primrose five Φ dream post Φ "in my head you fulfill my fantasy"
✿ [if you were king you'd set me free]
[it's a bright day. a really bright day, and there's the distinct smell of children's feet and spilled milk. it's a park; a loud and busy one full of running children, screams of delight, ice cream, swings, scraped knees and lost toys in the sandbox.]
[that sandbox...it's huge. it's an ocean of childish delight and dreams and wonders built from a desturctable material that is just as remoldable as clay. it's dry clay, two small children had discovered - a young child of around four or five, and a toddler with her hair in big, curly pigtails.]
[they're playing a game. or an excuse for a game. the blond boy is dumping sand on his little sisters legs and she, seemingly pursueded that this is indeed a game. she giggles, and smiles at him, and he makes a face at her in return.]
Yoh.
[he pauses. stands up. and in a flash of an eye, he's gone. the day seems a bit colder, and the park a bit emptier all of a sudden, and the toddler shifts in her sandy seat. alone.]
[the child looked back over her shoulder, pouting determinedly as she made to stand up and follow him.]
Yoh? Yo - OFPH.
[small, babyish shoelaces caught under her feet, and with all the grace of a fallen angel, smashed her head so hard against the wooden side of the sandbox that her hairline seemed to all but spurt blood.]
✿ [sometimes it's as bad as it could be]
[the world has shifted dramatically. it's grey and dusty and pains gingerly blinked open eyes. there's tears and blood and dirty everywhere, plants thrown from their pots and books strewn among the rubble of what looks like a destroyed building.]
[it's chaotic, and yet, in the eyes of a seven year old, there is a clear pathway to the front door of the broken and crumbled establishment. the world sways as she stands; it's dangerous to walk through the remains, even she knew, and the sound of broken glass crunching under her feet was the only sound. it's cold despite having been a bland day, and up in the sky the sun gleams with almost evil intent.]
[it's hiding something; that star. it's smirking and hiding something and it's scary and she doesn't know what to do about that other than keep walking in this seemingly clear cut pathway over the rumble and chaos and destruction, and does so silently until there's a cough, and a heavy, pained groan]
M - Mina...
...Mommy?
✿ [sometimes the sound is deafening]
Shopping? Shopping, are you serious?
[big hands enclose around tiny shoulders, shaking with a ferverent and angry passion. a large red, obscured and hazy face is close to hers, and all she can do is nod.]
[nod and nod and try not to cry when little bits of spit fleck her face.]
This is the third - Why do you keep saying that, Minatsuki!?
D - daddy -
She isn't shopping! Don't you think she would have come back by now?
...N - no.
[he released her shoulders and the little girl fell flat on her backside, scrambling away toward the couch.]
D - daddy, don't - I - No! Stoppit!!
✿ [sometimes it's a rose and sometimes the smell is sobering]
[this one's short and it's simple.]
[do you remember the blond boy from the sandbox. he's older now, and his hair has grown. and so has the little girls; her braids are longer and one of them is covered in what looks like mud, as is half of her face and clothing, and she's crying - tear tracks in her mud mask.]
[the blond boy reaches over to grab his little sisters hand, but she flinches and shies away.]
S - sorry, Y -
No, I'm sorry, Mina...I really am.
✖ [i give it i take it i come back for more]
And how does that make you feel?
[this room is dark. it looks like it's made of primarily dark, deep wood, with only a single window in the whole damn room which is…obscured.]
[by a tall figure in an even taller backed chair. despite the fact there's almost no light in the room, this figure is illuminated around the edges enough to see the rather leery expression he's giving as he leans across the desk.]
[there's a mug on the desk - a coffee mug with a lip stain of the dark liquid along the rim of the cup. it's alluring an pure white apart from that little stain.]
[she's not paying attention to this man. so he tries again.]
How does that make you feel, Mina.
[his tongue is long - long and thin, and if you listen really hard, there's a hissing sound when he speaks. it's like a snake tongue - flicking back and forth and speaking in volumes of intention that just isn't being spoken and is far too above the comprehension skills of a little girl]
[still she tries.]
I don't know.
"I don't know" is not an answer, Mina.
…I don't know.
[she shrugs, and there is the sound of hissing again, and then of rustling clothing as the brunette child messes with her skirts. there's a sigh, next, and the illuminated figure lifts a hand to rub across his wide forehead.]
Your teacher sent me here because you kicked another little girl. Is that true?
[she shakes her head.]
[there's a pen on his desk by the mug. it's shiny and gold and she wants it - to just hold it and maybe…]
Mina - don't lie to me.
[she shakes her head again, but shifts in her chair, scooting closer to the desk and leaning over the table top much like he was. her knees are pressed painfully against the desk's side, but she ignores it as the man across from her shifts.]
I'm not a liar.
[his hands move from under his hissing little chin. he does have a little chin - a big forehead and a little chin, and deep, deep eyes that are far too hard to make out. and not worth it.]
