This is a profound statement that can only express something of the truth in its words. They may appear harsh to those that think they have found their partners, their friends, their family, however, to those that have not been blessed with such fortunes, the severity of these words is something that will strike close to the heart as there is nothing but truth in such words. Loneliness, this is something that everyone fears in their lives, something that so many people attempt to disguise with masks of merriment and ecstasy when in fact in their hearts they are aching and starting to detach themselves from a reality that just doesn’t give a crap about them. Let’s face it; the world has too many people for all to be cared for...
I have been given nothing but love and encouragement from my parents. Coming from a sheltered home where life wasn’t really experienced to the fullest, my first steps into university away from home were the biggest I’ve ever had to take. Being away from home brought the concept of loneliness firing up into my soul; I was alone here. I knew no one, knew nothing of the traditions. However, things were soon made clear as time progressed and I fitted myself in with a group of friends that I feel I should never have abandoned in the later months. It was with them that I never felt such a strong desire to cling onto someone; it was with them that I learned to be myself. However, things change as soon as months slip by; I found myself depending on the weekly “hook up” in order to tell me that I fitted in with the rest of society and their views of a pretty girl. I’ve never had much self confidence in all honesty, and it was the fact that so many guys wanted to be with me, in a sexual manner, that caused me to feel this elated sense of confidence. However, no matter how many guys I have kissed, it never once dulled the lonely feeling that ripped through my insides. Those few that I thought could quench my undying thirst for that special someone seemed to only prove that every single guy was the same, and that they all just wanted one thing. I have never felt so abused, so used in life.
Watching the new couples form as this learning year kicks into full swing is something that causing my heart to both swell with warmth, however, it also causes it to shatter in a silent heartbreak, a silent scream of agony as I could wish for nothing more than that to happen to me; but as I have said, loneliness seems to be my loving curse. It never leaves me; it’s like a sore, sweltering rash that plagues the skin as a fungal infection.
Countless times I have been told that “I’m a beautiful girl” and that any guy would be lucky to call me his girlfriend. I wish I could believe that. Previous encounters with the opposite gender have made me feel absolutely despondent. I can really kill myself for developing these stupid high school crushes on guys that do not feel the same way about me, and thus, constantly suffer with the aching of a heart that just wants something more than a night with someone. I would do anything to have that in my life. I would do anything to have a guy that I have really liked take a step away from the ridiculous conformity that all men seem to suffer with, and just be the one that is different, that changes my view of the idiotic male gender. Honestly, mixed emotions are being flown about the place right now as I am filled not only with sadness and regret, but also a boiling sensation of anger and resentment. Is this all normal? Does every girl experience this? Or is it just the unlucky few that have to be somewhat different to the majority of the female population of this Godforsaken planet? If one looks at it this way, how many girls have committed suicide because of partners of a broken relationship, or because of some asshole of some man in their life? They’re all the same. They only want one thing in life. They’re all the same, and I don’t think there is a single soul out there that could ever make me change my mind on this very fact.
Why is it that I harbour such resentment, such fiery rage and such passionate anguish for these people that we can’t seem to live without? Well, this can all be said to stem from the multiple experiences that I have had since my arrival at this university. More importantly, it is a figure, a person, a guy that made me believe, for a night, that the male gender was not all the same, horny little buggers. He made me believe that there were a few out there with a heart of gold, a bubbly personality that just hated seeing depression and anger, that the world was not based on the hypocrisy, which it seems to love so much. For a few days I believed that he was the true one that I was meant to fall for, that he was the one that would sweep me off my feet and prove my assumptions wrong; I thought that once my emotions were out in the open and intentions made clear that something would happen. However, once again hopes and expectations were crushed, like water breaking over the sharp jagged rocks that protrude from the sanctuary of the oceans and seas. It is on this very day that I suffer with this bittersweet curse of loneliness, it is on this dreadful day that I have found out that everything meant nothing. It is on this day that I feel that all my dreams of finding a valid partner for my course of university life is over. No guy has ever made me feel so useless, so shattered, so broken and so foolish. I am but a fool to this world of love and relationships, nothing more and nothing less. I guess I will have to promise myself that my academics are more important than anything else in this world. After all, I have my mother and father, although they will not always be there, particularly since my father is suffering with Parkinson’s disease, and it scares me senseless that he might not see me graduate; a family is all one needs in life. However, my problem now is what happens when my mother and father pass on? I guess loneliness will be my only love in life.
