feel. I curse the colour of my skin. Forever bruised, tender, teased and torn. Why, Papa? Why did you have to tell them? I could have been so happy here.