Monday, 8 October 2012
10:57:04 PM (GMT)
I felt like the blue rhinestones embedded in her irises spoke volumes of her health.
Nothing more than a fruit fly could have flown past without being incinerated in
that icy, tear-colored landscape.
"Nevermore," quoth the raven.
I was tempted to attempt to extinguish her hope, which she was wearing smeared across
her forehead in a sickly banner of happiness.
This wouldn't do.
Grasping the snath, I set about beheading her, which was a lengthy process involving
several leagues of sea water flowing out from under my bedroom door.
Eventually, her head did fall to the floor, echoing in my bones with a perky
I couldn't believe my luck.
The next night, a blustery Hallowe'en, was doomed to the same fate as all the other
nights, none of them remembered by those forgetful history books, none of the
surviving the centuries that tore at their yellowed memories.
I couldn't quite hold on.
After realizing I was half dead by this point, I glanced at the cat-shaped clock that
was perched on the iron mantle. It's eyes spun, and it's paws told me the time:
I was surprised, thinking I was still in Before, but alas, here was After, and I was
This was simply unacceptable.
Suddenly, the last lie I told came running up to me, out of breath, like lies always
are; she coughed, her rancid tears dripping from her talons, and she said, hurriedly,
"Please, come, come."
I followed her, not sure if I'd make it home for dinner, knowing that mother would be
angry and fretful if I was not punctual.
Down the hallway she led me, passing all the bone sculptures made from the deceased
kittens, and past all the doors that no one opened because there was no where better
than this hell; we marched in time to the music, which fell heavily on us, washing
away our minds and leaving us smiling.
Soon enough, we came to the fountain, where a mermaid with a bloodthirsty smile
handed me a slim volume entitled, How to Start a Revolution.
I rolled my eyes and tossed the book aside, because I had already read this one, as
well as the sequel, How to Clean Up Your Mess Without Regret.
The mermaid growled and hissed, acid dribbling from the side of her mouth, and the
lie (that was now urging me to hurry on) raked her talons across the amphibian's
face, leaving her shocked and scarred.
We ran, out of the chamber and into the forest. A huge boulder loomed before us, and
sitting atop the huge chunk of stone was a girl, sipping blood from a broken
hourglass. "You're just in time," she said.
Last edited: 8 October 2012