Squirt
Bluelight Crew
- Joined
- Apr 13, 2000
- Messages
- 2,899
There was a royal blue carpet spread out on the floor. A single, simple,
wooden chair rested upon it, dead center, its back to the door on the
opposite side of the room. She, dressed in what looked like a white Roman
toga, appeared in the doorway, resting her hand on the frame and gazing at
the chair. It was as if the chair had stolen all of her life's memories and
she was so sad that she didn't have them anymore. Timidly, she stepped into
the room, onto the royal blue carpet, and touched the chair so cautiously as
if it were going to electricute her. She sat down, her back to the door, clutching the side of the chair as if it were the only thing afloat in a flood.
Silent as a fox, he took her place in the doorway and quietly looked upon her with fierce, obsessed, hot eyes. Somehow she could not feel them pressing into the back of her head. He crept closer, the royal blue carpet absorbing the sound of his every step... Finally she sensed his breath and calmly said, "I knew you'd be here sooner or later." He stopped dead in his tracks, not expecting his fool-proof plan to be foiled, and regained his composure quickly enough to reply with "You honestly expected less?" "No. I suppose not," she returned.
He walked up behind her, running his long talons through her straw hair, examining every inch of what he could see of her; scalp, shoulders, and nose... So tempting.. So irresistable... She reached up and grabbed his fingers, removing them from her head. "No thank you. I have a comb." He had never been so angry, so put out. He visciously threw his hands down onto her shoulders, making her throw her head back in a painful wince, exposing her innocent neck. "You know I don't put up with insolence. You know what I do to the insolent." She was trying with all her might to stay calm, trying with all her might to ignore the pain of his fingernails digging into her soft skin, into her collar bone, into her shoulder blades... He kept squeezing, expecting an answer, an apology, from her. Finally, they cut the skin and she screamed in a tense agony -- it was the shriek of dying glory.
Then, a blood red orb of light and power and obsession grew from his hands; his hands that were covered in her blood, her mercy, and her sacrifice. The sphere grew to fill the entire room, bleeding on the royal blue carpet, staining her white clothing, drenching his long talons. His laughter was enough to drive her mad. She held her ears, wiping the blood from her body as best she could, but to no avail because it was not stopping. She screamed in pain and for salvation, but to no avail because her screams were inaudible to anybody but herself. The more she screamed, the more he laughed, and the more the orb bled.
She threw herself onto the sopping royal blue carpet, writhing every which way, trying to escape the pain, the insanity, the rain of blood. At last, his laughing subsided to a mere spiteful grin as he whispered "Farewell." He turned and walked out the door, not turning to look over his shoulder as he left.
And she was left for eternity, in her bleeding red orb on the royal blue carpet, screaming and crying, with only one wish of it all stopping; the wish of peace again; the wish of the white clothes; the wish of the clean, dry royal blue carpet.
But to no avail.
wooden chair rested upon it, dead center, its back to the door on the
opposite side of the room. She, dressed in what looked like a white Roman
toga, appeared in the doorway, resting her hand on the frame and gazing at
the chair. It was as if the chair had stolen all of her life's memories and
she was so sad that she didn't have them anymore. Timidly, she stepped into
the room, onto the royal blue carpet, and touched the chair so cautiously as
if it were going to electricute her. She sat down, her back to the door, clutching the side of the chair as if it were the only thing afloat in a flood.
Silent as a fox, he took her place in the doorway and quietly looked upon her with fierce, obsessed, hot eyes. Somehow she could not feel them pressing into the back of her head. He crept closer, the royal blue carpet absorbing the sound of his every step... Finally she sensed his breath and calmly said, "I knew you'd be here sooner or later." He stopped dead in his tracks, not expecting his fool-proof plan to be foiled, and regained his composure quickly enough to reply with "You honestly expected less?" "No. I suppose not," she returned.
He walked up behind her, running his long talons through her straw hair, examining every inch of what he could see of her; scalp, shoulders, and nose... So tempting.. So irresistable... She reached up and grabbed his fingers, removing them from her head. "No thank you. I have a comb." He had never been so angry, so put out. He visciously threw his hands down onto her shoulders, making her throw her head back in a painful wince, exposing her innocent neck. "You know I don't put up with insolence. You know what I do to the insolent." She was trying with all her might to stay calm, trying with all her might to ignore the pain of his fingernails digging into her soft skin, into her collar bone, into her shoulder blades... He kept squeezing, expecting an answer, an apology, from her. Finally, they cut the skin and she screamed in a tense agony -- it was the shriek of dying glory.
Then, a blood red orb of light and power and obsession grew from his hands; his hands that were covered in her blood, her mercy, and her sacrifice. The sphere grew to fill the entire room, bleeding on the royal blue carpet, staining her white clothing, drenching his long talons. His laughter was enough to drive her mad. She held her ears, wiping the blood from her body as best she could, but to no avail because it was not stopping. She screamed in pain and for salvation, but to no avail because her screams were inaudible to anybody but herself. The more she screamed, the more he laughed, and the more the orb bled.
She threw herself onto the sopping royal blue carpet, writhing every which way, trying to escape the pain, the insanity, the rain of blood. At last, his laughing subsided to a mere spiteful grin as he whispered "Farewell." He turned and walked out the door, not turning to look over his shoulder as he left.
And she was left for eternity, in her bleeding red orb on the royal blue carpet, screaming and crying, with only one wish of it all stopping; the wish of peace again; the wish of the white clothes; the wish of the clean, dry royal blue carpet.
But to no avail.
