Everyone Has To Be Gorgeous (Original Fic)
Everyone Has To Be Gorgeous
It's a screwed up world when we have a beast mocking the lovelies.
1/?
RATING: T (eventual)
CHARACTERS: Spence, Corina (all mine!!! :B)
CLAIMER: These are my characters, my locales, my writing and story, etc. Please do not use ANY of them without my permission first. KThnxBai.
NOTES: I don't even know if I'll ever finish this. I have some ideas for later and I've actually sketched out Corina and Spence, but I tend to procrastinate and move on to new ideas. I hope this doesn't happen with this idea because I really love writing Spence.
Everyone has to be perfect. I watch in horror as they would randomly drag people off the street, their feet lagging as they try to stay behind, tears running down their dirt caked faces. The guards kick them, their patent leather boots forcing their victims to keel over and be taken away. Giving up, the poor mindless souls let themselves disappear from our sight.
And that is how we are:
Beautiful, but at what price?
Everyone is the same. We always manage to hide our scars from the public, but deep down we were battered to a useless pulp or were the animals doing the battering. I knew this place was cruel, cold, but the treachery I witnessed clandestinely made me wretch and cry with disappointment and fear that would chill the very bottom of my spine, the shiver taking over as I pretend to spit in their direction, as if I really could. I've thought about this so many times that my brain is wracked with an inundation of an unexplained process that will wheedle itself in at the worst times. And WHAT is my thought process? Here it is:
It doesn't matter how sophisticated we look or how many compliments we receive. It's a lie, and we might try to deny it, to cover it up like the sick secret it is, but deep down, we're fucking cowards.
It was this way…this way that slowly began to eat away at me after…After that day I first saw the victims, imprinted on my mind for good. I'll try to forget it someday, I swear, but some tales must be committed and printed in a way oblivion can understand. I want to spread my message to the farthest reaches of this place; I want to mold it, change it under my grip. Revolution is the keyword here-
But what could I do?
I'm cooped up here. I can't show my face to these people. I'm not pretty, I'm not comely. I'm not normal-and that would make me a threat, the type of cancer that is dragged off the street everyday. Would I make this place worse or better? I don't know: I've never had the opportunity to contribute so far. I've been alone for as long as I remember.
…Well, not completely alone.
If it weren't for Corina, I'd be dead by now, but she's been a good person to me, my ghastly looks and all. She snuck me food and clothes. She kept me hidden for this long. She was the closest thing I had to a mother. I can't remember everything, but she said she and I had found each other on the street, destitute. I was trying to hide as usual when Corina spotted me. She said that she couldn't help but feel sorry for me, so she hid me away from the guards. We stuck it through and here we are, hidden in this abandoned apartment.
The walls look as if they could collapse any day now-you can see the concrete chipping away, showing what could have been insulation once. The windows are cracked, the spider web of lines tracing their way through the decrepit material. The floor isn't so fantastic either, but if this wasn't my home, I'll be damned. It's one of the only spots in the city where the guards wouldn't think to look on their inspection days.
Speaking of which, one is probably wondering why I am this way, why I'm so isolated from the rest of the city…the people. The matter is, I'm not a person. I don't even know exactly what I am-I'm not human. This city already hates those who aren't perfect looking, so how would they accept me, this hideous creature? These webbed hands cover this odd face each night, my tail in-between my legs.
Corina says I look like a platypus when I ask and demand, but I don't FEEL like one. I can walk like a regular person. I don't feel a need to leave this city-I never have. I wonder if there is something wrong with me…
Who the hell am I kidding? Of course there's something wrong with me. Just look at me-like Corina says-a fucking half-platypus. I don't fit in this puzzle: I am the piece that doesn't fit. They might be ugly on the inside, but on the outside, the denizens of this complex place are gorgeous:
Greek profiles, perfectly rounded eyes with lashes as long as their fingernails, cream complexions that pop from the drab brick buildings and elegance in abundance. Then there's me: that is not me. That will never be me. Not even getting dragged off by the city guard would fix me. Nothing could because I'm just broken.
There are times when I do watch people getting dragged off for the slightest flaw in their appearance, and I wish it were me. Corina snapped at me once when I said this around her, saying it was okay for me to be unique and that I shouldn't let them influence me. I guess she was right, but there are times I wish I could come out of these god forsaken apartments, be down there with everyone else.
