... and the eyes keep watch behind her. Two glowing red abysses of optimization and efficiency. Her black dress fluttering in the winds of progress; the grinding twist of the cogs sending the slightest hint of an updraft into it's bloom. The dress hangs loosely against her malnourished frame, a single strap clinging to her shoulder in a fit of decency. It's brother gave into madness and frolicking in the dank breezes of the world, dancing macabre jigs to the squealing songs of un-oiled gears.

She is bold, to be sure. Her legs freshly crushed in the the teeth of dark men's safe haven and she still has a smile for the flourescent eyes that ride the windmill that grinds the faithful. Behind the hood, the man in black falters, why would she continue with that fucking smile? Her little blonde pigtails bounce in the breeze, blue-green eyes light up the room -- waltzing with the magenta on the horizon (that whispers little hopeful songs into her tiny little ears), and the skin from her legs sinks and slides into a formless puddle of flesh-puke.

He wills his hood back, and the smile melts from her face. All of her nightmares materialize into the demonic face that is before her. Where the lips should be hangs a set of oversized stitches, the twine (that the needle had winded through bone) curling upward into a discordant smile. The red eyes that were the only discernible feature in the blackness of the hood, arenot alone; they sit in asymmetrical hollows -- not sockets -- that sink in to the stone face. There is no nose, in its place some sort of rune was scraped into the bone that forms the outer layer of the face. No skin covers the bone, instead the bone was burned and charred black in the pits of hell. His head cocks to the right and the red eyes bore into her soul.

Her mind shakes her awake, the initial shock of staring into the face of Golgatha waning to a dull panic. Mother told me that I was the chosen one. God had told her I could set things right, her confidence grew as she wandered through this thought. Her boldness returning, her teeth swing back into a defiant smile. A picture of all that once shone as innocence in the world, riding atop the steel that rips souls from the hopeful.

Golgatha tightens his grip on the staff of his scythe. The scythe raises high above her head, but the girl will not flinch. The back of the scythe rains down upon her mercilessly. Each blow shattering teeth and ripping into the lower lip. And he looked down upon her, and saw that it was good.

She has no teeth... where they had been, now bloody pulp and sliced gums remain. Her lower lip dangling from a centimeter of skin, clinging to the corner of her mouth and bouncing to the rhythm of the wind like her dress. Her eyes roll into the back of her head, leaving only a blank white canvas for for painting upon. The tip of the scythe scrapes across, forming little 'x's so she might remember her lesson. He takes her wrists into his hands and drags her to the edge of the wheel, slowly and mechanically placing an arm on each side of the gear tooth. And once again he waits for the mill stone that grinds the faithful to steal away all hope.
Last edited by ZanasCross at Aug 10, 2011,
I really enjoyed the surreal portrait this piece painted, especially your juxtaposition of this monstrous creature and a little girl with blonde pigtails and blue-green eyes. It truly created a scene in my mind that was all at once beautiful and unsettling. For the most part, I thought your narration was spot-on (especially the third paragraph in which I completely was able to picture the creature). However, I do feel like you could comb through this again and tidy up some of your sentences and phrasings. Some border on over-descriptiveness and at points muddied up the scene you were developing. When you were on, you were on, but sometimes you threw too much at me and I felt like I was juggling too many details and descriptors. And although I do find the idea of a "chosen one" to be a little worn-out, I did like the content of the piece (from what I was able to interpret). If I was reading into it correctly, I enjoyed the subtleness of having the creature deform the girl's mouth and saying that her rolled-back eyes were canvases to be painted upon. It begs the question if this creature and the girl are somehow related, if the creature used to be someone similar to her. Just my interpretation of the situation.

Overall, I really enjoyed it mostly for the surreal aesthetic you created. I felt like a sci-fi Salvador Dali painting or something like that. Good shit.
here, My Dear, here it is