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wailsoftragedy · 3 years ago

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Nꮻ Ꮯꮋꮜꭱꮯꮋ Ꮖɴ Ꭲꮋꭼ Ꮃꮖꮮꭰ.

Paris.

Age: 18.

Occupation: Hell — Wicked ones — home.

Like a moth attracted to the flame. Like the devil, attracted to the ashes of sinners. Juliet sauntered forward. A bloody mess. Hands, shirt, face, m o u t h — scattered with ichor. Stained with the blood of her victim. Her first victim. A stranger. A passer-by. Right? Her steps robotic. Uncalculated. Like an animal simply driven by their instincts and hunting to eat. Hunting to survive. At least that’s what it seemed like. If you look closely, there was no life in her hazel hues. Almost as if the real Juliet wasn’t even there anymore and a shell of whom she was once was the only thing left from her. Mere flesh on skin and bones. A skeleton holding the host of whom was once an angel. Someone who’d never hurt not even a goddamn fly. Her victim, disheveled. Face almost unacknowledged. Nose smashed and eyes almost shut with swelling. Her arms, with the flesh of one shoulder hung out almost as if a wild animal had dug their claws and ripped a piece out — both are wrapped with what energy they have left around her guts almost as if she's holding them in. She walks like a scarecrow more than a human , all lop-sided at that. Bloody spit drooled from her slack jaws. Her face still bears congealed blood and her clothes are an utter mess. Knees wobbled and just as she tried to take one more step forward, she stupidly used that last straw of energy to turn around and face an inhumane Juliet ; ultimately falling back with a thud. Her lungs struggling to allow oxygen in and every fucking inhale was a cry of mercy to stay alive the more Juliet inched closer. Then she tries to say her name, cracked blood oozing lips failing at the very first syllable. “Ju. .”

There it was. The ending. The grand finale.

Juliet drops down on her knees right by this stranger whom seemingly knew her name, knew everything about her. Then suddenly, Juliet’s already stained fingers dug into the still freshly torn apart flesh of this stranger’s shoulder. Not to help stop the bleeding but to worsen the situation even more. Raw screams left the pits of the victim’s throat and rumbled out into the dark atmosphere. The moon their only witness. Upon capturing the floppy skin in lithe fingers’ iron grip —— Juliet ripped it back. Skinning, ridding that shoulder of its cover and leaving the woman squirming. Kicking and crying out for help. The victim held her hand to cup the distorted shoulder as if that would fucking help, yet no matter the pressure she applied — the blood had still gushed between her fingers and oozed under her hand. It spread into her rain-damp t-shirt, the bright red quickly darkening, taking on a brownish hue. Those moments she spent pleading for Juliet to look at her, to wake up, to remember her, she felt the very fluid of her life drain away over Juliet’s cold deadly hands, she felt nothing at all. Time itself had become irrelevant; the seconds could have been hours, or hours mere seconds. In that suspended moment Julie was the eye of her storm and no force could stop her. There's a burning inside of her, a deep gnawing rage that wants to be let out and burn everything in its way. It feeds itself on every cut and bruise she gains, on every harsh comment and disdainful eye from her father, on every inch her victim fades away in submissive fear. The fire grows inside of her second by second, trapped inside her chest, beating against her ribcage like a bird struggling towards the sky, until it grows into an inferno that burns everything in its path. As she stared down the slob of meat throbbing with that hot blood held between her hands, she could sense the ever present thrum spark inside her, like a monster begging to be let out. It's a fire raging inside of her that cannot be tamed, can barely be controlled. The scene before her filled her mouth with drool, she was mesmerized. Itching for a taste. And the screams, no — howls of agony of her victim were like meaningless useless elevator music. Drowning in the background beneath aching desires. Then? A taste. Pearly whites, pearly razor-sharp canines sunk into the piece of meat while nostrils wildly inhaled the heavy scent of metallic tasty death. Yanking back a piece, moans of pleasure and twisted joy left her mouth evidently at each taste. Each bite. Oozing crimson soaking her chin once again and streaming down her neck.

Human Juliet dies in a blaze of red and gold, in a fire she sets herself, that transforms a once beautiful mansion into a pile of ash, and takes the lives of everyone she loves and hates, including herself, in one fell swoop.

