(c) Picture Perfect. (R)
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I am Revolution :: Words :: Stories :: Original Fiction
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(c) Picture Perfect. (R)
by she had the world. Tue 09 Sep 2008, 7:16 pm
Title: Picture Perfect
Rating: R - strong themes.
Author: Me.
Status: One-shot.
Summary/Exerpt:
It was the perfect life. The perfect people.
Her future was set. Her life was easy.
All she had to do was smile.
But nothing is what it seems.
Notes: This is kind of personal, it was written with a strong message. Let's see if you get it. :]
- - - -
The serenade of a bluebird floated through the open crack of the bedroom window as the sun rose gracefully to the east. While the crisp morning breeze crept through the empty space between the sill and glass, playfully enticing the lace of the curtains with its power as they swayed in its wake; like a dancer to its music. Beneath the window, the gentle breeze continued to seduce the bronze wind chimes hanging by the front door of the picture perfect house, complete with a white picket fence.
She woke to the chimes music as they clattered together below her window, forcing her eyes to open and welcome the new day with a forced smile- her mother had taught her never to frown. With a sigh she dragged her stress ridden body from the heavenly sheets that had provided so much needed comfort to her craving body. Months upon months of study to pass the entrance exam and get into medical school had worn her out, but she couldn't give up now. It was of course, her job to follow in her father’s footsteps and take over the family's medical practice. It was in her blood, her future from the minute she was brought into this world; naked and screaming as the minutes until her death started to tick away before her very eyes.
With nimble feet she made her way across the bedroom towards the wall mirror hanging over her dresser where the reflection of a girl gazed back at her. Taking the hairbrush in one hand she raised it to the blond locks that bounced around her shoulders as she guided its path through her hair. Her sapphire blues staring out of a dazed expression as she continued to slide the brush through her hair, watching the Barbie that stared back at her from the glass with a vague, far away expression that suggested nothing existed inside her head. She was just another pretty face.
“Marie, breakfast.” Her angelic mother appeared by the open door to her bedroom, primped and beautiful as if she'd stepped straight out of a detergent ad.
“Yes mother,” she found her mouth replying for her as she watched her mother’s smiling reflection in the mirror in front of her, the brush still making paths through her lush locks as her attention turned back to what was in front of her.
The house had smelt exactly the same today as she had always remembered it, potpourri, that well known smell of dried petals of roses and other flowers that could make the manliest man gag if he were to get to much of it. Which he wouldn't, but if he did...
“Marie?” Her mother’s voice floated into her ears from the kitchen below. She instantly snapped out of the daze she'd found herself victim too once again and made her way down the stairs just as her mother sat a dish of eggs on their kitchen table. Her actions followed by proudly patting down her mauve day suit and smiling at the breakfast she'd achieved as her father sat perched close by, his glasses sitting dangerously on the tip of his nose as his eyes grazed the surface of the daily paper.
Her legs found their way to a wooden chair as she slid her body into it, watching the morning routine evolve before her eyes as if it had ghosted out of a 1950's sitcom with its stereotyped happy family. Made complete with the cliché kiss between both of her parents.
“Your mother and I,” her father had finally tore his eyes from the mass of paper in his hands to examine his daughter with the same stern eyes he always had. “Are going to the club today so yo-”
“Dinner is in the fridge, dear.” Her mother beat him to the chase, pointing to the fridge and flashing her pearly whites. Right, of course, it was a Sunday. Her parents had to keep up their weekly appearance at the local Country Club where they could flout their success like the other posers they enjoyed a game of badminton with. While Sunday for Marie, meant attending to the demands of the same bunch of perfectly powdered porcelain dolls, every and each one of them hiding the cracks in the flawless surface of their lives with a wide, painted smile. All this would happen before she locked herself away in her bedroom for the evening, drowning in the text books that she despised so.
“Okay,” was the lucid word that escaped her timid lips as she barely filled her plate with the contents of her mother’s cooking and lifted the fork to her mouth.
The morning was then dreamed away as she found herself surrounded by the carbon-copies of herself. Each of their fake laughter echoing through the café she'd been sitting in as another shared her back seat experiences of their night with a local jock. That was the general direction of the daily proceedings under the afternoon sun's glare. Dull, boring, redundant gossip causing a sigh from her chest as she found herself upon the surface of her coffee. The faultless reflection of ivory foundation and mascara bearing mask to the dimmed orbs of her eyes. She had to keep up her own appearances, or else the life she knew would be knocked down. Stolen from her unsuspecting self and left to rot with the outcasts, deemed a failure.
“Marie!” A perky voice called to her from across the tabletop, disturbing her thoughts from the depths of the china mug and hungrily stealing her attention back into reality.
“Huh- yeah? What?” Like a confused child she looks around at the staring faces surrounding her. Each of their gazes mimicking the other as unnerving silence fell over their artificial expressions.
