Post by phaedra on Jan 28, 2006 1:17:04 GMT -5
Her alabaster fingers traced silently over the cool, hard surface. Slowly, her pink tongue slid over her bottom lip. She watched herself, in the glass surface of the mirror. Slowly her finger tip reached the antiqued metal base. Her lips curved up, carving dimples in her rosy cheeks. The old floorboards creaked beneath her knees, matching the rhythm of the corset tight around her body. Her tulle skirts rustled gently as she pushed them aside. The curtain over the tiny window, however, didn't move for there was no sweet breeze to caress it. Every inch of the room had some sort of mismatched mirror. Some were square, some round. Some elaborate, some plain. There was a faux candle chandelier on the ceiling. The room was made entirely of dark wood, as though it was a tower in an old house. Beside her there was a hand mirror of antiqued silver.
Her lips parted, and she laughed. Her eyes, however, did not leave the mirror. They glittered, brighter than the rarest gems. Nothing, not even the most divine stars, could match her light. She looked down, her eyes still trained carefully on the mirror before her. Slowly, deliberately, her hand ran over the wood. It was harsh, not smooth. Her doll-like hand grasped the handle of the hand mirror. She drew it toward her while lifting her skirts slightly with her other hand.
You've got better balance than a cat, she thought to herself. She ran the hand that had been holding the mirror over her garter clad thigh. Her other hand was tracing over her angelic face in the mirror. Her hand dipped down, slowly moving beneath the silken fabric of her underwear. Her lips parted again, slowly and silently, as her head tilted back. Her eyes, however, remained trained on the mirror.
She watched her own movements, clinging to ever sigh from her parted lips. She, and she alone, knew what to do. She could please herself better than anyone she had encountered.
Her breath became strained and delayed, her corset creaking more than ever and her straps slipping down. She was consumed, leaning forward and mewling and begging for herself like a kitten.
The mirror held her up as she let out a final cry, shattering her breaths like a rooster shatters the morning. With her forehead pressed against the supporting mirror, she could watch her hand worrying her most intimate areas. She whimpered, lifting her eyes to gaze into themselves. Again, heavier than a high-tide wave pounding against a cliff side, the feelings washed over her. Her hand freed itself as she fell completely against the mirror, but the mirror did not break her fall.
She was falling off her cliff, into her ocean. She raised her head, though it felt like lead to move. She tried to move, but she felt as though she was in a pool of molasses. She was drowning in the thick, dark liquid. Cold, dead hands like bones gripped her ankles as she kicked her feet to move toward the surface she knew had to be there. She tried to scream but her mouth was filled with a coppery taste. She found a ledge with her hands and heaved herself up, feeling the hands tearing her flesh. She fell onto the snow covered ground, panting. Her limbs were trembling. She coughed, feeling she had naught the energy to do more. Suddenly she felt a sharp pain in her throat. She coughed, feeling as though she could not breathe.
She pulled herself onto all fours and began to gag, using every ounce of strength she could muster. She tried to scream, reaching into her mouth feeling metal. She pulled the device out, gagging on the chain. Her throat was raw and she swore the world was tilting as she gazed at the metal crucifix in her fingers, coated thick with her blood. She coughed again, her throat raw, as she placed the necklace over her head and resting between her breasts. She glanced behind her and her scream died before it was born. The pit she had dragged herself from was full of floating, moving corpses and thick, bubbling blood. She tried to stand up, but fell. She began to crawl, on hands and knees, away. She slipped every few paces, falling face down into the choppy, dirty snow. She coughed up blood and cried. No one was there to help her, she would die here in the snow. She came to a slope, a hill, and could not keep her balance. She didn't see the shadows moving with her.
She failed to notice her clothes had been replaced, no longer would she don white. Her corset and skirt were black, restrictive, and denying. She looked up as she fell against the snow and rocks, and her eyes widened. A grave without a name, bearing a single phrase.
'Beautiful even in death'
There was a coffin, faced away, with no flowers. No one attended the funeral but herself, standing at the headstone with a dead rose. Slowly her view moved and she saw herself within the coffin, attending her own funeral. She tore her eyes away from herself as her hands came up and tore the crucifix off her neck. She felt ropes around her arms that were being pulled up, jerked unevenly. Above her five ravens tied to each of her arms began to pull her into a standing position. She was jerked around, tugged forward. She stumbled, cursing, her eyes on the sky that was closing around her.
She knew not how long she walked, her feet were black and bleeding. The ravens were detached from her, flying away as she fell again. Hot claws wrenched around her arms and pulled her down. The stench of death and sex filled her nose as she gagged, her throat chafing. She was being pulled down by unseen creatures. Her throat bubbled as she doubled over, being pulled. Her garments were torn, the metal boning exposed on her corset. She was in a desert unlike any desert she had seen.
Red, purple, and black. Scorching, she had to be near the center of the earth. The ground was cracked and there was nothing living for as far as her eyes could see. She was thrown by shadows she could not see against a wheel, bound before she could blink.
She opened her mouth to protest but naught but bloodied gurgling met her ears. She knew not what happened next, she could not see nor hear passed her own endless cries. Pain, pain beyond imaginable. She knew not if she had an image of a body left. Her wheel and herself were falling now, broken and black.
The shadows woke her, loading her with rocks on her back until she could not stand. They made her walk with their shadowed whips. She knew not how long. There was no indication of day or night, nor of an end or a beginning. She had not cast her eye around for she could look at nothing but the ground. She felt a drop of water hit the back of her sweat slicked neck and she tilted her head as far up as it would go. She could see light, beyond light she had ever seen. Her lips parted and her voice broke, hoarse.
