In the tinniest fraction of an airless gasp, her soul was shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.
Her panicked mind doesn't quite register the words when her, now bloodshot, eyes identify every curve and twist of tortured, black letters.
The floor beneath her feet slips away leaving her suspended like a lifeless puppet that's held together by dainty stitches and cotton wool ideas. Her body dances, moved by an unknown puppeteer, guiding her through an onslaught of people, noises and bodies.
Shoulders collide with hers in a fantastic display of grunts and exclaimed words, scowls find her direction as she rushes forward hoping to leave her heart somewhere far behind. She bursts through the doors of the dinning hall and runs.
Her body feels weightless as her feet carry her in heavy footsteps towards her little one man room. Her heart is pounding in her ears and her breathing is becoming erratic. Flames lick and bite at her lungs and muscles but she barely feels anything as her mind slowly shuts down.
Before she can hide away in her comfortable sleeping bag, she trips on a lose stone lying hidden against the tar. With a skid and a bounce her body suddenly stops moving leaving her stuck belly down on hot, black tar.
A group of kids making their way towards the freshly prepared chicken and veggie dinner stop and laugh at the spectacle only a heartbroken girl can offer.
A thousand tiny shattered pieces of her are lying scattered across the road. Twinkling in the overwhelming sunlight. Her blue eyes overflow with emotion as the merciless jesters point in her direction and with a hasty collection, she's up and running again - this time making it all the way into the dark confides of her oddly empty cupboard. Tears from her eyes resemble the blood on her knees, fresh and flowing.
Her heart is bruised and her body is battered but her sobs don't cry for rescue. They speak of hopelessness. Hate. Hurt. Heartbreak.
Inconsolable, she sits and cries her heart out. She sobs until it feels as though her eyes might combust and her throat crack. Her lungs heave and her chest falls.
Just like a mirror, she is shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.
Sunday 20 April 2014
Friday 11 April 2014
Goodnight
A sudden surge of electricity jolts her petite body upright. Cold tears stain her face and glisten like diamonds against her pale white skin, a tiny snowflake lost againt the harsh grey mountains.
Her ribs feels as though they might be bruised as her frightened heart pounds relentlessly against her feather-light rib cage. It takes her eyes a while to adjust to an overwhelming darkness at first that seems to be waging war against the light. At last her eyes adapt, just like a teenager trying to fit in with the "cool" crowd. She identifies her surroundings as her bedroom. Cold grey walls greet her with lifelessness and a hard tiled floor littered with socks, shoes and silk reminds her of the late night.
Memories of alcohol, boys, alcohol, music, alcohol and more alcohol fall into place in her spinning mind. Her feet begin to throb as her eyes pass over the 10 inch stilettos that were a good idea before 9pm.
Her small body slides back inside the warm, comforting duvet wrapped around her and a peaceful breeze whispers through her room enticing her back to a world where her subconsciousness will be king.
Less than a fraction of a sigh escapes her mouth when her mind begins to call her name. She sees the reason for her ungodly wake up call unfold in her mind and it ain't pretty.
The nightmares had started about a week ago and every night they plague her. Taunting her, tormenting her and torturing her with their nasty voices that call in the night. Some nights she wakes up shaking, completely devoid of sanity and control. Other nights her soaking pillows serve as a reminder of the wet tears of fear these nightly performances provide, but one thing is for certain. She will be woken.
Images of bodies. Halves of bodies crawling towards her appear behind her eyes, like the quick flashes of Hollywood paparazzi. Blindingly and then blind in an instant. Eyes devoid of souls, hands outstretched towards her replay, and replay and replay. Blood stains her floor and nails scratch at the tiles, like animals in captivity, as the monsters approach her bed, eyes constantly fixed on her. The prize. The meal. The main attraction.
Shivers race through her body as she sinks lower into her bedding trying to hide from her mind but the one person you can't escape is yourself. Cold sweats dampen the air and a fleeing heart rate doesn't make her feel any more comfortable.
"It's just a nightmare. That's all. A nightmare." She tries to convince herself in a strong authoritative voice, a voice that's trembling in fear.
Overcome by night the room snarls at her from dark corners and growls at her from over sized bookcases and wardrobes. The colour scheme of night, grey black and charcoal, attempts to convince her of evil. They try to persuade her to come out and play.
Tonight, even the moon has a sinister smile painted red across his face.
Tears streak her cheeks with silver and her heart shows no mercy for her delicate torso. The blood rushing through her ears sounds powerful and pronounced and installs a grave boldness inside her until a scratch at her door sends her tiny frame straight up. The fear like a bolt of energy running along her skin.
"It was all just a dream..." Her tiny voice seemingly echoes through her moonlight room.
"Or was it?"
Her ribs feels as though they might be bruised as her frightened heart pounds relentlessly against her feather-light rib cage. It takes her eyes a while to adjust to an overwhelming darkness at first that seems to be waging war against the light. At last her eyes adapt, just like a teenager trying to fit in with the "cool" crowd. She identifies her surroundings as her bedroom. Cold grey walls greet her with lifelessness and a hard tiled floor littered with socks, shoes and silk reminds her of the late night.
Memories of alcohol, boys, alcohol, music, alcohol and more alcohol fall into place in her spinning mind. Her feet begin to throb as her eyes pass over the 10 inch stilettos that were a good idea before 9pm.
Her small body slides back inside the warm, comforting duvet wrapped around her and a peaceful breeze whispers through her room enticing her back to a world where her subconsciousness will be king.
Less than a fraction of a sigh escapes her mouth when her mind begins to call her name. She sees the reason for her ungodly wake up call unfold in her mind and it ain't pretty.
The nightmares had started about a week ago and every night they plague her. Taunting her, tormenting her and torturing her with their nasty voices that call in the night. Some nights she wakes up shaking, completely devoid of sanity and control. Other nights her soaking pillows serve as a reminder of the wet tears of fear these nightly performances provide, but one thing is for certain. She will be woken.
Images of bodies. Halves of bodies crawling towards her appear behind her eyes, like the quick flashes of Hollywood paparazzi. Blindingly and then blind in an instant. Eyes devoid of souls, hands outstretched towards her replay, and replay and replay. Blood stains her floor and nails scratch at the tiles, like animals in captivity, as the monsters approach her bed, eyes constantly fixed on her. The prize. The meal. The main attraction.
Shivers race through her body as she sinks lower into her bedding trying to hide from her mind but the one person you can't escape is yourself. Cold sweats dampen the air and a fleeing heart rate doesn't make her feel any more comfortable.
"It's just a nightmare. That's all. A nightmare." She tries to convince herself in a strong authoritative voice, a voice that's trembling in fear.
Overcome by night the room snarls at her from dark corners and growls at her from over sized bookcases and wardrobes. The colour scheme of night, grey black and charcoal, attempts to convince her of evil. They try to persuade her to come out and play.
Tonight, even the moon has a sinister smile painted red across his face.
Tears streak her cheeks with silver and her heart shows no mercy for her delicate torso. The blood rushing through her ears sounds powerful and pronounced and installs a grave boldness inside her until a scratch at her door sends her tiny frame straight up. The fear like a bolt of energy running along her skin.
"It was all just a dream..." Her tiny voice seemingly echoes through her moonlight room.
"Or was it?"
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