This isn't a Fairy Tale (452 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 0.16 on 8 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Lambchop's Death Legion (View user info) at 2008-07-16 02:23:21 EDT
The soft summer winds blew silently in the still afternoon, the carefree breeze forced several of the light pink petals of the cherry blossom off its tree. The floating flowers drifted over the neatly trimmed but abandoned yard; toys left half played with had been haphazardly scattered around. Passing by the white painted posts and rails of the wrap-around porch, the petal soared on a warm breeze. Of all the petals that soared on the air; a singular, fleshy tear drop drifted through the dark wooden front door, which had been left wide open. The petal twirled softly through the air its pink hues contrasting cheerily with the rich cream colors of the much newer wallpaper.
The Japanese feather merrily swayed lower and lower, drifting into the large, vastly empty atrium. Only a small dark stained table and wood framed mirror, which had both been dyed the same shade as the wooden floors which stretched over every inch of the house. As the tiny invader grew close to the table, a large corpulent charcoal calico leapt up onto the lone table and watched the petal fall down near it. Just as the fleshy soft wing was within the feline's reach, the calico scratched out at the pink shape; the result was that the cat fell to the ground and the petal was pushed towards the ceiling in the short gust of wind.
The calico's face turned up to the playful petal and watched with mismatched eyes , one so dark it could have been called black and the other which was a brilliant neon yellow, as it bounced on the wind. The light pink leaf floated and fluttered to the wall, caught on the intake from the central air. An air vent that had been placed high on the wall lured the lone traveler through its white screen with ease. As the petal passed into the shaft of the vent, the rush of cooling wind shoved the soft pinkness upward.
It rode the almost icy cold wind higher, passing by cobwebs and spiders which clung to the sides. A shift in the air caused the naïve petal to rush through a thick old spider's web, leaving it in shambles and as the petal quickly passed the owner, the spider chattered at the supple pink plume angrily with its legs. The metal of the shaft made as sharp turn which caused the petal to strike the top before being drawn by the air towards the exit. The innocent leaf was pushed up against the white grating of the vent, among the thick dust and played the sole witness to the dark event unfolding in the room just below.
The room to which the petal was peering into was plain, but not in a drab sense of monochromatic tones, just in the way that is was a very typically boyish room. The bedroom, for that was given way by the small twin bed that was nestled just underneath the vent and was equally square on all sides with everything nearly perfect. Even the toys that were out on the floor, seemed sterilized and almost placed defensively in a half circle. The room looked as if Norman Rockwell had come to life within it; there was a youthfulness and life that was in the small details. Things like the messy comforter on the bed, the football poster which was thumb-tacked askew, gave the room a soul.
The colors of the room were perfectly simple, like frozen ice; blue in every single shade and tone. Both the pillow and the sheets of the bed were one light, almost a sky blue hue where as the quilt was a deep cobalt. The curtains were one tone while the walls were yet again a completely different electrically blue one, which duplicated none of those before. The only part of the small room that was lacking in the blue coloration was the floor which was littered with the aforementioned toys, hiding the stark white carpet in a camouflage of boyish tones.
A family stood within the room; a man, woman and child, the boy of at least the age of five, gripped his mother tight and buried his face into the fabric of her fading jeans. As he did this, his face was obscured from view, making his only distinguishing feature, the unruly midnight-black hair on his head. The boy obviously took after his mother, seeing as the man standing across the room was nearly platinum blond where as she has the same black raven hair as the boy.
The woman's acidic green eyes looked at her former husband, both in anger and fear, which was barely being reflected in her strong but trembling voice, "Leave now! I've told you before to stay away from this house and my child."
"Your child?" The man's face turned a scarlet red, "Jackson is my son too."
"No, he isn't any more," The woman chuckled, "Just like I'm no longer your wife."
The man's rage boiled up inside of him and then it overflowed so he couldn't contain it any longer. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled a gun from an inside pocket. The light from the open window reflected off of the gun's barrel and cast the light back on to his face, twisting its features as well as his maniac grin into that of a terrifying and wrathful demon. The sneering man looked harshly at his wife and then to his son before speaking with a venomous intent.
"Fine Amanda." The man addressed his ex wife.
The man raised the gun and aimed it at Amanda. Before she had time to react, the bullet ripped out of the gun and struck her squarely in the chest. The impact sprawled her body away from Jackson's grip, her mouth gasping soundlessly. When her head contacted with the corner of the dresser, Jackson's blue eyes clinched tightly shut. His eyes remained that way, even after a second crack of the gun went off and was followed by the thud of a heavier body hitting the floor. The crying boy had been left alone in his room as well as this world, orphaned in the most infinitesimal space of a minute.
User Reviews
Submitted by The_Drake (user info) at 2008-07-16 12:06:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
No Comment
Submitted by Ltap (user info) at 2008-07-16 09:01:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Bad. But I cheered when the bitch died, so have a +1.
Submitted by woolfe (user info) at 2008-07-16 08:23:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
this is good. be over in an hour or so.
Submitted by Littlebint (user info) at 2008-07-16 05:14:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by woolfe (user info) at 2008-07-16 04:46:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Littlebint, please don't take this the wrong way, but I want to bend you over and fuck you until the bed shatters into a pile of splinters.
xx
I have a very strong bed
Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2008-07-16 05:12:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by woolfe (user info) at 2008-07-16 04:46:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Littlebint, please don't take this the wrong way, but I want to bend you over and fuck you until the bed shatters into a pile of splinters.
Submitted by Littlebint (user info) at 2008-07-16 03:56:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
That really had a hell of a lot of words for something that bolied down to: 'Man shoots ex wife then shoots himself, in front of child.' Maybe it's too early and the caffeine hasnt kicked in yet.
Also you should have found a picture of a man who resembled your male character. Ian McShane rules but he doesnt have blonde hair.
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2008-07-16 03:12:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Well wasn't this a slightly scary balance of flowery phrases