This is a fate that I am just going to have to accept, some way or the other.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
"Rhodes demolish NMMU at Inter-Varsity cyber-games"
Rhodes Demolish NMMU at Inter-Varsity Cyber-Games:
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| Where Leaders Learn |
Grenades were flying and students were dying at the inaugural cyber-athletics tournament held during Intervarsity.
“I have been hit!” “Man down!” and “I owned you!” shouted fighting opponents. Sweaty fingers hit sticky keyboards as the contest took place in the Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University computer labs. Rhodes University won the tournament, beating NMMU 5 - 2. NMMU outnumbered the Rhodes team’s nine players by 15. Like a game of cricket, proceedings ran from 10am till 6pm.
Before the tournament began, players cracked their knuckles with warm-up games to get their eye steady.Three games were played; Counter-Strike 1.6, StarCraft and Defence of the Ancients (DoTA), with teams having experts specialising in each.
Counter-Strike is a tactical firstperson shooter game, where teams choose to be counter-terrorists or terrorists. Each round is won by eliminating the opposing force. StarCraft is a military science fiction real-time army strategy game.
Set in the 26th century, the game revolves around three species fighting for dominance in a distant part of the Milky Way.
Dota, (Defense of the Ancients) is another realtime strategy game where players create heroes and use gold to buy equipment.
Garrett Eriksen, who goes by the alias of Flangenimblick, organised the tournament on behalf of Rhodes Games Society (GameSoc).
He said that the rules were strictly outlined at the beginning of the day and designated marshals oversaw the tournament to watch out for any cheating and quell bad sportsmanship.
Cheating is defined as using software or hacking the game programme codes to gain an advantage. “You’ve been beaten by a girl,” jeered Eriksen, at some of his comrades.
Two women took part in the tournament, Pamela Kunene, head of the Computer Users Society at NMMU and Pascalene Houseman from Rhodes who goes by the gaming name of xxArtemisxx.
“She was a last minute addition to the team who quickly proved herself one of the top players in the tournament, easily outpacing many of her male counterparts,” said an impressed Eriksen.
Due to the last minute decision to run the event, Fort Hare and Walter Sisulu could not assemble a team in time but hope to participate next year.
They don’t have computer societies at this stage but the event has spurred them on to create a gaming society based on the Rhodes GameSoc model.
“The winning team received bragging rights, customised posters and a copy of Frontline: Fuels of War for each member, donated by GameSoc,” said Eriksen.
“Overall, it was a great success and we’re all very happy with the way it turned out. Everyone had a great time and spirits were high right up until the end of the day! Games Society is very proud to have been a part of the first annual Inter-Varsity.”
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| Members of the Rhodes Games Society show off their certificates. |
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
The Horror Starts Again
The alarm screams through the silence of the morning, screaming, shouting, never ceasing. She turns over, eyes still half closed and reaches for the alarm that has interrupted another night of dreamless slumber. Fingers dabble with the buttons unwillingly, trying to silence the device that is determined to wake her; however, as soon as the silence falls over the dimly lit room once again, she continues to stay in bed. She doesn't move, she doesn't roll over to allow a calming slumber to fall over her once again; instead, she lay there, staring at the blank, black screen of her laptop that has been set so neatly besides the strange bed. Minutes tick by, minutes in which she attempts to pull herself out of the hole she has figuratively crawled into, minutes in which she tries to free herself from the dread that fills her heart. The loneliness has started eating its way through her mind now, making her immune to any sense of happiness. Blue-green eyes tear themselves away from the black void and find their way to the thin red lines carved into skin. Tears immediately begin to well up in the eyes of this young lady as she recalls the emptiness, the pain and anguish that has been haunting her for the past few weeks of her life. A silent gulp refreshes her lungs from the choking sensation that has suddenly delved poison black nails into those vital organs.
It's happening again. Her past is coming back to haunt her, that lonely past that she thought she had escaped months ago. However, it's back again, bleeding with a new ferocity... and the voices. Damn those voices are back, whispering coaxing words of subtle agony into her ear, driving her forwards to commit this blasphemous deed. She has access to so many blades, so many glorious sacred shining silver blades that this addiction can feed from.