Everyone else…They seem to be gathering around something-other people. I peer closer downward as I witness the worst thing that could possibly happen to me:
My claws tap against the glass as Corina gets dragged away by the guard. Another guard-the captain, maybe, because his uniform is adorned with gold stitching on the shoulders-is pointing towards the apartment…Not just any apartment. MY APARTMENT…
They are coming and one of them is taking Corina away! One of my neighbors is pointing up in my direction, the captain handing her a small bag of coins. The neighbor snatches them greedily, running off from Corina's protests and huddling in a corner, counting each piece. It's then I realize what has happened.
I'm no longer a secret.
I can see the guards organizing themselves-and some of them are coming this way.
My heart beats faster. I can feel the sweat beading through my muddy looking fur as I am forced to think on my feet. Their footsteps and yells are growing louder, closer to me-closer to the dark secret that has hidden in this place for so long…
Another group of guards is getting away. A gun is pointed at Corina's spine-I know her fleece poncho would never be enough to stop a bullet from ending her fragile life. I don't even have an idea whether at the moment she will live or the thread will be cut, severed for eternity.
I won't look back. I refuse to look back. I have to go after her. I can't just sit by and watch her being taken away. I'm not like everyone else-I'm not afraid to rescue what is important to me. I never want to be like them-I never have been and I don't ever want to start.
That's why I find myself on the rooftop now. Corina and her kidnappers aren't that far off from me. I'm leaping-for freedom, for life. The wind blows through my hair as I make it across the chasm between the buildings. I keep going, never looking down in the dark alleyways below, people screaming and shouting in a cacophony of desperation as they attempt to see what is running away from being made over.
I can hear the guards yelling at me from the rooftop of the apartment. I can tell they have spotted me-there are gasps, screams, expletives. They can't tell what I am, which is the way things should be. I am unique, different-not beautiful. Either way, nobody can stop me or stand in my way. I'll kill them if they try to stop me.
My thoughts are turned off from them. I ignore them for the first time for so many years. Is this what it's like to be alive? If it is, I never want to go to sleep again. I have so much to live for, I realize. I have a purpose:
Corina, I will catch up, I promise.
It's a screwed up world when we have a beast mocking the lovelies.
1/?
RATING: T (eventual)
CHARACTERS: Spence, Corina (all mine!!! :B)
CLAIMER: These are my characters, my locales, my writing and story, etc. Please do not use ANY of them without my permission first. KThnxBai.
NOTES: I don't even know if I'll ever finish this. I have some ideas for later and I've actually sketched out Corina and Spence, but I tend to procrastinate and move on to new ideas. I hope this doesn't happen with this idea because I really love writing Spence.
Everyone has to be perfect. I watch in horror as they would randomly drag people off the street, their feet lagging as they try to stay behind, tears running down their dirt caked faces. The guards kick them, their patent leather boots forcing their victims to keel over and be taken away. Giving up, the poor mindless souls let themselves disappear from our sight.
And that is how we are:
Beautiful, but at what price?
Everyone is the same. We always manage to hide our scars from the public, but deep down we were battered to a useless pulp or were the animals doing the battering. I knew this place was cruel, cold, but the treachery I witnessed clandestinely made me wretch and cry with disappointment and fear that would chill the very bottom of my spine, the shiver taking over as I pretend to spit in their direction, as if I really could. I've thought about this so many times that my brain is wracked with an inundation of an unexplained process that will wheedle itself in at the worst times. And WHAT is my thought process? Here it is:
It doesn't matter how sophisticated we look or how many compliments we receive. It's a lie, and we might try to deny it, to cover it up like the sick secret it is, but deep down, we're fucking cowards.
It was this way…this way that slowly began to eat away at me after…After that day I first saw the victims, imprinted on my mind for good. I'll try to forget it someday, I swear, but some tales must be committed and printed in a way oblivion can understand. I want to spread my message to the farthest reaches of this place; I want to mold it, change it under my grip. Revolution is the keyword here-
But what could I do?
I'm cooped up here. I can't show my face to these people. I'm not pretty, I'm not comely. I'm not normal-and that would make me a threat, the type of cancer that is dragged off the street everyday. Would I make this place worse or better? I don't know: I've never had the opportunity to contribute so far. I've been alone for as long as I remember.
