Saint in the City
The Ballad of Mona Lisa
He starts to notice empty bottles of gin
And takes a moment to assess the sin she's paid for
A lonely speaker in a conversation
Her words are spinning through his ears again
There's nothing wrong with just a taste of what you've paid for
-Panic! At the Disco
--------
I was dreaming, I was sure of it.
Everything around me was too overdone, too over the top. The lockers around me towered over my head, but the hallway seemed much to small for me to stand upright in.
The hall was crowded, but I saw none of the other people. They were just faceless ghosts to me.
It was my high school. There was no doubt in my mind. My dream had recreated it perfectly, if only out of proportion. The lockers were the same shade of grey, boring and mundane, students' art hung with pride by their teachers, the floor, impeccably clean for a school of so many students.
I saw none of this though. I was focused on the end of the hallway. On the body of a girl, laying on the ground, her long brown hair strewn around her head, obscuring her face.
The bodies around me faded and I was left alone with the girl in the hallway.
I stepped closer and saw the puddle of blood surrounding the girl's teenage frame, slowly inching away from her, making its way closer to where I stood.
I looked down to track the progress of her crimson blood and for the first time noticed the knife I had clutched in my hand.
The blade was dripping small droplets of blood, as if it had been the one cut and was slowly bleeding to death. The drops steadily met the floor, soon joining with the blood of the girl.
I glanced back at the body to find she had moved, she was sitting now, her face now visible to me. She had deep brown eyes, so dark that they appeared to be one with her pupil. Her face was pale with a thin scattering of freckles, like stars in the night sky. Her lips opened and her mouth moved.
"I know who did this." She whispered to me, "I know."
I turned away from her face. To the walls, to the lockers, to anything but those deep brown eyes, burning into my own. I could feel her eyes on me. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled and I shivered.
"Look at me."
I would not, could not. I stared at the pool of blood. It had reached my shoes, soaking through the thin fabric and turning my shoes a sinister red.
"Look at me!" She yelled and I was forced to again lay my eyes upon her.
She had stood up, her feet soaking in her blood and her eyes alive with hatred.
"You did this to me."
I couldn't speak, my lips held together by some force other than my own. I took a step backwards, trying to escape her eyes, those eyes burning with her accusation.
"You did this to me!" She repeated louder.
She took a step toward me.
And I ran, leaving bloody footprints in my wake.
And takes a moment to assess the sin she's paid for
A lonely speaker in a conversation
Her words are spinning through his ears again
There's nothing wrong with just a taste of what you've paid for
-Panic! At the Disco
--------
I was dreaming, I was sure of it.
Everything around me was too overdone, too over the top. The lockers around me towered over my head, but the hallway seemed much to small for me to stand upright in.
The hall was crowded, but I saw none of the other people. They were just faceless ghosts to me.
It was my high school. There was no doubt in my mind. My dream had recreated it perfectly, if only out of proportion. The lockers were the same shade of grey, boring and mundane, students' art hung with pride by their teachers, the floor, impeccably clean for a school of so many students.
I saw none of this though. I was focused on the end of the hallway. On the body of a girl, laying on the ground, her long brown hair strewn around her head, obscuring her face.
The bodies around me faded and I was left alone with the girl in the hallway.
I stepped closer and saw the puddle of blood surrounding the girl's teenage frame, slowly inching away from her, making its way closer to where I stood.
I looked down to track the progress of her crimson blood and for the first time noticed the knife I had clutched in my hand.
The blade was dripping small droplets of blood, as if it had been the one cut and was slowly bleeding to death. The drops steadily met the floor, soon joining with the blood of the girl.
I glanced back at the body to find she had moved, she was sitting now, her face now visible to me. She had deep brown eyes, so dark that they appeared to be one with her pupil. Her face was pale with a thin scattering of freckles, like stars in the night sky. Her lips opened and her mouth moved.
"I know who did this." She whispered to me, "I know."
I turned away from her face. To the walls, to the lockers, to anything but those deep brown eyes, burning into my own. I could feel her eyes on me. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled and I shivered.
"Look at me."
I would not, could not. I stared at the pool of blood. It had reached my shoes, soaking through the thin fabric and turning my shoes a sinister red.
"Look at me!" She yelled and I was forced to again lay my eyes upon her.
She had stood up, her feet soaking in her blood and her eyes alive with hatred.
"You did this to me."
I couldn't speak, my lips held together by some force other than my own. I took a step backwards, trying to escape her eyes, those eyes burning with her accusation.
"You did this to me!" She repeated louder.
She took a step toward me.
And I ran, leaving bloody footprints in my wake.