She shakes her head in a silent denial, she does not want to succumb to the will of those persuasive voices. She tries to deny them of their desires.
She stays in her bed, rolled up underneath the duvet. Arm hidden beneath the blankets so that prying eyes may not catch another glance at the destruction caused. There's too much at stake; her sanity is on the line. Another tear gently cascades down the cheek to be buried upon the pillow on which her delicate head lay.
She knows that her day has to begin at some point.
Eventually out of bed now, she pulls her clothes over her head, eyes reflecting the dismal melancholy written in the gloomy overcast sky, as tear drops rain from the heavens above. A soft sigh escapes her lips as she turns towards the mirror. Her eyes lock onto those of her reflection. No longer are they glimmering with the green-blue mirth that is normally seen within them, but instead they are mere orbs imitating the grey sky. She cannot sway her eyes from those of the reflection, she cannot bear to tear them away from the pain and anguish that they have uncovered. The source is unknown, but it's still there like a haunting nightmare that will never fade from her imagination. It's almost as if death is urging her forwards, flirting with her every waking second that she stands in front of this mirror.
The smell of coffee smothers the room with its overwhelming scent, leaving her there to enjoy the warmth that it provides. She sits on her bed, holding the cup, nurturing the tears that fall down her cheeks, while the sadistic blade sits upon her desk glaring at her, beckoning her forwards. Temptation has reared its head, temptation is there whispering the bittersweet sounds in her ear. She can no longer take it. The coffee mug is slammed down upon the table with a soft thud, and soon she finds herself sitting in front of her desk carving out her frustrations upon a soft, supple canvas, which is soon painted red. The sensation that races through her body is overwhelming. It feels to good, so enticing that she cannot stop.
However, after a few breath-taking seconds, she has had her fix for the next few hours that she will depart from her room. The addiction dying down for a while, like a large beast laying its head down to fall into a deep slumber.
It's happening again. Her past is coming back to haunt her, that lonely past that she thought she had escaped months ago. However, it's back again, bleeding with a new ferocity... and the voices. Damn those voices are back, whispering coaxing words of subtle agony into her ear, driving her forwards to commit this blasphemous deed. She has access to so many blades, so many glorious sacred shining silver blades that this addiction can feed from.
She shakes her head in a silent denial, she does not want to succumb to the will of those persuasive voices. She tries to deny them of their desires.
She stays in her bed, rolled up underneath the duvet. Arm hidden beneath the blankets so that prying eyes may not catch another glance at the destruction caused. There's too much at stake; her sanity is on the line. Another tear gently cascades down the cheek to be buried upon the pillow on which her delicate head lay.
She knows that her day has to begin at some point.
Eventually out of bed now, she pulls her clothes over her head, eyes reflecting the dismal melancholy written in the gloomy overcast sky, as tear drops rain from the heavens above. A soft sigh escapes her lips as she turns towards the mirror. Her eyes lock onto those of her reflection. No longer are they glimmering with the green-blue mirth that is normally seen within them, but instead they are mere orbs imitating the grey sky. She cannot sway her eyes from those of the reflection, she cannot bear to tear them away from the pain and anguish that they have uncovered. The source is unknown, but it's still there like a haunting nightmare that will never fade from her imagination. It's almost as if death is urging her forwards, flirting with her every waking second that she stands in front of this mirror.
The smell of coffee smothers the room with its overwhelming scent, leaving her there to enjoy the warmth that it provides. She sits on her bed, holding the cup, nurturing the tears that fall down her cheeks, while the sadistic blade sits upon her desk glaring at her, beckoning her forwards. Temptation has reared its head, temptation is there whispering the bittersweet sounds in her ear. She can no longer take it. The coffee mug is slammed down upon the table with a soft thud, and soon she finds herself sitting in front of her desk carving out her frustrations upon a soft, supple canvas, which is soon painted red. The sensation that races through her body is overwhelming. It feels to good, so enticing that she cannot stop.
However, after a few breath-taking seconds, she has had her fix for the next few hours that she will depart from her room. The addiction dying down for a while, like a large beast laying its head down to fall into a deep slumber.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
She stares into the reflection of another.