"Cassia."
She blinked, the soft light from her faux candles in her eye from her mirrored reflection. She stood, adjusting her skirts without hearing the clatter of a bloodied crucifix falling onto the wooden planks. She gave her mirrors one last glance before locking the door securely behind her. There is a room of mirrors in which her heart resides, and their reflections cast the honest love within.
Yes, it had a lot of references to the video of 'Nemo' by Nightwish.
Her lips parted, and she laughed. Her eyes, however, did not leave the mirror. They glittered, brighter than the rarest gems. Nothing, not even the most divine stars, could match her light. She looked down, her eyes still trained carefully on the mirror before her. Slowly, deliberately, her hand ran over the wood. It was harsh, not smooth. Her doll-like hand grasped the handle of the hand mirror. She drew it toward her while lifting her skirts slightly with her other hand.
You've got better balance than a cat, she thought to herself. She ran the hand that had been holding the mirror over her garter clad thigh. Her other hand was tracing over her angelic face in the mirror. Her hand dipped down, slowly moving beneath the silken fabric of her underwear. Her lips parted again, slowly and silently, as her head tilted back. Her eyes, however, remained trained on the mirror.
She watched her own movements, clinging to ever sigh from her parted lips. She, and she alone, knew what to do. She could please herself better than anyone she had encountered.
Her breath became strained and delayed, her corset creaking more than ever and her straps slipping down. She was consumed, leaning forward and mewling and begging for herself like a kitten.
The mirror held her up as she let out a final cry, shattering her breaths like a rooster shatters the morning. With her forehead pressed against the supporting mirror, she could watch her hand worrying her most intimate areas. She whimpered, lifting her eyes to gaze into themselves. Again, heavier than a high-tide wave pounding against a cliff side, the feelings washed over her. Her hand freed itself as she fell completely against the mirror, but the mirror did not break her fall.
She was falling off her cliff, into her ocean. She raised her head, though it felt like lead to move. She tried to move, but she felt as though she was in a pool of molasses. She was drowning in the thick, dark liquid. Cold, dead hands like bones gripped her ankles as she kicked her feet to move toward the surface she knew had to be there. She tried to scream but her mouth was filled with a coppery taste. She found a ledge with her hands and heaved herself up, feeling the hands tearing her flesh. She fell onto the snow covered ground, panting. Her limbs were trembling. She coughed, feeling she had naught the energy to do more. Suddenly she felt a sharp pain in her throat. She coughed, feeling as though she could not breathe.
She pulled herself onto all fours and began to gag, using every ounce of strength she could muster. She tried to scream, reaching into her mouth feeling metal. She pulled the device out, gagging on the chain. Her throat was raw and she swore the world was tilting as she gazed at the metal crucifix in her fingers, coated thick with her blood. She coughed again, her throat raw, as she placed the necklace over her head and resting between her breasts. She glanced behind her and her scream died before it was born. The pit she had dragged herself from was full of floating, moving corpses and thick, bubbling blood. She tried to stand up, but fell. She began to crawl, on hands and knees, away. She slipped every few paces, falling face down into the choppy, dirty snow. She coughed up blood and cried. No one was there to help her, she would die here in the snow. She came to a slope, a hill, and could not keep her balance. She didn't see the shadows moving with her.
She failed to notice her clothes had been replaced, no longer would she don white. Her corset and skirt were black, restrictive, and denying. She looked up as she fell against the snow and rocks, and her eyes widened. A grave without a name, bearing a single phrase.
'Beautiful even in death'
There was a coffin, faced away, with no flowers. No one attended the funeral but herself, standing at the headstone with a dead rose. Slowly her view moved and she saw herself within the coffin, attending her own funeral. She tore her eyes away from herself as her hands came up and tore the crucifix off her neck. She felt ropes around her arms that were being pulled up, jerked unevenly. Above her five ravens tied to each of her arms began to pull her into a standing position. She was jerked around, tugged forward. She stumbled, cursing, her eyes on the sky that was closing around her.
She knew not how long she walked, her feet were black and bleeding. The ravens were detached from her, flying away as she fell again. Hot claws wrenched around her arms and pulled her down. The stench of death and sex filled her nose as she gagged, her throat chafing. She was being pulled down by unseen creatures. Her throat bubbled as she doubled over, being pulled. Her garments were torn, the metal boning exposed on her corset. She was in a desert unlike any desert she had seen.
Red, purple, and black. Scorching, she had to be near the center of the earth. The ground was cracked and there was nothing living for as far as her eyes could see. She was thrown by shadows she could not see against a wheel, bound before she could blink.
She opened her mouth to protest but naught but bloodied gurgling met her ears. She knew not what happened next, she could not see nor hear passed her own endless cries. Pain, pain beyond imaginable. She knew not if she had an image of a body left. Her wheel and herself were falling now, broken and black.
The shadows woke her, loading her with rocks on her back until she could not stand. They made her walk with their shadowed whips. She knew not how long. There was no indication of day or night, nor of an end or a beginning. She had not cast her eye around for she could look at nothing but the ground. She felt a drop of water hit the back of her sweat slicked neck and she tilted her head as far up as it would go. She could see light, beyond light she had ever seen. Her lips parted and her voice broke, hoarse.
"Cassia."
She blinked, the soft light from her faux candles in her eye from her mirrored reflection. She stood, adjusting her skirts without hearing the clatter of a bloodied crucifix falling onto the wooden planks. She gave her mirrors one last glance before locking the door securely behind her. There is a room of mirrors in which her heart resides, and their reflections cast the honest love within.
Yes, it had a lot of references to the video of 'Nemo' by Nightwish.
