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All The World; Keep Turning...(closed)
Topic Started: Sep 23 2009, 11:43 AM (45 Views)
sugoisake
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New season, new drama. XD

The early hours of the morning, deep orange sunlight touched upon the city of Buffalo. The early birds were out and about, but otherwise the streets were quiet but eventually the city would liven up with the passing hours. For many, these were precious moments with a cup of coffee and hot breakfast items to perk them up for the day. Precious moments where procrastinating university students frantically studied for the test that would be within the hour. And other people would get an early start on their work, opening shop, driving to work with ease in pace.

“Miss, you cant be here.”

Rays of light touch upon a playhouse nestled between the hustle and bustle of Downtown and the trendy area near the state college, where an opening performance will be held that very evening - a big production, a chance for thespians to demonstrate their craft among those who will attend. Until then, it was supposed to be closed to all except security, employees and actors who come early to practice at least until 10 am. Enter through the large glass doors and into the large, exquisite lobby displaying posters of upcoming performances, with rows of concession stands, signs to restrooms and a beautiful lounge that would be a lot mot. A sidelong glance to the left and there would be a door left ajar with only a pale bloodied arm visible, severed, with marks from the clawing of fingernails visible along the carpet.

“Don’t touch me!”

But that was not the scene to focus on, as intriguing as it was. Open the double doors into the wide, elaborate auditorium, with arches and large seats of dark red material that would be comfortable to sit through an opera. The rows of seats sloped down, surrounding the stage. Walking down the aisle and looking towards the center in passing, the body of a woman in the seats - unlike the person who had once owned the arm, she was still in one piece. Question if she was alive or merely knocked out.

“What are you?!”

On the stage was where the most interesting of exchanges was taking place. The dark wine drapes and a pair of convenient spotlights fall upon two figures. One was a woman with a pronounced hourglass figure in eccentric fashion; a blast from the past of 1950's garb; a dress with a wide collar, belted and a swing skirt. She carries herself with sophistication and a arrogance that becomes a woman of her caliber. She’s rich, though one would never know by looks alone and she prides herself on her choices in fashion - no, it was not the choice of costume for the show. The haughty woman’s face was contorted in fear and some form of disgust at the person who has so suddenly, violently entered her world, her stage!

“That doesn’t matter...”

The person was a girl in a muted classical looking dress, one-piece in design with antique lace and ruffles along the cuffs, detail and two tiers of ruffles along the bottom of the dress. She had a pair of wings, static at first, but closer inspection reveals they twitched and moved. There was a clip in her long tawny hair, a black rose in a bouquet of looped antique lace. Her stockings were visibly in laced patterns and her black boots reached up to her knees. She was sweet in face and dress alone; her expression was one of simmering anger. Her breaths, despite the hot lights, were puffs from the coolness that formed around her.

“What matters...is that you should be gone from this world.”

“And who are you to judge me?” The woman says, refusing to let the strange girl get the better of her. It was not as if she had anything to use on her. She was only another weird stalker among many. There was security around, was there? The woman fished for her cell phone. How she got in was beyond her, but she was not about to let her out without police escort. “Enough of this nonsense, I’m calling the police and have you arrested for harassment.”

The winged girl smiles, it would be quite cheerful and sweet had it not been for the present circumstances. The woman eyes widened as she feels something, a pressure starting at her forehead, sharp stabbing as if it were a sinus attack on the rise. The pressure grew, like barbed fingers that slowly clawed into her skull. She drops to her knees, screaming from the alien pain, her screams echoing throughout the empty auditorium - a grand performance it would be in a full house! The winged girl advances toward her, the woman can see those black boots moving to her. Through the brief glance she could give in her pain, she swears the phone breaks in half without being physically touched and flung out into the auditorium.

“You caught me in a bad mood Ruth Huffington.” She says, her voice a jarring gentleness. “I had not intended to strike you...but reading you, seeing you as I passed this morning, I could not resist. Consider it your good fortune today.”

A strike to the face from the winged girl felt like being smacked with a ton of bricks, the woman toppled backwards onto the hard stage. There was blood in her mouth, were her pearly teeth all right or were they red with the drawing of blood from her lip? The smaller girl advances on her again, smiling in that gentle way, as if she were relating a story she just heard. Her footsteps sound louder in this amphitheater than they should be, the clack of heels on the smooth, hard stage.

“How kind the heavens are to the undeserving. Living the life with all the blessings bestowed upon you. You have a flair for the performing arts, your family has money, your friends are kind and will always stand by you. And yet.” The winged girl’s gentle voice becomes impassive and she delivers a swift kick to her head. The contact and the Ruth’s moans of pain was devastating, echoing throughout the auditorium. Too bad no one would hear her, no one outside anyhow. The doors were shut, the people of the ticket booth would take their time coming to their work as they did any other day.

“You took it for granted. All of it!” The girl with wings, her voice once a soft simmer rose with the heat of her temper. “Why should you continue to hold such gifts when you won’t even appreciate them!”

Ruth scrambles to her feet just to feel a sharp kick into her side: once, twice. Another hard enough to feel the crack of a bone broken. She does not remember all of the hits landing, separated by brief blanks, flashes separating each kick. The attacker’s temper does not relent, but escalates in ferocity.

“People I care about suffer, they are not bestowed the fortune that you cast away with ease. Other have to suffer and yet you LIVE. WHY!”

The words from the girl didn’t make sense, a roar in her mind, her head. Her head lulled up to stare at her attacker. Up close, the pretty girl had a trickle of tears brimming her angry obsidian eyes. This bitch...this bitch who speaks odd words, accuses her of taking things for granted. The girl with white wings collapses atop of her, her long hair hiding her expression. The woman’s eyes widened as the realization dawned on her as the glint of a blade appeared from the folds of her dark dress and raised it into the air - this girl, an angel with demonic eyes, truly meant to kill her.

And why?

Luck of the draw.

Ruth shuts her eyes, waiting for the sharp pain to impale her. She was not sure if she screamed or not, but waiting for the point of contact, the tearing of flesh, the pain, anything!

A soft clank as the blade rests on the hardwood of the stage. Breathing, not only hers, but the girl who had just wished death upon her. The winged girl was shivering, staring down at the woman with wide, dark, and tear-brimmed eyes. To her, the woman did not seem to exist except as a vessel, a sack of meat shaped into a human and nothing more.

“Wha...what’s wrong...” She whispers, more to herself than to Ruth. "Why can't I? It's so simple, so deserved...right?"
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