“What are you doing?” Eyebrows were raised in concern forcing her to watch the reply that would follow in order to keep tongues wagging.
“N-nothing.” Shit. She was stuttering.
Now every pair of judging eyes was watching her- raping her soul for answers. Another rolled their eyes subtly, turning away in disgust.
“I have to go. Lots to do. Sorry girls.” Her heart was pulsating with fear of being caught out. Of what? Who knows? With another forced smile she was leaving, her feet crashing along the pavement that illuminated under the sun’s rays, blinding her eyes. Each step reoccurring quicker than the last until her legs broke into a run, thrashing along the cement underfoot in rhythm to her now panicking heart and the protection of home came into view.
They couldn't find out.
Slipping the key into the lock her heart slowed and its steady rhythm returned. The thoughts and safety of home calming her panicking heart, and her face- her face remained exactly the same. Expressionless, with a forced smile.
The lock clicked and the door swung open, the smell of home attacking her senses. With one step after the other she entered the doll house. Each room painted a mundane cream and the furniture looked like it had never been used. Her mother had left not even the smallest amount of dust or dirt, and yet her home mimicked every other along the clean street.
She was living in a movie set, perfect in every way with not even the slightest trace of the life that had supposedly inhabited it.
A picture hung on the wall. Her parents. They were young, holding each other and smiling at the camera. Their perfect aligned white teeth bearing for all to see. Another was next to it. Mother and child, smiling. Another, smiling. And another, smiling. Each smile was the same. Just as fake, just as forced. The eyes the only entrances to a tortured soul if one were to look hard enough.
She shook it off. What did it matter? This was her life, it was everything she knew.
The stairs made the tiniest creak as she wandered up them. Revealing the smallest flaw, add pressure and the entire staircase would crumble under it. A smirk crept across her lips, there was flaw.
Reaching the landing she returned to her bedroom, forcing herself to continue the daily routine. Study. She had to take care of her future. She would become a doctor, like her father before her. It was the future she wanted. Right?
An hour was lost in the scientific world of chemicals and human anatomy while the sun began to set in the west. The bluebirds were gone, the wind had died. Darkness was inevitable. That's when a thought struck her and her soul responded to its calls, shutting the book she'd wasted so much time drowning in and standing up. Following the call of her thoughts. But where were they taking her?
They brought her to her father’s den. She didn't come here much, but it was as she'd remembered. Dark with little life, and a box of cigars sat untouched on the oak desk in the middle of the room. With grace her feet guided her way to the draw of her father’s desk, sliding the draw open and losing her hand in its darkness and returning with an object of terror. One that would strike absolute horror in the eye of innocence.
She smiled at the silver object in her hand, the barrel fitting perfectly in her smooth palm as her fingers clasped it close. Without thinking anymore of it, she walked out of the den and through the lifeless home. Her parents, they would be home soon. They'd come walking through the door hand in hand, smiling at each other before entering Marie's bedroom to check on her study.
Tonight would be different.
As the envious moon replaced the sun she stared at the loaded gun lying on silk bed sheets, her mind mulling over her options.
This life was perfect, too perfect.
With a swift movement the icy tool was back in her grasp. A motion of her free hand saw ink hitting paper, conquering its pure surface with the truth.
The rhythm of her heart began to pick up, adrenaline tearing its way through her body as emotion took control. The cold reality of the barrel against her temple sent shivers across her skin, exciting her senses and enticing her mind. Freedom.
Then there was a shot.
The bittersweet colour of innocent life spilled across the beds surface. Her lifeless body lay collapsed over what was the perfect life, the sapphire orbs staring into nothing and being the only entrance into the secret world of her mind- what a tortured soul. An innocent smile etched on her flawless skin. This smile was different though, because for once she was truly smiling, with the tool of her suicide resting by her still body and a blood stained note in her hand.
It's always the one you least suspect.
Their porcelain world was shattered before oblivious eyes.
Nobody knew why, nobody could explain.
A picture perfect life, stained forever in crimson release.
Rating: R - strong themes.
Author: Me.
Status: One-shot.
Summary/Exerpt:
It was the perfect life. The perfect people.
Her future was set. Her life was easy.
All she had to do was smile.
But nothing is what it seems.
Notes: This is kind of personal, it was written with a strong message. Let's see if you get it. :]
- - - -
The serenade of a bluebird floated through the open crack of the bedroom window as the sun rose gracefully to the east. While the crisp morning breeze crept through the empty space between the sill and glass, playfully enticing the lace of the curtains with its power as they swayed in its wake; like a dancer to its music. Beneath the window, the gentle breeze continued to seduce the bronze wind chimes hanging by the front door of the picture perfect house, complete with a white picket fence.
