Blackwater Mirror
Can Not Break Rules
"Find me a body."
She was ten. The soft, innocent pout with black curls framing her bright, deep, piercing eyes that somehow showed an age well beyond a decade, staring up at a mother she had only known for twenty years now, stood as a child. This mother met the very child with cold, indifferent ebony orbs that shared not the faintest spark of curiosity for the strange request, especially from a being who clearly already had a body. The way this strange little shadow asked for such things; to find her a body, a sacrifice- blood- the dark women, wrapped in a cloth that swam and draped her body completely, could not find any interest in the mystery much anymore and simply stood like an ominous tower over the world, however small, and the raven-haired child felt no fear in or for her.
"You already have one." The wrinkles around the elderly woman's eyes sank even deeper at looking down and observing this. The girl pouted further and lit a fiery gaze up at he guardian. She was cross with the answer to her demand, and occasionally showed her anger with equally rage, but today she was tired, and decided to answer as deathly as her company.
"This one is broken." She subtly shaded her multiple cracks and frays tearing slightly past the edges of the cloth, like aging porcelain, from sight. Even though they would show her words true, that this body in her possession was indeed failing, no mercy nor pity would come from the woman seeing them.
The women's black stare lived on. Soon, though, Mother moved around her daughter with indifference, still no answer or acknowledgment, and continued on her well worn path to the garden where she could not be followed.
"That is very cruel, mother." The child spoke as she was passed and Mother, with one step out the back door, no longer felt the need that often arose during this routine, to look back. The dark angelica stood, still faced with her back to her guardian, spoke once more. This new sentence hinted with raw, pleading emotion. "You should never leave a child as young as I alone in a house. I could get hurt. I could die." The women stared back at the ebony haired child looking as if if dead already, even from the back, with her black curls suddenly frayed, porcelain skin cracked and webbed like glass could be- broken. The child turned and showed those eyes no longer like mirrors but instead like coal trying to glimmer and reflect, unable to hide her true form. The woman sighed, stepped aside and offered for the child to join in on the walk, then smiled as she knew the girl couldn't step into sunlight without a proper body. A real body.
"Then come along, dear Ma, if you are afraid of being alone." The smile was almost perfectly genuine and caring, but they both had been together long enough to know those smiles, along with similar things, had no place in their relationship. The child's appearance changed once more into pasty, finger-painted colors, blotchy and misplace. Hair pooled around her as if in water, her entire image a thin, milky skin on liquid air, thinning and thinning into a tangible outcome.
"The day you bring me a body," the sudden smokey apparition spoke, "I shall roam the gardens with you as often as you like." Ma turned and disappeared into the cold, dark corners of a lonesome Victorian house, leaving the women to drop such a tainted smile and leave the tomb once again, the sun fresh on her clammy skin.
She, the child, was a prisoner in her own domain- how ironic, the very thing she did. To go about and trap other souls within her own- and now, her home had trapped her. How- boring, really. There was nothing ever to do, and her 'mother' never restocked the library liked Ma frequently wished, in fact- Ma never often obtained what she wished these days, and not with the lack of seeking, but at least there was much to wish for now, unlike the days where she was living.
But the fact of the matter being, if she could choose over being bored in a cage that was this archaic house, or bored out in the light- she'd choose the ladder realm most definitely and without the slightest hesitation. At least, then, she wouldn't have to listen only to her mother's ramblings. At least- then she wouldn't have to be so- lonesom.
She refused in front of the grand mirror that took residence at the very top of the staircase, laying back against the wall so precariously. Many, many times Ma had entertained the thought of pushing it over, or, perhaps, throwing it over in the exact moment Mother was walking by underneath. But- dammit, she needed the women, or else her own body would crack much like a mirror over flesh.
The child gazed into her eyes, so black and foggy, and longed for those of blue she only held with a beating heart in hand, and well living flesh to contain it. Her own cracked fingertips grazed the surface of reflection and split deeper, as if the mirror had purposely lashed out against her in efforts to shatter her image. The little doppelganger in the mirror was also trying to break this monster. She needed a body, and by the looks of things, she needed one fast. If she didn't, that would break a rule.
She can not break rules...
And as her hand finally shattered completely, like a rock thrown angrily into glass, tears filled the crevasses forming in her once so soft ivory skin, lost forever in whatever darkness lurked within.
Pieces or her fluttered in a downward spiral, shimmering brilliantly in shadow, silently hitting wood. They weren't real, after all, and she stared at them with little interest as they disintegrated.
She needed a body unable to shatter.
