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.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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!

the glasses saga: part two, and a mini-rant on adverts

hurray! i went down to the opticians this morning and got my glasses repaired! they told me that my poor, poor glasses are in dire need of being replaced. i'll feel a little sad to let them go, they have been with me everyday without fail, witnessed everything i have witnessed, and in a way they have become a part of me. in a way, man's best friend is not only the dog, but the glasses. *sigh*
ah, well.
mothers day tomorrow. no idea what i'm going to do, trust me to leave everything to the last minute. when in doubt, find something completely meaningless and claim that it made you think of her. works like a charm. if all else fails, make the tea. what i hate about all of these mini-holidays, is that you always get adverts on tv selling something they found in a bin, under the catchphrase 'the perfect girt for mothers day' or 'the perfect gift for valentines day'. you've all seen them. last valentines day, no joke, they were selling an album of break-up songs as 'the perfect gift for valentines day'. adverts in general annoy me (i like clever ones though). for this reason alone, i shall never work in advertisement.

the broken glasses saga

well, not so much a saga, more of a boredom rant about how much broken glasses fustrate me. for the past two weeks, i've been walking around with glasses held together only by a mixture of hope, sellotape, and the knowledge that i may have to wear them as some form of monocle. but then, not even an hour ago, the rest decided to drop off. how convinient. my without my glasses is like rain without wet. Like simon cowell with out a witty comment. Like a chav without his burbery hat. sad, miserable, and very confusing to look at. i am mole girl without my glasses. my glasses are not only the only way i can see, they partially hide my puffy little eyes! this must be fixed and soon.
other then this, i feel reletively cool. i've handed in all outstanding coursework (it won't last for long), i'm doing well in lessons, i havn't been largely annoyed by anyone lately. life is good. but it'll change. i am one of those people who see the glass as half full, but i also know that someone will come along and drink from it before i even realise. i'm a slightly pessimistic realist at heart.

return of Xt.fX, (finally...)

BOO!
haha scared ya! the impossible has happened, i am finally updating!
to tell the truth i'm terribly unreliable with blogs and whatnot so savour the posts that i give for they will be far and few between.

now that's over with, i guess i should tell you all what's been going on lately. sweeney todd is almost over, which is both sad and a bit of a releif. a releif becasue i'll have some more free time to waste, but sad because it's been really fun and i feel like i finally have a social life.
last saterday i wondered down to border and met a real life manga artist! GAH! for those of you who are unfamiliar with the term, find out because my life revolves around manga and anime. she even signed some posters for me, which are now sat on my sofa rotting away as i can't find a frame :(

now down to the serious stuff. i've been very down since wednesday, and quite understandibly i think. i won't go into the nitty-gritty details but basically this guy has been harrassing our family for a while now and he decided to come round and smash in our windows. i was right at the brunt of the attack and i was less then a meter away at the time. he was demanding that my sister come out and see him (as if), and when he found she wouldn't come out he started smashing the car and shouting for my dad to come out so he could 'cut him up'. scary stuff. luckily my dad's working away, but if he wasn't he would've been out there in a flash. needless to say, the police are involved but he's gotten away with everything so far so i can't see him going down for this either.

i really hate people like him, the classic chav with sh*t for brains.

i'm gonna finish up here and watch a movie or something.

au revoir!!!!!!!

the reason i hate chavs : A

i apologize for not writing for so long, but i feel the need to express to the world (wide web) how revolting, stupid (and whatever horrible word that i can both not think of and not say) these chavs on my bus are. now the 'head chav' is so insecure about himself that he needs to put others down to feel better about himself and to gain the so-called respect from his brainless cronies. i have known this one in particular -nicknamed A- since primary school and i have never liked him. he has constantly and without fail made my life a living hell. And unfortunatly, on this particular day, there was only one seat on the bus. guess who i had to sit next to. yeah. sucks right. it was only to be made worse when i descovered why none of his primate followers were sat with him. there was a leak riiiight above where i was sat. great. its not like there was anythink i could do about it so i endured.
somehow, A found this halarious, taking this oppertunity to torment me even further throughout the journey. eventually i got off and set off to morrisons with two friends (S and L). guess who was stalking us. A decided to follow while throwing taunts at all three of us. we havn't done a thing to him and he still feels that he needs to insult us at every oppertunity. then he catches up to us in the checkout and calls me 'georgeous'. obviously he was being sarcastic. if i was 'georgeous' then it would be one thing but he knows how self-concious i am and says it deliberatly. what a jerk!
i'll stop now because if i continue i'll just bore you all with my deep desire to slaughter him in the most painful way possible...starting with castration.
peace out

sluts, homework and foundation babble

today i am going to talk to you about a topic that is seriously bothering me... stupid, slutty, whiny little slags with all the individuality and intelligence of a puss-filled ulcer called Gus. you know the ones. the girls who sit in the back of class whinging all day about how they couldn't find the right shade foundation. the ones who have to have all of the attention on them 24/7. it really bothers me how they always go on and on and on and on and on about their trivial little problems as if the whole world should stop just for them. i'll admit that everyone does it at some point, and it may be really important to them but i honestly think that noone wants to hear about it. keep it to yourself! if it really bothers you talk to someone! just don't sit in the back of class griping about it all day! it really gets on my nerves! i know i'm being mean so i'll move on to a different topic now.
erm.... well i've got to present to my english class an argument as to why one thing i hate should be banished forever. i am however having trouble wondering what i should get rid of so please leave a comment with one thing you reeeeally hate above all else to give me ideas.

greetings ladies and gentlement to my blog! good or bad, you decide.

i intend to post some proper blogs soon so keep your eyes peeled and make yourself comfortable. to find out more about me please check out my profile and it would be great if you wrote me a comment or even...dare i say it... follow my blog? remember people, comments make the world go round!

i'll post again soon