[the gold pen is closer to her hand now. it's big - a miniature sword when compared to the babyish, thin hands of a child. a little child, too.]
I'm not.
[his face takes up the whole screen. emotionless and dark and large and - gosh, everything's dark. the whole screen of your guide is dark. and there's that pen - and that hand - and]
[and lots of screaming. a little blood, too, but mostly screaming]
✖ [i bend it i break it i even the score]
You're disgusting.
[there's a long pause, and a self conscious giggle that just reeks of innocence and purity. too much so, really.]
I know.
☠ [i thank you for the hollywood ending]
[a sterile hospital room, fitted with a torturous looking chair and other such devices. but the most prominent is the silver scalpel protruding from her abdomen. it's moving with her stomach, glinting from the lights above.]
[and there's screaming. because she is a virgin this time around - a deadman virgin and it hurts, even more as the gloved hands come into view and rip the blade from her skin, only to return to the wound.]
[fingers are prying, and there's even more screaming.]
STOP! STOPPIT! Take. It. OUT!
[it's hard, but there's no crying. only screaming - angry grunts as the first hand slips under her skin. it's hot - burning - and the liquid slipping down the loosened, abused skin of her abdomen is closer to sweat than tears, and becomes blood the second it passes the slit with the hands.]
[a sickly sweet - aroused? - voice coos at her from beyond the hands]
There, there, Hummingbird. It's almost over, you know?
[but it's not. that is a placating statement and this horror is only just beginning when there's the sound of blades snipping together - like scissors - and something pink and fleshy and bloody and -]
[pulsating]
[- is ripped from within her.]
[one more scream. and it's tampered short, as brown eyes roll up into her skull and things go pretty black. and they stay that way for now…]
☠ [it feels like a kiss on the mouth]
I won't hurt you.
[the image of a faceless boy swims before your very eyes. he's thin - lanky.]
[shiny, almost, in another dark setting, and his lips - fuzzy and shifting - are set in a firm expression. he has a bandage on both his wrists, and he's wearing…some sort of costume. a stupid, costume boxers outfit with a 'DW' and a weird symbol on the bottom of his pants. he's leaning, and you can tell immediately he's wooded, favoring one side of his body. his weak -]
[puny]
[little]
[boy body.]
[and she whimpers.]
…Oh, Ganta…
[and - he's distracted. for a moment he looks up, fuzzy and hazily outlined still. and then -]
[he crumples. and blood falls everywhere.]
[static.]
[three minutes of static and then a garbled, sleepy, and agitated word that's half cut off. someone just woke up]
- uck.
[it's a bright day. a really bright day, and there's the distinct smell of children's feet and spilled milk. it's a park; a loud and busy one full of running children, screams of delight, ice cream, swings, scraped knees and lost toys in the sandbox.]
[that sandbox...it's huge. it's an ocean of childish delight and dreams and wonders built from a desturctable material that is just as remoldable as clay. it's dry clay, two small children had discovered - a young child of around four or five, and a toddler with her hair in big, curly pigtails.]
[they're playing a game. or an excuse for a game. the blond boy is dumping sand on his little sisters legs and she, seemingly pursueded that this is indeed a game. she giggles, and smiles at him, and he makes a face at her in return.]
Yoh.
[he pauses. stands up. and in a flash of an eye, he's gone. the day seems a bit colder, and the park a bit emptier all of a sudden, and the toddler shifts in her sandy seat. alone.]
[the child looked back over her shoulder, pouting determinedly as she made to stand up and follow him.]
Yoh? Yo - OFPH.
[small, babyish shoelaces caught under her feet, and with all the grace of a fallen angel, smashed her head so hard against the wooden side of the sandbox that her hairline seemed to all but spurt blood.]
✿ [sometimes it's as bad as it could be]
[the world has shifted dramatically. it's grey and dusty and pains gingerly blinked open eyes. there's tears and blood and dirty everywhere, plants thrown from their pots and books strewn among the rubble of what looks like a destroyed building.]
[it's chaotic, and yet, in the eyes of a seven year old, there is a clear pathway to the front door of the broken and crumbled establishment. the world sways as she stands; it's dangerous to walk through the remains, even she knew, and the sound of broken glass crunching under her feet was the only sound. it's cold despite having been a bland day, and up in the sky the sun gleams with almost evil intent.]
[it's hiding something; that star. it's smirking and hiding something and it's scary and she doesn't know what to do about that other than keep walking in this seemingly clear cut pathway over the rumble and chaos and destruction, and does so silently until there's a cough, and a heavy, pained groan]
M - Mina...
...Mommy?
✿ [sometimes the sound is deafening]
Shopping? Shopping, are you serious?
[big hands enclose around tiny shoulders, shaking with a ferverent and angry passion. a large red, obscured and hazy face is close to hers, and all she can do is nod.]
[nod and nod and try not to cry when little bits of spit fleck her face.]
This is the third - Why do you keep saying that, Minatsuki!?
