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Fellas, Imagine, if you will, a space inside you ready to house a human infant. Think about it. Fairly big, yes.
It was a dark,dark night, full of velvety black inky nothingness wrapping your icy limbs and senses in a sinister death shroud.
The TV flickers on with a buzz as you awake. You find yourself strapped into a leather chair in what seems to be a metal room.
(part two of the prologue, the rest of the story to come soon!) Viktoria looked just like me. We had the same dark blonde hair and the same keen, green eyes.
The pain of its teeth sinking into my wrist is nothing compared to the pain of its venom running through my veins, poisoning my bloodstream.
I stared at my reflection and loved what stared back. Perfect blonde hair, long and straight. Blue eyes, sparkly and fun, full Pink lips, high cheek bones and of course the perfect figure.
It's been almost a month since I woke up. Can't remember anything before then. There's twenty of us in this room, barely enough room for us to stand in.
Oh, hell. This can't be happening. There's sand on the floor, and that may not sound like much but where there's sand, there's a sandman. And if there's a Sandman... We're all dead.
3rd January 1995 I wake up to find myself tied to a snow White bed. The width smaller than a normal single bed but big enough to hold a young adult like me. Around me I find medical equipment.
Sara ran, her chest had started to get painful from the lack of oxygen. Why did the boys at school have to be so cruel. What had she done to them.
Two months later. Nothing had happened to me recently worth recording. I'm Amber, I'm an orphan, I hate my life.
I screamed. I fell to my knees in agony, a white burning pain distorted and deteriorated my vision. I fell to the floor, ripping the broach from my body.
*Piss* It stunk but I was drunk and I needed to piss. The toilet door banged shut behind me and the roar of the White Lion was muzzled.
I look in the mirror and I see a toad. I don't want to but there it is. A pale, hairy toad with a miserable look on its face.
Over the last few days, I have been contemplating the process of vomiting, in-between vomiting as part of the most violent bout of V&D I have ever had the misfortune to be involved in.
I woke up and sluggishly slid from bed; did my morning routine of shower, makeup and hair. Popped the television on and made my breakfast. As I ate, I was distantly aware of the news.
Roger was consuming a hamburger for dinner when he heard on the evening news that much of the beef sold in supermarkets was supplemented by meat byproducts sterilized by ammonia, making an additive...
Hansel eats like a good little boy, shoving fist fulls into his mouth every second. I smile, obviously delighted and make him some more food.
They cut you open and you fall apart obediently, split in two, a red sash down your speckled white skin. You are an animal now, not a child; a frog or a cow's eye, dead and to be dissected.
You always smelled of coffee and orange peels, a home I pretended to remember for your sake. Our hands shook, your back trembling like crumbling marble when I kissed where the cracks split your skin.
-"Hello grandma how are you today. I hope you'll have a good stay." -"My dear, I am so tiresome. But look at you. You are so handsome. I say without a snare.
They mouth love's language. Gnash The thirteen teeth Your lean jaws grin with. Lash Your itch and quailing, nude greed of the flesh.