M
Miss Grey
Guest
Original poster
There's an old tale, a sad tale, a rather.. long tale, I'll attempt to shorten it, about a perfectionist girl born into a high-valued family. All her 'family' wanted was perfection, and that's what she tried desperately to achieve. She had no choice, as when she didn't meet their expectations, her father would punish her severely. Her stepmother, her real mother had left in her childhood, did nothing but look at her scornfully and shout abuse. They were monsters, beating down the poor girl who only wanted to make them proud. After years and years, her attitude and resolve began rapidly declining, and she stopped caring about the beatings.The perfection she had been forced into wanting began driving her mad on the inside, but in trying to remain perfect, she never expressed this. One day, her parents discovered just how badly she had been doing in school, and, enraged, her father attacked her. It was more violent than anything else. Even in the process of this, she sat unresponsive, as though she had finally lost all ability to fightback. This only made him more angry; she had to be punished for the shame she brings to him and his wife. He took a rather large knife,and began lashing at the poor girl, shouting about how she was'Unacceptable as even a human being, you're better off dead.' He received this wish as he hacked open her throat, and she lay there,choking on blood until she forever lost consciousness. With her gone,they felt they could live happily now. Wretched fools.
In the pitch black this girl had been tossed into, she floated for a while. Alone. All this nothingness. Was this what the afterlife was like? Or maybe some kind of limbo?Suddenly, two figures appeared. They were young, a boy an a girl. Possibly twins, with the way they clung to each others' side. But the strangest thing was how they spoke in a tense as if they were a single being.
"What a poor girl, you are," spoke the boy. "Covered in all those lashes," spoke the girl.
"It looks painful." "I can help you out." "Perhaps you'd like to try the game a little longer,""But with some added cheats?"
"What are you talking about? Where am I?"
"You're in Limbo." They both spoke at once, then just the girl. "I'm the guardian of your limbo."
"My limbo? I thought there was only one."
"No, everyone has one. I'm the companion of this one. Now if you'd like help, I can give you some."
"But I'm dead. I just want to stay that way."
"No you don't." They snickered mockingly. "You want revenge, right?"
She looked in shock for a moment. The chance to get back at them. To get back at everyone. Malevolence, justice for her harsh life, it sounded good.
"...Could you really help me with that?"
"Yes. But in return, you must help me."
That night, as her parents lay in bed,misfortune was imminent. They awoke quite suddenly, as a blackened figure stood over them. Even though the light of the moon from the window shone on it, it seemed the figure had been dyed completely black, other than the red eyes, and white of teeth which shone as they crept into an eerie, foreboding smile.
After a noise complaint and the arrival of police, their mangled bodies had been found, along with the girl, who was looking bewildered and frightened, spouting that she had killed everyone. No one could believe it, they refused to. People of the town knew the girl as perfect; she could never do wrong. But in the same night she disappeared, and investigators found her body in the basement floorboards, soaked in blood.
The cemetery has a lovely silence to it. One could come here to just clear the mind, think and philosophize; that is, those who aren't so squeamish to hang around the graves. Of course the quietest time was at night, as that is how it is at this point in time. Oh, the beauty of the little lanterns which rested upon a few graves. People seemed to like the old, fire-lit things. The way the tiny flame danced around in the paper bag; such a ceremonial look to it, only someone interested in such things would truly become entranced by it. The light caused a nice glimmer upon the smooth, stone headstones. So many names, in any other place, knowing a name would mean knowing a person. But here, you know a name, but you seldom know the story of the one who owned the name. Sometimes they give names of their family members, maybe a picture, always their date of birth and death. But wouldn't it be something to know their stories? How they lived, how they died? Imagine the knowledge, though useless, it's an interesting thing to think about. Oh, look at these beautiful crosses lain across this row! They're pendants, it seems, each attached to a beaded necklace. Maybe the owners of these graves all knew each other, and died together. How sad. No, wait, it seems that the graves leading up to these all have the pendants too. Yet the ones after, do not. What an anomaly.
What's that lovely tune I hear? It must be emanating from something like a music box.
Even more of an anomaly was the sudden, radiating glow which appeared from somewhere nearby. Looking around, a strange sight is seen. Intricate lights in the form of golden, glowing threads, which seemed to sprout flowers, all curling and growing about some dark spot in the cemetery. Of course with all this light, the spot was not all that dark. It illuminated everything, as though the world would never notice. What's this, a girl crouched here? On one of the graves, is she? Her atramentous hair seems to be in neat, collinear pigtails, and she's dressed in a uniform-like ensemble, though the schools nearby don't require such things, and no one needs to wear such things at this time of night. Hunched over, murmuring to herself, clutching a-what's that- a pendant? Her soft voice seems to be the only sound other than the wind. "Deus misereátur." It was a Latin phrase she stated plainly, hands which were also entwined with the pendant, clasped together.