D - daddy -
She isn't shopping! Don't you think she would have come back by now?
...N - no.
[he released her shoulders and the little girl fell flat on her backside, scrambling away toward the couch.]
D - daddy, don't - I - No! Stoppit!!
✿ [sometimes it's a rose and sometimes the smell is sobering]
[this one's short and it's simple.]
[do you remember the blond boy from the sandbox. he's older now, and his hair has grown. and so has the little girls; her braids are longer and one of them is covered in what looks like mud, as is half of her face and clothing, and she's crying - tear tracks in her mud mask.]
[the blond boy reaches over to grab his little sisters hand, but she flinches and shies away.]
S - sorry, Y -
No, I'm sorry, Mina...I really am.
✖ [i give it i take it i come back for more]
And how does that make you feel?
[this room is dark. it looks like it's made of primarily dark, deep wood, with only a single window in the whole damn room which is…obscured.]
[by a tall figure in an even taller backed chair. despite the fact there's almost no light in the room, this figure is illuminated around the edges enough to see the rather leery expression he's giving as he leans across the desk.]
[there's a mug on the desk - a coffee mug with a lip stain of the dark liquid along the rim of the cup. it's alluring an pure white apart from that little stain.]
[she's not paying attention to this man. so he tries again.]
How does that make you feel, Mina.
[his tongue is long - long and thin, and if you listen really hard, there's a hissing sound when he speaks. it's like a snake tongue - flicking back and forth and speaking in volumes of intention that just isn't being spoken and is far too above the comprehension skills of a little girl]
[still she tries.]
I don't know.
"I don't know" is not an answer, Mina.
…I don't know.
[she shrugs, and there is the sound of hissing again, and then of rustling clothing as the brunette child messes with her skirts. there's a sigh, next, and the illuminated figure lifts a hand to rub across his wide forehead.]
Your teacher sent me here because you kicked another little girl. Is that true?
[she shakes her head.]
[there's a pen on his desk by the mug. it's shiny and gold and she wants it - to just hold it and maybe…]
Mina - don't lie to me.
[she shakes her head again, but shifts in her chair, scooting closer to the desk and leaning over the table top much like he was. her knees are pressed painfully against the desk's side, but she ignores it as the man across from her shifts.]
I'm not a liar.
[his hands move from under his hissing little chin. he does have a little chin - a big forehead and a little chin, and deep, deep eyes that are far too hard to make out. and not worth it.]
[the gold pen is closer to her hand now. it's big - a miniature sword when compared to the babyish, thin hands of a child. a little child, too.]
I'm not.
[his face takes up the whole screen. emotionless and dark and large and - gosh, everything's dark. the whole screen of your guide is dark. and there's that pen - and that hand - and]
[and lots of screaming. a little blood, too, but mostly screaming]
✖ [i bend it i break it i even the score]
You're disgusting.
[there's a long pause, and a self conscious giggle that just reeks of innocence and purity. too much so, really.]
I know.
☠ [i thank you for the hollywood ending]
[a sterile hospital room, fitted with a torturous looking chair and other such devices. but the most prominent is the silver scalpel protruding from her abdomen. it's moving with her stomach, glinting from the lights above.]
[and there's screaming. because she is a virgin this time around - a deadman virgin and it hurts, even more as the gloved hands come into view and rip the blade from her skin, only to return to the wound.]
[fingers are prying, and there's even more screaming.]
STOP! STOPPIT! Take. It. OUT!
[it's hard, but there's no crying. only screaming - angry grunts as the first hand slips under her skin. it's hot - burning - and the liquid slipping down the loosened, abused skin of her abdomen is closer to sweat than tears, and becomes blood the second it passes the slit with the hands.]
[a sickly sweet - aroused? - voice coos at her from beyond the hands]
There, there, Hummingbird. It's almost over, you know?
[but it's not. that is a placating statement and this horror is only just beginning when there's the sound of blades snipping together - like scissors - and something pink and fleshy and bloody and -]
[pulsating]
[- is ripped from within her.]
[one more scream. and it's tampered short, as brown eyes roll up into her skull and things go pretty black. and they stay that way for now…]
☠ [it feels like a kiss on the mouth]
I won't hurt you.
[the image of a faceless boy swims before your very eyes. he's thin - lanky.]
[shiny, almost, in another dark setting, and his lips - fuzzy and shifting - are set in a firm expression. he has a bandage on both his wrists, and he's wearing…some sort of costume. a stupid, costume boxers outfit with a 'DW' and a weird symbol on the bottom of his pants. he's leaning, and you can tell immediately he's wooded, favoring one side of his body. his weak -]
[puny]
[little]
[boy body.]
[and she whimpers.]
…Oh, Ganta…
[and - he's distracted. for a moment he looks up, fuzzy and hazily outlined still. and then -]
[he crumples. and blood falls everywhere.]
[static.]
[three minutes of static and then a garbled, sleepy, and agitated word that's half cut off. someone just woke up]
- uck.