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Some story that I wrote like uh.. a month ago, I think.-
Once upon a time - if time were to exist in such a place at all - lived a young girl in a peculiar place, a land full of oddities and macabre fate, carousels and the scenery of dulled sepia photographs, broken wires and story books. The nameless young girl, with her dark hair and light eyes and her babydoll attire, danced and twirled for no one, like the porcelain doll in an antique music box.
This girl had a fascination with her out-of-place plush doll; a nearly insane attachment to the ragged and torn toy. It was in the shape of a beautiful animal, yet no one could ever decide quite what it was. Some said it was a fox, or a cat, and some simply spat that the thing was an atrocious misfortune that should be none of the like, and trashed immediately . . . as should she. Yet the little porcelain girl, even when shattered, held dearly onto the deity that in itself was only held together by thread and voodoo pins. After all it had never done her wrong, never once would a long needle slip lose to let blood.
Until she began to take her love for granted. Losing interest in her childish fixations and whoring it out freely to the first nice thing that caught her eye, was when it all began to come undone and fall apart. The pins severed her flesh and, highly offended, she had had enough, she was through. Screaming, raged, crying she threw all of the things that she had held so dear into the banishment known as a packing box and pushed it away...
And nonexistent time passed for the girl. She had changed - perhaps no longer a small figurine, but now a butterfly, as butterflies do change in time, once they pry from their silken chrysalises. Though now she wasn't quite sure what she was, or had been, and oh, how many questions there were. People had learned to accept this confused little girl, yet ... she longed for it no more. Cared not much for the embraces of so many blinded souls, as there was still something missing from her, and she was scared and left out in the open like wounded prey.
She hid away, from herself and everyone else, and began to dig through her memories. Box by box, cutting away the clear tape, pulling things out putting them back in, repeating, repeating, repeating. Finally, she found what she had been searching for, and for a moment, a weak smile played across her face. Even danced, like the innocence she had once been...
Everything peeled away, as if it never mattered. This place was dark, but warm as to show that it was not void, and the sound of a music box spiraled about it. There was, indeed, a music box; the lid propped by it's hinges and such strange contents as old pins, candies, and gauze bandages. It was the peace offering and her last hope of sanity, that she placed in front of an empty closet. She sat waiting, deciding if this was the right thing, and then, with a pensive sigh she let go of the key. The music once again filled the air. The dancer began to spin. Her voice shook,
"I miss you... Please, come out to play."
Staring forward into nothing, the girl began to give up, and she silently began to curse herself as she knew things would not work so easily, so ... childishly. Then it happened. A slight noise, and a hand began to slide out of the closet - pink tipped fingers fading to black; then further it came, the black fading and spotted to orange. It crawled out on it's knees, black decay dripping out from the sewing that decorated it's ivory underbelly. The creature was stuck full of strange pins; it was a demon of a rotting candy voodoo doll, all stitched and pinned together.
She was not afraid, not anymore.
The girl and her creature smiled and embraced each other as everything continued melting away around them. They faded into the same existance as it became her shell. And they stayed there, forever (if there was such a thing, as the word means less than time...)
Hiding away and intertwined in that dark place.
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antique orgel
Linear Mode
