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Highschooler who is aspiring to become a journalist! Vote for me!
Nails
Nov 18, 2017 6 years agoEveryone in my family has different nails. My papa has ugly laborer's nails. His nails are clean, rough, and clipped down to the skin―pudgy. My older brother's nails are just the same. Only now, he's started to clip and clean them―just like papa's. And me, my nails are all messed up. Unclipped, dirt sleeping underneath, and the peeling of skin all around. The nails of a dreamer. Mom says I'll grow prettier nails when I sit long enough for her to paint them. My mother's nails are like freshly powdered snow, delicate with no imperfections. She uses her nails for everything, like a tool for being the perfect housewife and mother. Her nails always smelled of vanilla, mine smelled of tree sap. At night, when I've had bad dreams and would crawl into her bed―I would hold her hands and the vanilla would engulf my nose. I'd fall asleep smelling sweet vanilla. The day my mother's nails stopped smelling like vanilla, my nails started smelling like death. We laid her into the ground and all I looked at was how my nails looked so pretty. Though my nails looked like my mother's, the smell of death never left my hands. My father and brother could smell the scent on me. No matter how many times I scrubbed, lathered, or painted my nails―they still smelled like death.