A mirror never lies when one stares into the eyes of a reflection that simply gazes back. It is within these crystal eyes that we see the true pain that is being hidden away from the light of day, the other prying eyes of society. People are so caught up, these days, with what is socially acceptable, and the right manner in which to behave, that we sometimes forget the pain, the scars, that are being painted with another layer of tissue in order to survive the day with that false smile on our lips, stained crimson with the lies that only humanity has to offer.
We are not perfect, nor will we ever reach that perfection. We are human beings and it is our imperfection that makes us who we are, that allows us to be prone to mistakes and mayhem.
This young girl realizes this horrible fact the moment eyes flicker open to greet that simple flicker of golden sunlight that slithers through the gap of such heavy curtains. A tear rolls down her cheek, some horrible nightmare has terrorized her mind that night. However, it is quickly wiped away with a trembling pale hand, almost as if she was ashamed to shed this little crystal, almost as if the walls had eyes revealing the weakness that she felt pounded within her heart. Even though she was completely alone in this isolated room, she was still scared to allow that little crystal tear the freedom of staining her cheek.
Legs are soon thrown over the edge of the bed, as she realizes that another day beckons her towards studying, working, and attempting to mask the loneliness that thuds against her sternum. She walks towards the mirror, slowly, still slightly groggy from just awakening from this terribly unsettled slumber. Blue-green eyes blink a few times, focusing on the face that emerges just behind the glass of the mirror. Dark hair is thrown in a disarray, wisps of dark curls fall this way and that, while eyes are lined with a dark smudge of stubborn eye liner that refused to be wiped away from her eyes the previous night.
A few gulps of air invade her lungs before eyes are drawn towards that eerie person that stands just beyond reach. A small flicker of a smile is ripped from her pale lips as she realizes something more sinister lurking behind that gaze. It is within the eyes of the other person standing there that her heart drops to her feet, and that wretches sensation of isolation grips her with its melancholic ice cold fingers. An exhalation signals the sigh that soon escapes her lips as eyes avert quickly away to stare at the white basin position just below this mirror of truth. However, the eyes of the other just seem so alluring that she can do nothing more that turn glazed eyes back towards those that seem to hold the weight of the world in such a pained expression.
Suddenly, the rays of light glimmering through the curtains mean nothing to her; suddenly, the whole world seems like a dismal place where despondency reigns with its head held high with pride and power. Suddenly, reality is nothing more than a word to remind her of the troubles that she has to face, and eventually that heart-wrenching depression falls over her, clouding the usually joyful features once again.
She eventually turns away from the mirror, head held low, fringe falling over those eyes that revealed more than wanted, and her heart beating with no enthusiasm, but instead a monotonous thud that echoes within her ears, drowning everything else out. She stares at the cupboard, at the millions of clothes that sit waiting to hug her body, offering her that brief sensation of comfort, however, none of these items seem to catch her eye. The first thing that she can grab is the item that will be yanked over her head.
The door remains closed...
We are not perfect, nor will we ever reach that perfection. We are human beings and it is our imperfection that makes us who we are, that allows us to be prone to mistakes and mayhem.
This young girl realizes this horrible fact the moment eyes flicker open to greet that simple flicker of golden sunlight that slithers through the gap of such heavy curtains. A tear rolls down her cheek, some horrible nightmare has terrorized her mind that night. However, it is quickly wiped away with a trembling pale hand, almost as if she was ashamed to shed this little crystal, almost as if the walls had eyes revealing the weakness that she felt pounded within her heart. Even though she was completely alone in this isolated room, she was still scared to allow that little crystal tear the freedom of staining her cheek.
Legs are soon thrown over the edge of the bed, as she realizes that another day beckons her towards studying, working, and attempting to mask the loneliness that thuds against her sternum. She walks towards the mirror, slowly, still slightly groggy from just awakening from this terribly unsettled slumber. Blue-green eyes blink a few times, focusing on the face that emerges just behind the glass of the mirror. Dark hair is thrown in a disarray, wisps of dark curls fall this way and that, while eyes are lined with a dark smudge of stubborn eye liner that refused to be wiped away from her eyes the previous night.
A few gulps of air invade her lungs before eyes are drawn towards that eerie person that stands just beyond reach. A small flicker of a smile is ripped from her pale lips as she realizes something more sinister lurking behind that gaze. It is within the eyes of the other person standing there that her heart drops to her feet, and that wretches sensation of isolation grips her with its melancholic ice cold fingers. An exhalation signals the sigh that soon escapes her lips as eyes avert quickly away to stare at the white basin position just below this mirror of truth. However, the eyes of the other just seem so alluring that she can do nothing more that turn glazed eyes back towards those that seem to hold the weight of the world in such a pained expression.
