| Carmilla Retold
She was the colour of powder sugar cocaine and disappeared twice as fast. She would laugh at the sky- howl, her long, soft throat exposed...a dare to all, free shot at the jugular, any takers?
She would pick her names from books and word salad phrases, tie red rose, bruised black in her long hair and those were all she ever left. A trickling, broken kite tail of word and string. Some said her lips left traces of wax, clear, thick peeling...sometimes ever burning bruises that ached trying to push up blood through un-punctured flesh.
This time she came as Carmilla. For this part she cloaked her body in flushed crimson velvets, black silks. Carmilla painted her lips ruby, her eyes shone dark through shadow smears, she twisted her ebony locks into the tightest corkscrews and wore them in pigtails- always the perfect doll. She knew her target when under this name, the girl with molten gold for hair, sapphires for eyes.
Carmilla found Estelle by the river. The air stunk of the breeding betwixt sea and earth, it whispered stale tears...the night told her all, payment for timeless companionship, eons of stories retold. She was a cat in movement, sleek, seductive, all grace and always dancing. When she spoke she purred, she sang out sighs of the darkest poisoned chocolate.
"Estelle."
The girl turned, a blood-let ballerina arcing life force from her wrists. She was comprised of perfect shapes, of gems and precious metals- she was comprised of sorrows, loss and murdered dreams. Carmilla knew this faerie tale well, all the pieces she had laid painfully perfect, but this time it would be HER ending...this time? It was always HER ending.
"Estelle."
The girl was pleading, her head hung low with the weight of one who cannot meet the eyes of Death masked in a porcelain face, one who cannot met the sharp-toothed smile encased in lips roughed with her own blood. Estelle also knew the fable and it's modifications, her life would wilt on the points of those canines and in exchange the Ice Queen's beauty would blossom until the need for the next story. She would melt away the truth and cold of centuries for at least one more night. The lovely, nightshade dark swallowing the purity of light.
Once she might have been an angel, carried on wings of pearl, but what did that matter now? The Devil had come wrapped in velvets and perfect curves and her leather wings beat thrice as fast. She stood, allowed herself to be caged in slender arms, she wept and waited for her "Happily Ever After" kiss.
It went fast, Estelle having already attempted to play martyr and Carmilla let her drop to the ground in frustrated disgust. What a waste, the Autumn leaves all painted in red...this was not nearly enough.
"Weak girl," she hissed. "Cur."
There was little time to spare, this one didn't even deserve a shallow grave. She shed her name, picked up the basket of evil wrapped in apple flesh and went to collect on Snow White. |  Published by | | | Scarrow Rusted Lace Join Date: Jan 2007 Location: we're all mad here
Posts: 14
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