Post by Kaelir on Jul 3, 2006 13:43:16 GMT -5
(An Excerpt from the chronicles of Red - another character I am working on at the moment. The entire journal can be found at
strangeredgirl.blogspot.com/ - be warned, I am trying out something a little darker so if you have problems with that don't read any more.
I was twelve when I killed my daddy. Just a little.Twist.
I made him red. Made him hurt. I killed Mommy too. She had watched as he shattered my face and didn't even try to help. When I rammed the knife into them, my fear died.I thought I was a bad girl. Daddy was always angry with me. He always hurt me and made my pale blue skin crimson with bruises. It was worse when I bled.
I tried to hide, but he always found my secret places.
I can see Daddy's hard blue eyes as he stared through the crack in the cupboard, catching my scared face in that small stream of light. He dragged me out when I began to scream and threw me against the wall. The house shook. Mother sat on the bed, still. Her eyes were white and quivering beneath her veil of dark hair. She held a hair comb in her ebony hands. Those hands were quivering too. "Red," he sneered, and then he smashed me face with his fist. My bones cracked under the iron glove. I saw the buckles on his plated armor shine dully in the candlelight. My jaw was shattered. I tried to speak but the pain brought red to my eyes.
“You stupid baby,” he said as blood dripped from my broken nose, and I tried to wipe it away, so I could breathe as it went down my throat. He pinned my arms against the wall and nearly crushed my hands. He took some kind of pleasure in watching me struggle. “You deserve to be red. It suits you.” Only when I stopped struggling did he let me go. He threw me onto the floor, near the bed. My mother did not move. Her hands were still half-curled around the comb. Daddy walked to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine and began to drink. I stared at the sword on his belt as he leaned against the chair. I remember the details. He was a Sentry of the Dark Elven Village, and he was my terrible god.
All I could think of was that they had to be punished. Daddy had to be punished. Mommy’s stillness had to be punished.
I got to my feet and walked to the kitchen.
“Did I tell you to get up?” He said. He sneered. I saw the top of his gums and he took another long swallow from the wine bottle.
There was a knife on the counter. Mommy had used it to cut vegetables. I picked it up.
“Put it down.” Daddy tried to set the bottle down, but it fell off the table and broke. I stepped over the glass and the wine. Blood followed me, a little trail of red. Daddy raised his fist again to hit me.
I didn’t even whimper, or make a noise as I shoved the knife into his belly. His eyes were white and cracked with red veins. I saw my own twisted and shattered face in the reflection of his pupils. I twisted. He slumped over and collapsed onto the floor. I pulled the knife out of the clenched muscles.
I walked slowly to Mommy, wincing with every step. She didn’t even make a noise when Daddy had died. The trail of red followed me.
The comb dropped from her hand. I gasped a little as I walked to the bed. She looked at me. It was the only time I could remember Mommy looking at me.
“Are you going to kill me?” She asked, her voice a whisper. She laid back against the bed, continuing to stare at me. Her skin was pale and beautiful. Her hair spilled across the pillows.
“Yes, Mommy,” I said. I didn’t blink as I held the knife with both hands and rammed it into her neck, pinning her to the bed. She shuddered a bit, and then was still. Blood began to move across the sheets.
I walked outside into the dark, and it was somewhere in a pool of shadow that I collapsed, far from the village.
strangeredgirl.blogspot.com/ - be warned, I am trying out something a little darker so if you have problems with that don't read any more.
I was twelve when I killed my daddy. Just a little.Twist.
I made him red. Made him hurt. I killed Mommy too. She had watched as he shattered my face and didn't even try to help. When I rammed the knife into them, my fear died.I thought I was a bad girl. Daddy was always angry with me. He always hurt me and made my pale blue skin crimson with bruises. It was worse when I bled.
I tried to hide, but he always found my secret places.
I can see Daddy's hard blue eyes as he stared through the crack in the cupboard, catching my scared face in that small stream of light. He dragged me out when I began to scream and threw me against the wall. The house shook. Mother sat on the bed, still. Her eyes were white and quivering beneath her veil of dark hair. She held a hair comb in her ebony hands. Those hands were quivering too. "Red," he sneered, and then he smashed me face with his fist. My bones cracked under the iron glove. I saw the buckles on his plated armor shine dully in the candlelight. My jaw was shattered. I tried to speak but the pain brought red to my eyes.
“You stupid baby,” he said as blood dripped from my broken nose, and I tried to wipe it away, so I could breathe as it went down my throat. He pinned my arms against the wall and nearly crushed my hands. He took some kind of pleasure in watching me struggle. “You deserve to be red. It suits you.” Only when I stopped struggling did he let me go. He threw me onto the floor, near the bed. My mother did not move. Her hands were still half-curled around the comb. Daddy walked to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine and began to drink. I stared at the sword on his belt as he leaned against the chair. I remember the details. He was a Sentry of the Dark Elven Village, and he was my terrible god.
All I could think of was that they had to be punished. Daddy had to be punished. Mommy’s stillness had to be punished.
I got to my feet and walked to the kitchen.
“Did I tell you to get up?” He said. He sneered. I saw the top of his gums and he took another long swallow from the wine bottle.
There was a knife on the counter. Mommy had used it to cut vegetables. I picked it up.
“Put it down.” Daddy tried to set the bottle down, but it fell off the table and broke. I stepped over the glass and the wine. Blood followed me, a little trail of red. Daddy raised his fist again to hit me.
I didn’t even whimper, or make a noise as I shoved the knife into his belly. His eyes were white and cracked with red veins. I saw my own twisted and shattered face in the reflection of his pupils. I twisted. He slumped over and collapsed onto the floor. I pulled the knife out of the clenched muscles.
I walked slowly to Mommy, wincing with every step. She didn’t even make a noise when Daddy had died. The trail of red followed me.
The comb dropped from her hand. I gasped a little as I walked to the bed. She looked at me. It was the only time I could remember Mommy looking at me.
“Are you going to kill me?” She asked, her voice a whisper. She laid back against the bed, continuing to stare at me. Her skin was pale and beautiful. Her hair spilled across the pillows.
“Yes, Mommy,” I said. I didn’t blink as I held the knife with both hands and rammed it into her neck, pinning her to the bed. She shuddered a bit, and then was still. Blood began to move across the sheets.
I walked outside into the dark, and it was somewhere in a pool of shadow that I collapsed, far from the village.