Monsterous Juliet is born in a blaze of red and gold, in a wildfire raging on a hot summer day, in a raging tempest made by mother Nature herself, turning trees of green into blackened stumps..

——————— Later that day. ———————

"Pain is the lot of life," Her abductor, her father chirped her way, watching as she impassively groped for her cutting knife while hot tears streamed down from her lifeless sockets, his own knife and fork were held loosely as he gestured with one of them, "You must accept it, to eagerly endure agony for your master."

"For y o u," Bitterness tainted each syllable, small fingers wrapping around the hilt of the blade. Breath short and wet ; the petite girl straightened up her seated posture, gripping the "𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐧" with both hands as she turned in the direction of her creator’s voice. There. Sitting on the head of the dining table. "Yes. For my will is all, and you — were born into it..” his voice came out demanding, Rumbling. “Now. MANGER. ( EAT). You prepared us this meat after all. .” A cheshire - like grin stretched across his thin lips once revealing the unspoken truth.

But wait -- she did . . ? She was in the kitchen, but anything before that? A blackout. Last thing she remembers was her sister and father arguing in the living room. Yet after that? Nothing... darkness. A gap in her memory. Utter confusion plastering her gentle features, Juliet sat there. Barely flinching at the loud shout, an abusive voice she was so used to. Glaring down at the rare steak staring back at her. The meat was so uncooked — so ALIVE, that she swore when poked ; it would simply come back to life and spew out with profanities for being set on a plate. Shaky fingers were wrapped so tightly around the cutlery to the point where her knuckles had shifted into a whiter shade of pale. Swallowing thickly the huge lump which had formed in her throat ; she forced her head to turn once again with that ounce of courage to meet her father’s ice-cold gaze. “ . . I’m a vegetarian and you know this. .” Slamming his cutlery down on the table, nostrils flaring like a frustrated bull — her father launched from his wooden chair and stomped towards her. Juliet cowered back in her seat, gripping the knife tightly with hues squeezing shut as she braced herself for yet another night of endless torture. Suddenly, she heard the meat before her on the table being torn so clearly, each ligment, every musle tissue. It played gothically horrid symphonies through her eardrums. Then, a calloused hand of his dug its brutal fingers through the back of her caramel shaded tresses. Yanking her head back to where her full visage became exposed to him.

His other hand forcefully dragged her mouth open despite rooting her jaw tightly down upon gritted teeth. One swift movement and the meat was shoved right into her mouth then both hands slammed her jaw shut. One pressing to the crown of her head and another underneath her chin. “CHEW ! Chew you weakling..” He barked. Speaking those words so casually, aware of the fear they bring. He spoke them to control her brain and body, and they do. Why else would she follow all these demands. Right? Why else . .

He says he wants her spirit to soar, to rise, to become as the eagle flies after her very first taste of another soul... yet he causes these adrenaline surges over and over that cut her wings until they bleed. This adrenaline from fear is her invisible shackles, it is the poison in her veins and it is the whip in his hand..

The seconds of delay in her reaction earned her a knife. Her knife being jerked out of her fingers and jabbed right into her other hand lain across the table. Forehead bashed forward into the table, so she’d suppress the roar of pain aching to escape from a trembling throat. To no vain, it does. Wails leave her, hot tears burn her cheeks. In her weeping there is truth, a story of pain told in tears. Shoes thumping against the wooden floorboards almost rhythmically beneath her and a free palm curled into a tight fist clashes down onto the table as her own blood oozed to stain the table’s white sheet. Chin wobbling as she tries to chew. Stomach churning. Turning. Performing flips of nausea. Gags. Forced chewing. Chew chew. Fucking chew Juliet. Swallow.

Mercilessly, he yanked the knife out and tossed it across the hard surface arrogantly. Ignoring the fact that he was destroying his daughter so effortlessly. Watching her crumble right before her, he caresses the back of her locks ever so tenderly. As soft as a mother’s touch. “Good girl . . Bien.. bien..” Praising in that wicked smile of his, he trotted back to his seat and calmly sat down. Knife and fork held once again so he’d cut himself a piece of that . . stranger. Leaving Juliet a ball of tears and blood curled on that chair of hers, he hummed out casually in a quizzical mannerism.

“Say . . have you seen your 𝖘𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 . .?”

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wailsoftragedy · 3 years ago

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𝑴𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝑰𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑵𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕.