A body able to sustain a water glass.
She was ten. The soft, innocent pout with black curls framing her bright, deep, piercing eyes that somehow showed an age well beyond a decade, staring up at a mother she had only known for twenty years now, stood as a child. This mother met the very child with cold, indifferent ebony orbs that shared not the faintest spark of curiosity for the strange request, especially from a being who clearly already had a body. The way this strange little shadow asked for such things; to find her a body, a sacrifice- blood- the dark women, wrapped in a cloth that swam and draped her body completely, could not find any interest in the mystery much anymore and simply stood like an ominous tower over the world, however small, and the raven-haired child felt no fear in or for her.
"You already have one." The wrinkles around the elderly woman's eyes sank even deeper at looking down and observing this. The girl pouted further and lit a fiery gaze up at he guardian. She was cross with the answer to her demand, and occasionally showed her anger with equally rage, but today she was tired, and decided to answer as deathly as her company.
"This one is broken." She subtly shaded her multiple cracks and frays tearing slightly past the edges of the cloth, like aging porcelain, from sight. Even though they would show her words true, that this body in her possession was indeed failing, no mercy nor pity would come from the woman seeing them.
The women's black stare lived on. Soon, though, Mother moved around her daughter with indifference, still no answer or acknowledgment, and continued on her well worn path to the garden where she could not be followed.
"That is very cruel, mother." The child spoke as she was passed and Mother, with one step out the back door, no longer felt the need that often arose during this routine, to look back. The dark angelica stood, still faced with her back to her guardian, spoke once more. This new sentence hinted with raw, pleading emotion. "You should never leave a child as young as I alone in a house. I could get hurt. I could die." The women stared back at the ebony haired child looking as if if dead already, even from the back, with her black curls suddenly frayed, porcelain skin cracked and webbed like glass could be- broken. The child turned and showed those eyes no longer like mirrors but instead like coal trying to glimmer and reflect, unable to hide her true form. The woman sighed, stepped aside and offered for the child to join in on the walk, then smiled as she knew the girl couldn't step into sunlight without a proper body. A real body.
"Then come along, dear Ma, if you are afraid of being alone." The smile was almost perfectly genuine and caring, but they both had been together long enough to know those smiles, along with similar things, had no place in their relationship. The child's appearance changed once more into pasty, finger-painted colors, blotchy and misplace. Hair pooled around her as if in water, her entire image a thin, milky skin on liquid air, thinning and thinning into a tangible outcome.
"The day you bring me a body," the sudden smokey apparition spoke, "I shall roam the gardens with you as often as you like." Ma turned and disappeared into the cold, dark corners of a lonesome Victorian house, leaving the women to drop such a tainted smile and leave the tomb once again, the sun fresh on her clammy skin.
She, the child, was a prisoner in her own domain- how ironic, the very thing she did. To go about and trap other souls within her own- and now, her home had trapped her. How- boring, really. There was nothing ever to do, and her 'mother' never restocked the library liked Ma frequently wished, in fact- Ma never often obtained what she wished these days, and not with the lack of seeking, but at least there was much to wish for now, unlike the days where she was living.
But the fact of the matter being, if she could choose over being bored in a cage that was this archaic house, or bored out in the light- she'd choose the ladder realm most definitely and without the slightest hesitation. At least, then, she wouldn't have to listen only to her mother's ramblings. At least- then she wouldn't have to be so- lonesom.
She refused in front of the grand mirror that took residence at the very top of the staircase, laying back against the wall so precariously. Many, many times Ma had entertained the thought of pushing it over, or, perhaps, throwing it over in the exact moment Mother was walking by underneath. But- dammit, she needed the women, or else her own body would crack much like a mirror over flesh.
The child gazed into her eyes, so black and foggy, and longed for those of blue she only held with a beating heart in hand, and well living flesh to contain it. Her own cracked fingertips grazed the surface of reflection and split deeper, as if the mirror had purposely lashed out against her in efforts to shatter her image. The little doppelganger in the mirror was also trying to break this monster. She needed a body, and by the looks of things, she needed one fast. If she didn't, that would break a rule.
She can not break rules...
And as her hand finally shattered completely, like a rock thrown angrily into glass, tears filled the crevasses forming in her once so soft ivory skin, lost forever in whatever darkness lurked within.
Pieces or her fluttered in a downward spiral, shimmering brilliantly in shadow, silently hitting wood. They weren't real, after all, and she stared at them with little interest as they disintegrated.
She needed a body unable to shatter.
A body able to sustain a water glass.