Meep!

Oct. 11th, 2003 11:05 pm
puddlesofun: (lights)
I've just submitted a story to gothic.net. I'm scared of rejection. On the other hand, if it's accepted, I'll be a published author. Woot!
puddlesofun: (lights)
Prologue

There is a house near the edge of a small town
inside, a man walks up the stairs
in a pair of old battered shoes
calling his daughter's name, impatient

His face is weathered.
He is a tough man and he works hard
It frustrates him when other people, his daughter included,
fail to recognise that this is what life is made of

Hardship.
But he loves his daughter
He opens the door to her room
why does she never answer?

There, in front of him
black doc martin boots swinging side to side
creaking rope
all the hardness in his face collapses

The Day

The sun is rising in the sky over the town
it is still early. There are a few tiny white clouds in the sky
It will be a beautiful day, if you are not a farmer.
most of the people in this town are farmers

The sun slips between curtains and assaults the face
of a sixteen year old boy waking up in his single bed
his hair is dyed black and blue
Across from his bed, blu tacked to the wall and in a cheap frame on his desk:

Are dozens of photos of him and the girl together
in all of them they are wearing gothic clothes and makeup
Friends, all gothed up
they both look happy, after a sixteen year old fashion

(in a sixteen year old sort of way)

Her hair is many colours in the photos
but mostly it is black
He drags himself from from his bed as if he is weighted down
Tries to avoid looking at the photos

In the morgue, her body is lain down upon the slab
she is still wearing
her boots; her piercings; her netting
her makeup; her velvet skirt

her boots are taken off and placed side by side.
they carefully cut off all of her clothes with scissors
until she is naked

He eats his cornflakes, oblivious
as his family rush around the house
lost in himself
his mother puts a rented suit over the seat next to him

In the morgue, her piercings are taken out
and placed in a small tray
her makeup is removed and her body washed
her dark nail polish removed

In the house, he is standing in the hallway arguing with his mother
his father takes command and sends him to his room
with the suit

In the morgue, gloved hands are carefully dying her hair back
to its original blond
like her parents wanted

He follows his family out of the house
His father in an old business suit;
his mother in a brown formal dress
(she had no black)

and his little sister in pigtails,
just old enough to know that she shouldn't be happy
even with her new dress, but maybe too young
to really understand the loss

He closes the door behind him
he is wearing the suit now
and they all pile into the old ford
without speaking

He knows that something
is not right, shouldn't be like this
when they stop at the intersection
he jumps out and runs away

In the morgue, she is being dressed in "nice" conservative clothes
so she looks just like her parents would like
they are putting on special make up
to make it look like she is alive
It doesn't work

The ford pulls up outside the old sandstone church
one short
people mill around outside of the building
not sure of themselves

the sun casts sharp shadows
puts everything in relief
the priest signals
and the crowd files in out of the heat

The boy is back in his house, in his room
standing still panicking. what now?
he locks his gaze with her image in a photo
and begins to undo his tie

In the main street of town, a group of local boys
hang about outside the chippies, joking around
but they stop to stare silently as someone walks past,
eyeshadowed eyes fixed ahead

high black boots and a heavy black trench coat
in the middle of summer
Nine Inch Nails T shirt, an ankh and a spiked collar around his neck
All gothed up

It is cool and it is dark and it echoes
although it is almost silent
In the church the priest is speaking
and her father, the hard man, is crying

He walks in halfway through the service
strides right up the middle aisle while the priest talks

while people watch
he never thought he could do this
but it's easy
he gets to the open casket

sees her
sees her dull blond hair
sees her cardigan
sees what they've done to her

he stops, unbelieving
he backs away
he can't look, wishes he hadn't seen
he has to leave

a walk becomes a run
back down the middle of the church
the determination falls away from his face
leaving only anger and sorrow and tears and hurt

not the sort of hurt that you can write songs and poems about
The type of hurt that you just want to go away
and you're afraid that it never will

He flees into the sunlight

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