Suddenly, the rays of light glimmering through the curtains mean nothing to her; suddenly, the whole world seems like a dismal place where despondency reigns with its head held high with pride and power. Suddenly, reality is nothing more than a word to remind her of the troubles that she has to face, and eventually that heart-wrenching depression falls over her, clouding the usually joyful features once again.
She eventually turns away from the mirror, head held low, fringe falling over those eyes that revealed more than wanted, and her heart beating with no enthusiasm, but instead a monotonous thud that echoes within her ears, drowning everything else out. She stares at the cupboard, at the millions of clothes that sit waiting to hug her body, offering her that brief sensation of comfort, however, none of these items seem to catch her eye. The first thing that she can grab is the item that will be yanked over her head.
The door remains closed...
The Prologue:
The darkness embraced the slender figure of a young girl who sat in her room, eyes intently locked on what lay in her hands. Oozing red crimson soaked the fur of the limp and lifeless animal that was cradled within tender loving hands; drops of water splattered against the fur, embedded deep within the fluffiness and soaking the cold dead skin. The puppy had been no older than a three or four months before it had been ruthless strangled and beaten to death by a raging man who wanted nothing to do with pets or anything that brought his unwanted daughter any form of happiness.
The little girl bent low over the carcass, nuzzling her face into the soft, wet fur allowing her tears of emptiness to haunt the lifeless form, while a deep crimson was wiped over her pale flesh.
She could smell the metallic scent that drifted off the freshly killed pet, however, she could not let go of the one thing she had been so proud to find abandoned within one of the old buildings that a friend and her regularly visited.
Her sister had just gotten a new cat, so it only seemed fair that she would be allowed to have a pet of her own, however, father would not see it that way.
He always did like her better! He always did love her more.
The grip on the carcass tightened slightly, ageless hands tensing, fingers digging into the cold limp form, before her wrists started working, twisting and turning, causing a sickening, nauseating sound to grate against the cold air that she was bathed in. Undeveloped bones started to give way to the surprising strength, the undeniable rage, which seared through the girl’s fingers and movements; that nauseating sound was simply enhanced as the crack of bone after bone broke the silence of her blackened prison. A final scream. The blood covered carcass flew across the room smashing against the wall, painting it with a deep stain before sliding down towards the floor where it lay crumpled over in a furry heap.
The little girl stared at her hands, inspecting the blood that coated it. She raised a little palm to her lips and stuck her tongue into it. Wrinkling her nose in a sense of disgust, she gagged for a while as the sickening metallic taste lurked about on her taste buds.
This was the first time she tasted it.
She meshed her palms together, feeling them slide against each other due to the lubricating crimson substance that was splattered over her hands, causing a revolting squelching noise to reverberate about the room that was bathed in the stench of death.
This was the first time she felt it.
A delicate intake of the freshly decorated air told her that blood had been spilled. Reading novels that revolved around crime scenes and investigations of homicide, she could finally say that she knew what the smell of bloody death smelled like.
This was the first time she smelt it.
Oh the glorious wonders of it all. The undeniable fortunes she had unlocked; the craving that wanted more and more of what she felt, of what she tasted and smelt. She wanted it all to happen over and over again. Her eyes gleamed with the first hint of malice as she crawled to the edge of the bed and cast her eyes over towards the poor limp carcass of the puppy she had once loved. It was then that she wondered what that must feel like, what it must feel like to kill. She bit down hard on her lip as she heard her father’s drunken screams of wrath echo down the corridors that lead to the bedrooms. She shivered lightly, her eyes quickly averting to stare at the door expecting the monstrosity to burst through and grab her by the scruff of her neck, dragging her to another merciless beating, with instrument of his choice, of course. A sharp intake of breath as the door knob rattled threateningly. She retreated to the other end of her bed, curling her arms around the scatter cushions, pillows and teddy bears that were littered over her bed; bright blue eyes were wide with fear as a sliver of golden light crept into the room that was submerged in the pitch blackness of the dark. The little girl pressed herself tighter against the headboard, causing the once clutched devices of comfort to fall from the bed and whack the floor with a muffled thud.