She woke to the chimes music as they clattered together below her window, forcing her eyes to open and welcome the new day with a forced smile- her mother had taught her never to frown. With a sigh she dragged her stress ridden body from the heavenly sheets that had provided so much needed comfort to her craving body. Months upon months of study to pass the entrance exam and get into medical school had worn her out, but she couldn't give up now. It was of course, her job to follow in her father’s footsteps and take over the family's medical practice. It was in her blood, her future from the minute she was brought into this world; naked and screaming as the minutes until her death started to tick away before her very eyes.
With nimble feet she made her way across the bedroom towards the wall mirror hanging over her dresser where the reflection of a girl gazed back at her. Taking the hairbrush in one hand she raised it to the blond locks that bounced around her shoulders as she guided its path through her hair. Her sapphire blues staring out of a dazed expression as she continued to slide the brush through her hair, watching the Barbie that stared back at her from the glass with a vague, far away expression that suggested nothing existed inside her head. She was just another pretty face.
“Marie, breakfast.” Her angelic mother appeared by the open door to her bedroom, primped and beautiful as if she'd stepped straight out of a detergent ad.
“Yes mother,” she found her mouth replying for her as she watched her mother’s smiling reflection in the mirror in front of her, the brush still making paths through her lush locks as her attention turned back to what was in front of her.
The house had smelt exactly the same today as she had always remembered it, potpourri, that well known smell of dried petals of roses and other flowers that could make the manliest man gag if he were to get to much of it. Which he wouldn't, but if he did...
“Marie?” Her mother’s voice floated into her ears from the kitchen below. She instantly snapped out of the daze she'd found herself victim too once again and made her way down the stairs just as her mother sat a dish of eggs on their kitchen table. Her actions followed by proudly patting down her mauve day suit and smiling at the breakfast she'd achieved as her father sat perched close by, his glasses sitting dangerously on the tip of his nose as his eyes grazed the surface of the daily paper.
Her legs found their way to a wooden chair as she slid her body into it, watching the morning routine evolve before her eyes as if it had ghosted out of a 1950's sitcom with its stereotyped happy family. Made complete with the cliché kiss between both of her parents.
“Your mother and I,” her father had finally tore his eyes from the mass of paper in his hands to examine his daughter with the same stern eyes he always had. “Are going to the club today so yo-”
“Dinner is in the fridge, dear.” Her mother beat him to the chase, pointing to the fridge and flashing her pearly whites. Right, of course, it was a Sunday. Her parents had to keep up their weekly appearance at the local Country Club where they could flout their success like the other posers they enjoyed a game of badminton with. While Sunday for Marie, meant attending to the demands of the same bunch of perfectly powdered porcelain dolls, every and each one of them hiding the cracks in the flawless surface of their lives with a wide, painted smile. All this would happen before she locked herself away in her bedroom for the evening, drowning in the text books that she despised so.
“Okay,” was the lucid word that escaped her timid lips as she barely filled her plate with the contents of her mother’s cooking and lifted the fork to her mouth.
The morning was then dreamed away as she found herself surrounded by the carbon-copies of herself. Each of their fake laughter echoing through the café she'd been sitting in as another shared her back seat experiences of their night with a local jock. That was the general direction of the daily proceedings under the afternoon sun's glare. Dull, boring, redundant gossip causing a sigh from her chest as she found herself upon the surface of her coffee. The faultless reflection of ivory foundation and mascara bearing mask to the dimmed orbs of her eyes. She had to keep up her own appearances, or else the life she knew would be knocked down. Stolen from her unsuspecting self and left to rot with the outcasts, deemed a failure.
“Marie!” A perky voice called to her from across the tabletop, disturbing her thoughts from the depths of the china mug and hungrily stealing her attention back into reality.
“Huh- yeah? What?” Like a confused child she looks around at the staring faces surrounding her. Each of their gazes mimicking the other as unnerving silence fell over their artificial expressions.
“What are you doing?” Eyebrows were raised in concern forcing her to watch the reply that would follow in order to keep tongues wagging.
“N-nothing.” Shit. She was stuttering.
Now every pair of judging eyes was watching her- raping her soul for answers. Another rolled their eyes subtly, turning away in disgust.
“I have to go. Lots to do. Sorry girls.” Her heart was pulsating with fear of being caught out. Of what? Who knows? With another forced smile she was leaving, her feet crashing along the pavement that illuminated under the sun’s rays, blinding her eyes. Each step reoccurring quicker than the last until her legs broke into a run, thrashing along the cement underfoot in rhythm to her now panicking heart and the protection of home came into view.
They couldn't find out.
Slipping the key into the lock her heart slowed and its steady rhythm returned. The thoughts and safety of home calming her panicking heart, and her face- her face remained exactly the same. Expressionless, with a forced smile.