The music stops, and the light seems to get sucked into the girl once more.
Picking up a small, mechanical-looking box and shoving it into her jacket's pocket, his strange girl then rose her feet, swaying a little, seeming a bit unsteady at first before standing for a moment, examining the tombstone before her. She reached out, gently setting the pendant upon the top of the grave, to match the appearance of the other graves
In the pitch black this girl had been tossed into, she floated for a while. Alone. All this nothingness. Was this what the afterlife was like? Or maybe some kind of limbo?Suddenly, two figures appeared. They were young, a boy an a girl. Possibly twins, with the way they clung to each others' side. But the strangest thing was how they spoke in a tense as if they were a single being.
"What a poor girl, you are," spoke the boy. "Covered in all those lashes," spoke the girl.
"It looks painful." "I can help you out." "Perhaps you'd like to try the game a little longer,""But with some added cheats?"
"What are you talking about? Where am I?"
"You're in Limbo." They both spoke at once, then just the girl. "I'm the guardian of your limbo."
"My limbo? I thought there was only one."
"No, everyone has one. I'm the companion of this one. Now if you'd like help, I can give you some."
"But I'm dead. I just want to stay that way."
"No you don't." They snickered mockingly. "You want revenge, right?"
She looked in shock for a moment. The chance to get back at them. To get back at everyone. Malevolence, justice for her harsh life, it sounded good.
"...Could you really help me with that?"
"Yes. But in return, you must help me."
That night, as her parents lay in bed,misfortune was imminent. They awoke quite suddenly, as a blackened figure stood over them. Even though the light of the moon from the window shone on it, it seemed the figure had been dyed completely black, other than the red eyes, and white of teeth which shone as they crept into an eerie, foreboding smile.
After a noise complaint and the arrival of police, their mangled bodies had been found, along with the girl, who was looking bewildered and frightened, spouting that she had killed everyone. No one could believe it, they refused to. People of the town knew the girl as perfect; she could never do wrong. But in the same night she disappeared, and investigators found her body in the basement floorboards, soaked in blood.
Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ
The cemetery has a lovely silence to it. One could come here to just clear the mind, think and philosophize; that is, those who aren't so squeamish to hang around the graves. Of course the quietest time was at night, as that is how it is at this point in time. Oh, the beauty of the little lanterns which rested upon a few graves. People seemed to like the old, fire-lit things. The way the tiny flame danced around in the paper bag; such a ceremonial look to it, only someone interested in such things would truly become entranced by it. The light caused a nice glimmer upon the smooth, stone headstones. So many names, in any other place, knowing a name would mean knowing a person. But here, you know a name, but you seldom know the story of the one who owned the name. Sometimes they give names of their family members, maybe a picture, always their date of birth and death. But wouldn't it be something to know their stories? How they lived, how they died? Imagine the knowledge, though useless, it's an interesting thing to think about. Oh, look at these beautiful crosses lain across this row! They're pendants, it seems, each attached to a beaded necklace. Maybe the owners of these graves all knew each other, and died together. How sad. No, wait, it seems that the graves leading up to these all have the pendants too. Yet the ones after, do not. What an anomaly.
What's that lovely tune I hear? It must be emanating from something like a music box.
Even more of an anomaly was the sudden, radiating glow which appeared from somewhere nearby. Looking around, a strange sight is seen. Intricate lights in the form of golden, glowing threads, which seemed to sprout flowers, all curling and growing about some dark spot in the cemetery. Of course with all this light, the spot was not all that dark. It illuminated everything, as though the world would never notice. What's this, a girl crouched here? On one of the graves, is she? Her atramentous hair seems to be in neat, collinear pigtails, and she's dressed in a uniform-like ensemble, though the schools nearby don't require such things, and no one needs to wear such things at this time of night. Hunched over, murmuring to herself, clutching a-what's that- a pendant? Her soft voice seems to be the only sound other than the wind. "Deus misereátur." It was a Latin phrase she stated plainly, hands which were also entwined with the pendant, clasped together.
The music stops, and the light seems to get sucked into the girl once more.
Picking up a small, mechanical-looking box and shoving it into her jacket's pocket, his strange girl then rose her feet, swaying a little, seeming a bit unsteady at first before standing for a moment, examining the tombstone before her. She reached out, gently setting the pendant upon the top of the grave, to match the appearance of the other graves