#Fadhion doll | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

goldentail1 · 5 years ago

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You take a moment to recollect yourself as the words finally click. Your gaze glides over to the reflection of you on the car's windshield. It reveals...you. Same eyes, same hair, and the same clothes you put on this morning. It was chilly out, so you went with what you could on this day, especially since you havent been out of the house in a while.

Your eyes then cast over onto the speaker, who was standing nearby. Her face is also on the reflection, and she was lovely. Her skin was dark and her hair was black, braided into tight cornrows that stretched down her back. She wore a shirt and a plaid jacket with mittens. Jeans that were slightly scuffed, paired with black heeled boots. She could be a model of some sort.

Her eyes look over her figure once more in the reflection, but her words were about you. Did she not like the way you looked today? You tried to let out a reason to ask what she meant to say, as if your mind was still denying that her comment wasn't just to herself. Your mouth grows dry as you grip your hands into a fist inside your jacket pockets. And for a moment, you say nothing, as a slow, burning feeling starts to crawl up your throat.

Her eyes met yours in the reflection, and she changed besides you, but the reflection stayed the same. Her face went from observant to a sneer, as if amused by the rising anger. Though she was pretty, her comment left a sting upon yout looks. Eventually, her reflection turns directly towards you.

Even though you don't look at her directly, you knew what was coming next. The denial at rest, you watch as the windshield begin to move closer and surround your reflection with void speckles in the corners of your vision.

Your sight fades out to black for a moment as you blink. Eventually, you see yourself, lying down on a stretcher. Red and blue are the strobe lights that haze your vision. You tense and look at the girl standing besides you on the stretcher, a gentle hand atop of your chest, as if tucking you in. She hadn't changed much in appearence, except the sneer was replaced eith a somber smile. As you focus, your vision starts to blot out again.

You are standing near a casket with your name on it. Engraved, it should hsve your body lying in it...but it doesn't. Instead, it has an empty interior that looks mildly cozy in the emptier void. Then, the clicking sound of heeled footsteps tell of her arrival. You look up from the casket, and she smiles towards you. A single hand gestures down your body, from your head to toes. A small rim of light travels as she did this, and replaced your outfit with something more...comforting. It feels like the softest thing in the world, and honestly, you'd want nothing more than to rest in your plsce now.

"It's a shame, really." She said, "How you kept using this cycle as a meand to avoid death. And in the end...you ran out of things to say. For the last 32 times, you've ran out."

You could have asked a wuestion. You font remember what she was talking about, and yet, it deels familiar, as if this was all a part of a dance. You would ask her once you end up in your next repeat. You would wish to be changed into clothes she thought looked good. You would do anything to appease her entitely.

But in the end, you now know you are facing Death. And she cannot bring you back with tactics of fantasy, time warming, science, or anything. The car hit you dead on from impact, and as soon as the connection was made, there was no choice but to accept the pain given. Your antics were up, and for the past that is much over 32 times, you've been stuck on what to say. How to make your life mean something when it didn't seem to mean anything at the moment.

"Would you like to try again?" She asked, and extended her hand forward.

Your hand was skeletal as you raised it to greet hers. You then shake your head no, as if not trusting your voice. For you know that you would agree. And you would become her fadhion doll for the day until you die. And when you can escape that, you could, theoretically, be free.

But no matter what route you take, no matter how selfish or selfless you are, no matter what path you chose, you would always meet this woman who would tell you that you are a tragedy. She will always change. Sometimes its a they. Sometimes it's a he. Death has no comprehensible form, and she uses the one thst matches her personslity that day. But when you die, it is hard to embrace something that you are naturally fearing. So you both play a cycle of avoidance, on how quick can she catch you, before the car turns up and hits you on the 12th street across the road, at exactly around 8:37 AM.

It was a warm and chilly morning as the sun began to peak behind the clouds. The cafe is a wonderfully warm and smooth eithin this morning. And you were somewhat late for work. It was terribly busy, and you were bouncing your leg as you wanted to get your cup of coffee that you've already ordered to your perfection. Your name is called, and you picked it up. It is still warm.

You turn around, and begin to walk out of the door, but you see this individual with saddened eyes, looking solemly whilist they sat on a nearby bench. Their gaze met yours. Her skin was dark and her hair was black, braided into tight cornrows that stretched down her back. She wore a shirt and a plaid jacket with mittens. Jeans that were slightly scuffed, paired with black heeled boots. She could be a model of some sort.

You approach her, and she smiled politely to you. "Hi...I'm sorry, I just...I needed to tell you something important." She spoke softly. There was a hint of a sob in her voice. So you sat down and listened to her. She spoke to you about her problem, but none of it you could comprehend. Anything she said just passed the time on the clock, and you looked to your watch. 8:35. You are already late.

Befote you could go, she held your arm gently and gave it a hit of a squeeze. It pumped you full of life you forgot you had, for some reason. "I just...I need to thank you for listening to me. Is...is there anything I can do for you?"

For a moment, she pauses to let you think. As your brain racks up a reasonable favor she could gift back, she then offered, "I'm sorry for keeping you. You must be late fot something, so I shouldn't keep you." She said, and nodding numbly, you wished to get off. You wished to run and scream and get away, as your body is approaching its final moments when you mouth out the words in your head about any song to distract you from the dread that follows. "I'll help you across." 8:36.

Finishing your cup of coffee, you start to move across this road, as you are walking with your old friend. She was very pretty, and for some reason, you think that you knew her. You pause and take a look at her in the middle of the road, and her smile eas gentle and patient. "Come on, we can't keep standing here."

But you can. You can just keep going but instead you choose to stare at Death in the eyes. Finally, your jaw moves, and your tongue is loosened from the hold of fear. You look to her beautiful face that never had many festures, but oh she was gorgeous. Simple and complex st the same time, as every fiber of being exists all at once to just folloe and dance in her eyes like starlight.

Your heart races for a moment, and your lips part ad you lean into the embrace of the thing you have feared the most. "Just say it," she whispers into your ear soothingly, like a lover to her other. "I know you want to."

The sound of tires screeching brought the words out into the cacophony of metald clashing together, metallic stars streaking the early morning sun as commets raced about them. Her grip was steel and her voice was the hammer. And you were the sculpture, the seord. The project of accomplishment, as the words race out of your body, and carries through the air.

And then, once the words were said, she turned you to the frozen car, stuck in time and place. Her smile looked upon both of your reflections as they both smile, with a sense of sadness.

"Now that's what I call a tragedy."

“Now that’s what I call a tragedy,” she whispers, and it takes you a moment to realize that she is talking about you.

#writers #writing prompt #writeblr #writing #short story #story #hidden meanings #i think I'll call this one 'death's word'#because like #there is symbolism in here #it indicates the poetic cycle of change and how each one will kill off an old you #and basically the word represents acceptance #and for each time you dont say it #you grow more silent #until it breaks into an epic of noises #a symphony of cries of attention that make you love the new you or hate it #and once is said and done #your next change will start off when you hardly remember your last #and Death can be literal or metaphorical #she had no true form #change is fluid and so is dying #it is messy and unclean and always goes off at the wrong time #but in the end #you just take a towl and clean it up and go on tk your next body while lying your past self into a grave that will forever be in your memory

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