A final creak signalled and the door was finally thrown open, revealing the silhouette of a large, muscular masculine form.
The little girl took another sharp intake of breath which immediately stung her wind pipe and caused her lungs to scream with dissatisfaction. She choked slightly on this breath, however, before anything could be said, or another breath made, the girl was grabbed by the luscious, thick strands of her hair and dragged out into the painful rays of the fluorescent bulb, which stung her eyes that had been exposed to the dark for a reasonable amount of time, exposing the blood that had been smeared over her porcelain visage and petite hands. She yelped slightly, feeling the tears instantly well up within her eyes. Grappling at the strong, trunk-like fingers, the fresh blood caused her petite fingers to slip over his; bathing is in the red stench as well.
Once they travelled across the corridor that lead to the kitchen, she was thrown across the floor ending up in a crumpled heap, like the one that the carcass of the puppy, had formed upon the kitchen floor. Her luscious chocolate curls fell over her small body, matted with clumps of congealing blood, while for a second; she did not move a single inch.
The large masculine figure was finally revealed in the bright lights that rained down upon the kitchen revealing the red-glazed eyes, which were a simple side-effect from the alcohol, and the creases that formed at the corners of his eyes and upon his forehead, showing the maturation of his age. His cheeks were scarred, a tell-tale sign that this man had been in more than a few fights in his youth, while the drunken sway was another dead giveaway that the influence of the booze had its sadistic grip wrapped tightly over the selfish heart he possessed.
Taking a swaying step towards his daughter, he entwined his fingers within her luscious chocolate girls once again, before helping her to her feet with a swift jerk of his hand. A howl of pain caressed the still silence, before eyes were yanked open, glistening with diamond tears and anguish. A slight scuffle was heard by the door, and that’s where she saw her sister standing with the kitten in her arms. Tiny fingers ran through the fur soothingly, while large emerald eyes were shocked by the event that was unfolding, causing a raucous noise to creep through the air. The howling stopped the moment she laid eyes on the other figure, which caused a frown to creep over the face of the abuser, as he turned to see his darling precious gem standing there, witnessing the horror that consumed her father. Letting the chocolate curls go, causing the small frame to crash to the ground, he walked over towards the girl who clutched onto the kitten; a compassionate smile gleamed over harsh features as he cradled the girl’s head in his arms, before calling for their mother to fetch her away from the scene of violence that was erupting within the kitchen.
“Get her away from here.” He scolded his wife, pushing the timid, raven black haired girl, with the kitten, into her mother’s arms, who quickly obeyed the brusque words and ushered the twelve year old away from the room.
This diversion had given the victim enough time to find a means of escape. She touched her lip slightly, smelling the burning copper of blood, tasting it upon her lips, feeling it between her fingers. This reunion with the ravenous craving awoke a disturbed state of mind within the fifteen year old girl; it had revealed the red eyed monster of vengeance, forcing it to rear an angry head and unleash a terrible wrath upon the world. She was tall enough to reach the kitchen counters. Groping quickly, as her father approached to continue the onslaught, she felt her timid, delicate, blood-stained fingers close over an object that felt like the smooth handgrip that was wrapped around the handle of one of the large butcher knives that her father used when it came to slicing raw meat up for the wife to place in a pan.
Feeling hungry eyes ravage her petite body as the man stalked his prey in a primal manner; she fumbled with the instrument that could lead to her salvation. Her eyes were pinned onto his ambling form, wide with fear; however her bleeding lips were pursed with determination as she finally got a firm grip on the knife. Backing away into a corner, she held the knife in front of her, like a javelin or lance of some sort, almost as if she had the intention of skewering her oppressing, sticking him like a pig that would be roasted over an open fire. She quivered slightly, feeling her whole body shudder with the nerves that caused her heart to pound in her ears, deafening her from all the other sounds that moved about the house.
A demonic chuckle shot through the eerie silence of the air, as her father’s eyes came to rest upon the defensive position she had taken up.
“You’re going to try end me, child? After everything that I’ve done? Everything that I’ve given you?”
He banged a closed, drunken fist on the table, causing the cutlery and appliances that were littered over the table, to jump into the air with a slight shock before falling back to their haven with a noisy clutter.