The lock clicked and the door swung open, the smell of home attacking her senses. With one step after the other she entered the doll house. Each room painted a mundane cream and the furniture looked like it had never been used. Her mother had left not even the smallest amount of dust or dirt, and yet her home mimicked every other along the clean street.
She was living in a movie set, perfect in every way with not even the slightest trace of the life that had supposedly inhabited it.
A picture hung on the wall. Her parents. They were young, holding each other and smiling at the camera. Their perfect aligned white teeth bearing for all to see. Another was next to it. Mother and child, smiling. Another, smiling. And another, smiling. Each smile was the same. Just as fake, just as forced. The eyes the only entrances to a tortured soul if one were to look hard enough.
She shook it off. What did it matter? This was her life, it was everything she knew.
The stairs made the tiniest creak as she wandered up them. Revealing the smallest flaw, add pressure and the entire staircase would crumble under it. A smirk crept across her lips, there was flaw.
Reaching the landing she returned to her bedroom, forcing herself to continue the daily routine. Study. She had to take care of her future. She would become a doctor, like her father before her. It was the future she wanted. Right?
An hour was lost in the scientific world of chemicals and human anatomy while the sun began to set in the west. The bluebirds were gone, the wind had died. Darkness was inevitable. That's when a thought struck her and her soul responded to its calls, shutting the book she'd wasted so much time drowning in and standing up. Following the call of her thoughts. But where were they taking her?
They brought her to her father’s den. She didn't come here much, but it was as she'd remembered. Dark with little life, and a box of cigars sat untouched on the oak desk in the middle of the room. With grace her feet guided her way to the draw of her father’s desk, sliding the draw open and losing her hand in its darkness and returning with an object of terror. One that would strike absolute horror in the eye of innocence.
She smiled at the silver object in her hand, the barrel fitting perfectly in her smooth palm as her fingers clasped it close. Without thinking anymore of it, she walked out of the den and through the lifeless home. Her parents, they would be home soon. They'd come walking through the door hand in hand, smiling at each other before entering Marie's bedroom to check on her study.
Tonight would be different.
As the envious moon replaced the sun she stared at the loaded gun lying on silk bed sheets, her mind mulling over her options.
This life was perfect, too perfect.
With a swift movement the icy tool was back in her grasp. A motion of her free hand saw ink hitting paper, conquering its pure surface with the truth.
The rhythm of her heart began to pick up, adrenaline tearing its way through her body as emotion took control. The cold reality of the barrel against her temple sent shivers across her skin, exciting her senses and enticing her mind. Freedom.
Then there was a shot.
The bittersweet colour of innocent life spilled across the beds surface. Her lifeless body lay collapsed over what was the perfect life, the sapphire orbs staring into nothing and being the only entrance into the secret world of her mind- what a tortured soul. An innocent smile etched on her flawless skin. This smile was different though, because for once she was truly smiling, with the tool of her suicide resting by her still body and a blood stained note in her hand.
It's always the one you least suspect.
Their porcelain world was shattered before oblivious eyes.
Nobody knew why, nobody could explain.
A picture perfect life, stained forever in crimson release.
Last edited by plzkthnx. on Thu 11 Sep 2008, 9:43 am; edited 2 times in total
she had the world.- Administrator.
-
Number of posts : 509
Age : 34
Re: (c) Picture Perfect. (R)
by LADIES AND GENTLEMEN Tue 09 Sep 2008, 7:20 pm
I read this aaaages ago... back when we first met, I think around when you first became a mod
But it will still never cease to amaze me.
I particularly adore the last line - it's just so... brilliant.
I cant give this the review it deserves, especially after reading it ;_; because my brain is half dead and half having a breakdown over how amazing you are
butbut... I just thought you should know.
But it will still never cease to amaze me.
I particularly adore the last line - it's just so... brilliant.
I cant give this the review it deserves, especially after reading it ;_; because my brain is half dead and half having a breakdown over how amazing you are
butbut... I just thought you should know.
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN- Administrator.
-
Number of posts : 3875
Age : 32
Location : living the street rat nightlife -
Re: (c) Picture Perfect. (R)
by she had the world. Tue 09 Sep 2008, 7:20 pm
Thanks Mikey, knowing that means a lot to me.
she had the world.- Administrator.
-
Number of posts : 509
Age : 34
Re: (c) Picture Perfect. (R)
by the takedown. Tue 09 Sep 2008, 7:27 pm
I'm the same as Mikey. Back when we first got close, when you were havign an issue with another person with a shared story. I read this, and instantly fell in love with it.
I love it, and theres nothing else I can say.
I don't want to spoil the beauty
I love it, and theres nothing else I can say.
I don't want to spoil the beauty
the takedown.- Administrator.
-
Number of posts : 1907
Age : 25
Location : Imperfecting the Perfect -
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