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Rated: E · Short Story · Dark · #2310379
Let your wildest imaginations lead you!
Playlist:
1. Rocking Around the Christmas Tree by Brenda Lee
2. Pride. By Kendrick Lamar
3. Family jewels by Marina and the diamonds.


(Number 1 of the playlist).
'Rocking around the Christmas tree' fogged above the clouds as we jollied down the spacewalks. Snowflakes on ice swayed as people shoved money down the ticket box to get a chance to coast. Frozen tongues slipped locals by Times Square Fountains. My eyes widen from the enthusiastic clouds dancing above us. As I find a spot by the fountain's benches, I notice sparkies roaring at the tiny critters who want in on the fun. By the suffering in their voices, the wind sways me to opportunities.

In the palm of my hand, it wandered wistfully by this soft surface, allowing me to feel it’s hardcover. Its shield protects it from frigid sparkles cast upon it. Its arched abdomen is divided into rigid bow-like sections. Its numerous legs are pitifully thin compared to the other more remarkable aspects of this world. I gently rub its antennas, signalling my outcome. Its tiny eyes splurt with fear as it shakes from this pattern.

Returning to my seat, I grab a couple of pinecones. As my excitement became my consequence, I sorted out a small hut for it. Feeling proud of myself, I glare at its shaking bones, soon to decompose of the much heat it kept in from fear. My Glass heart broke to pieces that I chew on; my glue was to search for tightness. 'Mama's Rocks' lit up trees into their chloroplast pastel colours. I stand in front of it, picking up the pieces to find the solution to all problems—a sign to show kindness despite fear and disgust.

"Hello to Mama's Rocks!" The server thrillingly welcomed the customers. With its fine dining, sweet cinnamon wiggled my nose, the peppermint flared my nostrils, and the calming season custered me into the delicious pastry. The light has been brought down to the blood and shatters.

I was running with the power in my hand out of the place and onto the fallen trees of York to my knight. I placed the warm hot chocolate down, and it instantly crawled in. We both swam in the warm waters of heat and glow. The wind kisses us passionately for the reward of patience. The clocks tick as the coco heals my heart whole. Bringing the cup to my lips, I swallow slowly, gazing at its features, its fluttering wings, wet crooking back, and a trap of pain and guilt.

(Number 2 of the playlist).
Through this spiritual holiday, my heart melts as it reaches through the cracks of the streets. Through a past, there's a future, and it starts now.

"Thank you for this drink," I drifted off to fantasy land, frightened by the sudden buzzing as it irritated my ears. Confusion was displaced between my brows. I look around slowly, staring at the residents who walk by, all jolly and in love.

"Down here." I look down, jaw entering the earth's core, eyes popping out of the socket.

Have I gotten insane? The light inside of me burns up with horror. Hairs stick up all around my body; my cheeks heat up as I feel my inner demons eat my flesh, and goosebumps run down my spine as they alert me back to reality.

"You brought me a cup of cocoa, and I thank you for that, but...why would you do that?"
Is the devil on break to come and surprise us?
"You can talk...YOU CAN TALK!!"'

The devil was on his break shift, and now, I had become the puppet of his show. The strings on my back were glued in place. Untearable. The strings in my heart pump, pump, and pump faster.

"Have I lost my mind? Has the world ended? Why are you talking? ARE YOU EVEN REAL?!" I question as the devil continues its final verse," How can you talk? Do you have a device somewhere?" I scan its fragile body, shaken from my sudden change of mood.

"It's all in your head." Its breath dipped into the evaporating cup.

I laugh softly, but before I can speak, "What is your story?" The mirror reflected off the incredible energy and brought out the true darkness. His voice had become more profound, colder, more of seeking revenge.

But what did I do to be the victim of the sweetness?

My eyes plaster on my cup. I have lost my delusions of lies and lies and lies.

(Number 3 of the playlist).
"I just didn't have the greatest past, but I didn't let that affect me, and I just left it all behind to come here," I stare at the street as my lips curl up into a soft smile. I return my eyes to my cup and search for the words in this substantial void, "Now, I have become my better self."

I had originally been raised and birthed in the countryside of the U.S. My parents weren't in a great state, as my father abandoned us. He had left us to rot in the valleys of what no one should experience. Throughout our complaints, she had worked day and night. Providing so much for me, and I had felt dearly sorry. As I got older, I wanted to make things better. For her, I would reck this world. I would start with my father, but as the luck spin turned sidewards. Death was coming for me next.

My alcoholic father had murdered my mother. With my plan ruined, I suck up all these mistakes as my scars, caressing them under the cold shower. Now, I live by the dirty streets of this city, not allowing regret and fear to show up to my sight again.

Even with a tragic past, this lie hurt like a dagger to the heart. Even if it was some roach, my heart had reached my throat, and I was no longer pumping for this world. Turn after turning in this wheel, my luck brought me to my knees for my execution of disappointment.

Cackles bring my soul back to my skin, relieving all the weight on my shoulders, and then on, as the laughter continued, more weights increased as I felt the dark corners of York crawl to me and pull my body gradually, bitterly, hastily.

"Oh, you got me there, Fatma."
How does it know my name?! I had not once introduced myself as it felt nothing special to explain my role here.
"What do you mean? I just explained my past in the form, which doesn't need much explanation for your small head."
"You think such a lie I'd believe? You think too lowly of me. I mean, look at yourself. The cheap clothes, the eye bags, the fake smiles, it is undeniable!!"

"With your silly father murdering women here and there, he wanted to make your mother the last meat to his collection—a glimpse of his brand to sell. Leaving you alive, he did want to see you shine, yet you failed him. With this lifestyle now, you have become depressed due to your past. You had eaten your past as a meal that should've been taken. You have become Alice, of which she drank a bottle to grow yet a cookie to shrink. You have reduced the expectations in your life, and God, you are so desperate. It is hilarious to think about it. Heck! Even look at it. Your dad was right, you know? You are nothing but a silly maggot, sticking your head up your ass for nothing to find as you live in regret. You no longer fear it, but you have taken the whole pill jar."

Tears flood my eyelids. I can no longer see what is around my angles. The dagger has finally been pushed in whole, and I feel my heart bleed. Reaching to my eyes with my fingers, I let those droplets fall into my empty cup. Hearing its tapping brings me back to this horror. It smiles disgustingly. It saw me as fall and command a death. A case in which the light I carried now has become the enemy. It was not a spell to heal but a spell to fool.

Its eyes lit up as its pupils dilated whole, covering the white surface from my expression.

It admits, "You asked me how I became this," he points at himself, "It was all an experiment, and me, as a man, I had become a roach. Want in on the secret?"

"I am your father."
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