The little girl winced at this, her eyes shutting tightly, before peering out from one, seeing that he was closer than before. It was in the moment of darkness, the moment in which she had bathed herself by simply closing her eyes that the visions of past beatings flooded her memory, painting the black canvas with crystal clear visions of the event and the aftermath of the saga that raged within her father’s head as more alcohol tainted the purity of his blood.
Eyes flashed open dangerously to reveal a menacing glint that challenged her oppressor with a new vigilance. She said nothing, merely sneered and snarled as she shuffled forwards in a cunning manner, provoking the large beast to attack.
The drunken stupor was beginning to overwhelm his mind now, causing his vision to blur slightly and his temper to flare to considerably new heights as he watched the child act foolishly at the hands of her punisher. Reaching for a pale, bruised arm, he retracted his hand quickly, feeling his skin burn and sear as the cold knife slit through his flesh. A cry of pain emanated from the gigantic figure before he launched a more vicious attack on the young girl; filled with rage and contempt he lashed out at her repeatedly, flailing his arms about, yet the agility that the youth displayed conquered the sluggish movements of the shadow of the man who once stood in that very same position. Time after time, cut after cut, the blade found its target with an accurate precision that caused the great brute to snarl and growl with frustration combined with the sting of the blade as it cut deeper and deeper.
The scent was there.
The taste still lingered upon her lips.
The sight treated her eyes with a holy display of human free will.
The sensation of crimson liquid upon her hands was the last thing to tick off on her list as the craving took over now.
A more aggressive girl was seen now as she moved quickly, jabbing and dodgy as quickly as she could. Soon enough the beast had fallen to his knees, as both bore the signs of a bloody achievement. He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly, his eyes drooping, a low grunt escaped his cracked lips; the drunken madman was beginning to fade from the father’s image as the effects of the alcohol abated, leaving him vulnerable to the fury of his daughter. Seeing this as her opportunity to end her suffering, she slashed relentlessly at his throat, over and over again, deeper and deeper, causing blood to spew from the hacked veins and arteries, painting the floor with its ruby crimson glow. The figure slumped over; death was upon the air once again.
She collapsed onto all fours, the knife being thrown from her grasp, her eyes closing slightly as she felt the relief of such an act sooth the craving that had wreaked emotional havoc upon her mind. Her eyes flickered open to the horrendous act that had occurred beneath her hands, and that’s when she saw it, she felt it stain the porcelain surface of her skin.
The feeling of it was enticing.
This was the day that the true child-like innocence disappeared from such an angel of the heavens. Cursed to forever hold a blood-lust, this child was not able to grow up suffering the ordeals of a usual childhood, a normal teenaged stage of life...
Instead the horrors of that night were to haunt her until the day that death ripped her from this miserable earth she called home.
The little girl bent low over the carcass, nuzzling her face into the soft, wet fur allowing her tears of emptiness to haunt the lifeless form, while a deep crimson was wiped over her pale flesh.
She could smell the metallic scent that drifted off the freshly killed pet, however, she could not let go of the one thing she had been so proud to find abandoned within one of the old buildings that a friend and her regularly visited.
Her sister had just gotten a new cat, so it only seemed fair that she would be allowed to have a pet of her own, however, father would not see it that way.
He always did like her better! He always did love her more.
The grip on the carcass tightened slightly, ageless hands tensing, fingers digging into the cold limp form, before her wrists started working, twisting and turning, causing a sickening, nauseating sound to grate against the cold air that she was bathed in. Undeveloped bones started to give way to the surprising strength, the undeniable rage, which seared through the girl’s fingers and movements; that nauseating sound was simply enhanced as the crack of bone after bone broke the silence of her blackened prison. A final scream. The blood covered carcass flew across the room smashing against the wall, painting it with a deep stain before sliding down towards the floor where it lay crumpled over in a furry heap.
The little girl stared at her hands, inspecting the blood that coated it. She raised a little palm to her lips and stuck her tongue into it. Wrinkling her nose in a sense of disgust, she gagged for a while as the sickening metallic taste lurked about on her taste buds.
This was the first time she tasted it.
She meshed her palms together, feeling them slide against each other due to the lubricating crimson substance that was splattered over her hands, causing a revolting squelching noise to reverberate about the room that was bathed in the stench of death.
This was the first time she felt it.