She’s so cold. It is the type of coldness that reaches into her bones, as if her heart were a door left wide open to the icy wind, slamming only to open again. The sky is rolling blanket of cloud the colour of wet ash, and the ground its dank reflection. Every step forward is a prayer for mercy. For salvation. Her body was aching until she pushed through it and found every inch of herself numb. She stumbles along; the snow well past her knees in some place. In those spots, she tries to crawl, soaking her flimsy shirt and turning her porcelain skin bright red. Goodness knows she tries to count in her head how long she’s been walking, wonders if she can make it back to the orphanage. They would beat her senseless, surely. They would punish her until she was bedridden for leaving. Juliet weighs the options in her head; freeze to death, starve to death, or try to make it back to the orphanage and potentially be beaten to death. The wind howls whilst she tries to huddle against a tree until it stops; the cold stinging her bright mocha hues and freezing her once salty ; warm tears to her cheeks. It's only leaning against the tree that she finally feels the weakness of her body. It would be so simple to slide down the rough bark and shut her eyes. Her stomach twists from emptiness and she opens her mouth to fucking let out a raw scream to the sky but only a rush of air leaves her chest. The young girl could not stand anymore, and her knees wobble until her legs give out. The snow catches her gently like a white blanket. She blinks, endeavouring to admire the last scene she assumed she would ever see. But that scene was nothing to come but in a horrid sense.

───── 𝘍𝘓𝘈𝘚𝘏𝘉𝘈𝘊𝘒. ─────

Sitting in her room, it was a night to remember. Not in a good sense no, but the five year old simply could not puzzle together what she had seen that night. A game of cars and dolls being toyed with between petite palms, Juliet was mouthing out the ‘innocent’ scenario of a beautiful barbie blonde doll, sauntering down the streets before a car revved up its an engine and drove over her. She remembers how she played that out. Barbie held with one hand, car in the other —— bashing over the doll’s body rapidly. Once, twice, thrice. Mesmerized by simply imagining just how the doll’s body lain there limb. Unmoving — and suddenly? she made it spring back to life then launched ; attacking the “person” driving the car. Juliet remembers the noise effects she made. Gurgling. Growling. Chaotic laughing once that person whom drove over her was “torn” apart. Car flinging across the ground. Destroyed. And abruptly, a loud thud echoed outside of her room. Her little game froze, her head whipped to observe the closed door mindlessly like a tiny confused WILD animal. Shuffling off the ground, with the support of her little hands and knees —— Juliet slowly walked for the door and lifted her small self up to the peak of her toes. Small fingers coiled around the handle, twisting it until the door opened slowly. Peeking her head out first, nothing was seen down the dark hallway of her home but the noises? Animalistic. Like a tiger feasting on a lamb. Boldly, the curious young Juliet began descending down the hallway until she froze at the end of it upon witnessing what she saw. Her father hovering over her mother. Her mother swimming in the pool of her own blood and her father’s arms. Hands. Fingers digging into her ichor oozing wounds. Gnarling, grappling, yanking the meat between blunt razors of his until it tore apart from her body. Feasting on her meat like a gourmet dinner. Slobbering on the blood staining his fingers, then dipping his face right back in for more. Horrible of all was that her mother’s eyes were still shot wide open, almost as if she has died in horror. Body jerking with every snap of his teeth. And Juliet? She stood there. Not crying. Not weeping, not even screaming for help. Merely observing as if she was in a trance. With her head slightly tipped to the side. Her mouth even watering, tongue darting out to lick at her lips in anticipation and before she could take one step forward —- her father’s head whipped around to lock gazes with his daughter. His eyes, not the normal oceanic blues, but a swirled nexus of purple and red. Veins expanded beneath those monstrous eyes of his and blood streaming down the side of his chin, drip-dropped to the ground. His breath shallow and his body rose into a towering stance. Slow dangerous steps were taken towards his little baby girl and then..

───── END OF 𝘍𝘓𝘈𝘚𝘏𝘉𝘈𝘊𝘒. ─────

A loud breath was taken in to fill her lungs as if she had almost drowned, coughing out blood to stain the snow beneath her. Body doubled over as the consciousness seeped back into her frail body. And the only words she could remember from her father were.. This is you, me. And this is you. We are scared, terrified. Lurking in the shadows. THIS is why we are monsters.

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