vindication

konichiwa and good day fellow bloggers! i am being threatened by greenpanda to put the first chapter of my story up for him to read, so i shall but as a form of passive resistance, i shall only put to prologue up. haha. take that conformity!
before you read, please be warned that i overused the theasaurus with this one so keep one handy. also this is a horror/murder mystery/weird story, and although the prologue isn't bad, i intend te rest to be slightly more...graphic...
please try to enjoy it and give feedback if you will.

by the way, it's called 'Vindication'



On the walls, a canvas of gore and fleshy innards, framing that warped art. A perverse masterpiece. A rotting, mutilated shell of a person, wide orbs hollow and blank. Staring but never seeing, his face a picture of silent revulsion, rusted ruby liquid trickling from open wounds, a metallic scent lingering in the air, humid with heavy breathing. Stripped bare of his outer layers and thrown against ashen plaster walls. The handsome teen’s corpse was slumped, pale blood-drained arms outstretched as if begging to be saved. Coaxing me into what might’ve been a friendly embrace. It might’ve been if not for the oozing gashes, cherry incisions engraved across his wrist, inner thighs and slender neck. The corners of his open mouth slit from ear to ear in a feral, sadistic grin that adorned his petrified visage. However, despite his gruesome smile, I know his demise was neither swift nor painless. After all, I like them to feel the end draw closer. To me, that mangled and scarred body was stunning. The crimson flow resting on pallid milky skin, the once glowing flaxen hair now dull, matted and ripe with his own scarlet essence. Death had enhanced his natural good looks and bore art more inspirational then anything ever witnessed.
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It reminded me of a china doll I had when I was his age. My mama used to collect them, pristine clothing, soft features. She must have had hundreds. She loved their flawless, impassive faces that never contorted in fear, loved their subtle painted eyes that never shed tears when they were thrown against icy stairs, no voices to shriek out in pain as she struck them. Over and over and over again. Unlike me. I was mama’s living, breathing doll. The only one with a heartbeat. I was unique. Singular. Distinctive. Individual… different compared to my porcelain friends.
I was mama’s plaything to exploit at will. Just a fragile, cherished puppet dancing to my mama’s every whim. How I loathed her. That malicious snake who kept me sheltered all of my lonely life. Locked up from the brutal, pitiless world with only painted eyes to defend me. Every day I sat in that pitch black room and listened to poisonous pitch black words. Safe from the world but never safe from her. She would come in, slamming the door and, without warning; screech her venomous words at me.
It was on a harsh winter’s darkness that it finally happened. Mama was fast asleep and had left my door unlocked by mistake. I snuck out. Descending creaking stairs. Booming footfalls echoing. Resonating in the hush of the night. Across mahogany floorboards and to mama’s sleeping outline, a weighty china figurine clasped tightly in my sweating hands. Slim limbs raised and ridged, lifting the heavy doll fixed above mama’s head. Laughing, I crashed the porcelain doll fiercely onto her skull. Again and again. Her wicked voice screaming in my head a mix of terror and fury. Again and again. Until my blows halted and she moved no more. Eyes open and cloudy, a bottle of clear liquor knocked over, mixing with her dark cerise fluids. My pulse a violent drum, my forehead dripping with liquid dread, adrenaline surging. I felt… I felt…… alive….
Mama never woke up but I was glad. Proud of myself. Righteous. Mama looked just like my toys. Cold, stoic and soulless. The porcelain figure I used was coated in mama, shining crimson on its vindictive face. Broken and shattered. Like mama. Like the boy. Like me.


voila. proof of my general weirdness.

to other news...there is none. i think i have the most boringly unusual life ever. nothing happens and then suddenly, something really bad happens. never a safe medium. *sigh* ah well, you only live once so make the most of it.
peace out yo!