There was blood there. On her hands and arms. The dress was white once. White as her bridegroom's teeth.
For the family and for honor. For her grandmother and grandfather. Never for her. Nothing for her.
The wedding was special. The whole family came to see Chi Ling marry into what was the richest family in Beijing. Such an accomplishment. They complimented her mother and her father for making the match. Mounds of food decorating the reception hall. Her family got drunk on wine while his hid behind their paper fans, whispering that he'd only married her because her family...
The room faded away around her, the bed, the dressers, the walls and windows, disappeared, faded out, until the only thing he saw was her standing there. A sheet twisted demurely around her body. Hair falling haphazardly. Chin tucked in slightly, eyes looking up and beckoning with each slow flap of her eyelashes.
Nothing else existed, just her and him and the unbearable distance between them.
The sheet shifted, her leg emerged, bent at the knee. She spun slowly to face him. Walking forward, unbuttoning his shirt, kicking his shoes off and into the white void surrounding them.
The emptiness...
There was blood on my pillow. Prom tomorrow and I was still bleeding from the tooth extraction. Four wisdom teeth removed. And I was off to prom.
My date was an ex-boyfriend. We were desperate for the quintessential high school experience. Desperate enough to hook back up again.
My dress was a hand-me-down. Less Pretty in Pink and more High School Reunion. I didn't know how to sew, so all I could do was attempt to cut off the ruffles. Blue taffeta--not my best color.
The handbag was from my grandmother. White sequin and plastic pearls. I tucked the syringe...
One day, we were children. The next day, we were kids, running down to the dock by ourselves. You carried a bowl of strawberries and your raincoat flapped in the wind. Your mother always made you wear a raincoat.
Daisy followed us down to the dock. She was old by then, and you'd never liked her much--not since her flopping, whining puppy years. The dog had a tendency to bark at passing ships, to squeal miserably when you dove into the water and swam further from her sight.
That day, Daisy stood as close to the dock's edge as her...
The ice road stretched in an endless arc ahead of them, spiralling and curving amongst the tall pine trees like a child's marble run which had been exquisitely crafted out of snow. The sun was barely able to climb higher than the trees at this time of day, and she felt a shiver as the heater in the old car battled the sub-zero temperatures in mid-January here in the North. Her hands gripped the steering wheel more tightly as she concentrated on getting to the hospital safely, hoping against hope that she would be in time to bid her old...
The bass pounded next door. pounded this door. pounded so loudly that louis put his head on his desk and pounded with it. he got up from his studying to give his next door neighbor a pound for a pound. and that's when his bed started shaking. Earthquake, he thought. and dived under his desk for safety. wait a minute, he thought, am i supposed to hide underneath the desk or a doorway. and then he noticed his desk wasn't shaking. just his bed. that is against the wall that he shares with his neighbor. then he heard the moaning...
She hated when people asked where she came from. She didn't like dwelling on the past, or for that matter, thinking of it at all.
The past made her feel weak, vulnerable. She loathed feeling that way.
She wasn't weak, like her mother. Her mother stayed with him to rot.
But not Laura, she got out as soon as she could. As far away as she could from him, the man that had the nerve to call himself her father.
He was evil, he was a monster that haunted her dreams, she hated him. Him and his "holier then though"...
'Just a little more." She said wearily, but the fierce look of determination on her face kept Malcom from insisting further. Her hands gripped the support rail so tightly that her knuckles drained of all colour.
'Alright, alright, if you really think you can do it.' He said softly, taking a step away from the wheelchair at the ready to wheel her away back to her room. He had to admit it, he admired her persistence, even if it was against his better judgment.
Her first step on her healing leg was shaky and the beads of sweat on her...
It was the standard method of execution in the Forest of Giants.
Machelo was chained to a large yellow box on the top of a hill. Balanced atop his head was a metal bell; should he dislodge it, it would ring.
He'd been stabbed in the chest with two metal spikes; that in itself would be a mortal wound for any normal doll, but Machelo was much more than normal. His natural resilience would be enough to recover from his wounds, but not even he could withstand what would happen if the bell were to ring; if he were to...
Green. That was the colour that he always thought when he thought of her.
It wasn't hard to see why.
The shirt that she had worn the day that they had met had been green. That was the night that he had led her onto the dancefloor to cheer her up. Her green top had been the only thing that he had been able to see behind the fog.
Her nails had been painted a deep dark green the first time that he had reached out and held her hand. He would never forget her smile when she turned her...