…Well, not completely alone.
If it weren't for Corina, I'd be dead by now, but she's been a good person to me, my ghastly looks and all. She snuck me food and clothes. She kept me hidden for this long. She was the closest thing I had to a mother. I can't remember everything, but she said she and I had found each other on the street, destitute. I was trying to hide as usual when Corina spotted me. She said that she couldn't help but feel sorry for me, so she hid me away from the guards. We stuck it through and here we are, hidden in this abandoned apartment.
The walls look as if they could collapse any day now-you can see the concrete chipping away, showing what could have been insulation once. The windows are cracked, the spider web of lines tracing their way through the decrepit material. The floor isn't so fantastic either, but if this wasn't my home, I'll be damned. It's one of the only spots in the city where the guards wouldn't think to look on their inspection days.
Speaking of which, one is probably wondering why I am this way, why I'm so isolated from the rest of the city…the people. The matter is, I'm not a person. I don't even know exactly what I am-I'm not human. This city already hates those who aren't perfect looking, so how would they accept me, this hideous creature? These webbed hands cover this odd face each night, my tail in-between my legs.
Corina says I look like a platypus when I ask and demand, but I don't FEEL like one. I can walk like a regular person. I don't feel a need to leave this city-I never have. I wonder if there is something wrong with me…
Who the hell am I kidding? Of course there's something wrong with me. Just look at me-like Corina says-a fucking half-platypus. I don't fit in this puzzle: I am the piece that doesn't fit. They might be ugly on the inside, but on the outside, the denizens of this complex place are gorgeous:
Greek profiles, perfectly rounded eyes with lashes as long as their fingernails, cream complexions that pop from the drab brick buildings and elegance in abundance. Then there's me: that is not me. That will never be me. Not even getting dragged off by the city guard would fix me. Nothing could because I'm just broken.
There are times when I do watch people getting dragged off for the slightest flaw in their appearance, and I wish it were me. Corina snapped at me once when I said this around her, saying it was okay for me to be unique and that I shouldn't let them influence me. I guess she was right, but there are times I wish I could come out of these god forsaken apartments, be down there with everyone else.
Everyone else…They seem to be gathering around something-other people. I peer closer downward as I witness the worst thing that could possibly happen to me:
My claws tap against the glass as Corina gets dragged away by the guard. Another guard-the captain, maybe, because his uniform is adorned with gold stitching on the shoulders-is pointing towards the apartment…Not just any apartment. MY APARTMENT…
They are coming and one of them is taking Corina away! One of my neighbors is pointing up in my direction, the captain handing her a small bag of coins. The neighbor snatches them greedily, running off from Corina's protests and huddling in a corner, counting each piece. It's then I realize what has happened.
I'm no longer a secret.
I can see the guards organizing themselves-and some of them are coming this way.
My heart beats faster. I can feel the sweat beading through my muddy looking fur as I am forced to think on my feet. Their footsteps and yells are growing louder, closer to me-closer to the dark secret that has hidden in this place for so long…
Another group of guards is getting away. A gun is pointed at Corina's spine-I know her fleece poncho would never be enough to stop a bullet from ending her fragile life. I don't even have an idea whether at the moment she will live or the thread will be cut, severed for eternity.
I won't look back. I refuse to look back. I have to go after her. I can't just sit by and watch her being taken away. I'm not like everyone else-I'm not afraid to rescue what is important to me. I never want to be like them-I never have been and I don't ever want to start.
That's why I find myself on the rooftop now. Corina and her kidnappers aren't that far off from me. I'm leaping-for freedom, for life. The wind blows through my hair as I make it across the chasm between the buildings. I keep going, never looking down in the dark alleyways below, people screaming and shouting in a cacophony of desperation as they attempt to see what is running away from being made over.
I can hear the guards yelling at me from the rooftop of the apartment. I can tell they have spotted me-there are gasps, screams, expletives. They can't tell what I am, which is the way things should be. I am unique, different-not beautiful. Either way, nobody can stop me or stand in my way. I'll kill them if they try to stop me.
My thoughts are turned off from them. I ignore them for the first time for so many years. Is this what it's like to be alive? If it is, I never want to go to sleep again. I have so much to live for, I realize. I have a purpose:
Corina, I will catch up, I promise.