A delicate intake of the freshly decorated air told her that blood had been spilled. Reading novels that revolved around crime scenes and investigations of homicide, she could finally say that she knew what the smell of bloody death smelled like.
This was the first time she smelt it.
Oh the glorious wonders of it all. The undeniable fortunes she had unlocked; the craving that wanted more and more of what she felt, of what she tasted and smelt. She wanted it all to happen over and over again. Her eyes gleamed with the first hint of malice as she crawled to the edge of the bed and cast her eyes over towards the poor limp carcass of the puppy she had once loved. It was then that she wondered what that must feel like, what it must feel like to kill. She bit down hard on her lip as she heard her father’s drunken screams of wrath echo down the corridors that lead to the bedrooms. She shivered lightly, her eyes quickly averting to stare at the door expecting the monstrosity to burst through and grab her by the scruff of her neck, dragging her to another merciless beating, with instrument of his choice, of course. A sharp intake of breath as the door knob rattled threateningly. She retreated to the other end of her bed, curling her arms around the scatter cushions, pillows and teddy bears that were littered over her bed; bright blue eyes were wide with fear as a sliver of golden light crept into the room that was submerged in the pitch blackness of the dark. The little girl pressed herself tighter against the headboard, causing the once clutched devices of comfort to fall from the bed and whack the floor with a muffled thud.
A final creak signalled and the door was finally thrown open, revealing the silhouette of a large, muscular masculine form.
The little girl took another sharp intake of breath which immediately stung her wind pipe and caused her lungs to scream with dissatisfaction. She choked slightly on this breath, however, before anything could be said, or another breath made, the girl was grabbed by the luscious, thick strands of her hair and dragged out into the painful rays of the fluorescent bulb, which stung her eyes that had been exposed to the dark for a reasonable amount of time, exposing the blood that had been smeared over her porcelain visage and petite hands. She yelped slightly, feeling the tears instantly well up within her eyes. Grappling at the strong, trunk-like fingers, the fresh blood caused her petite fingers to slip over his; bathing is in the red stench as well.
Once they travelled across the corridor that lead to the kitchen, she was thrown across the floor ending up in a crumpled heap, like the one that the carcass of the puppy, had formed upon the kitchen floor. Her luscious chocolate curls fell over her small body, matted with clumps of congealing blood, while for a second; she did not move a single inch.
The large masculine figure was finally revealed in the bright lights that rained down upon the kitchen revealing the red-glazed eyes, which were a simple side-effect from the alcohol, and the creases that formed at the corners of his eyes and upon his forehead, showing the maturation of his age. His cheeks were scarred, a tell-tale sign that this man had been in more than a few fights in his youth, while the drunken sway was another dead giveaway that the influence of the booze had its sadistic grip wrapped tightly over the selfish heart he possessed.
Taking a swaying step towards his daughter, he entwined his fingers within her luscious chocolate girls once again, before helping her to her feet with a swift jerk of his hand. A howl of pain caressed the still silence, before eyes were yanked open, glistening with diamond tears and anguish. A slight scuffle was heard by the door, and that’s where she saw her sister standing with the kitten in her arms. Tiny fingers ran through the fur soothingly, while large emerald eyes were shocked by the event that was unfolding, causing a raucous noise to creep through the air. The howling stopped the moment she laid eyes on the other figure, which caused a frown to creep over the face of the abuser, as he turned to see his darling precious gem standing there, witnessing the horror that consumed her father. Letting the chocolate curls go, causing the small frame to crash to the ground, he walked over towards the girl who clutched onto the kitten; a compassionate smile gleamed over harsh features as he cradled the girl’s head in his arms, before calling for their mother to fetch her away from the scene of violence that was erupting within the kitchen.
“Get her away from here.” He scolded his wife, pushing the timid, raven black haired girl, with the kitten, into her mother’s arms, who quickly obeyed the brusque words and ushered the twelve year old away from the room.
This diversion had given the victim enough time to find a means of escape. She touched her lip slightly, smelling the burning copper of blood, tasting it upon her lips, feeling it between her fingers. This reunion with the ravenous craving awoke a disturbed state of mind within the fifteen year old girl; it had revealed the red eyed monster of vengeance, forcing it to rear an angry head and unleash a terrible wrath upon the world. She was tall enough to reach the kitchen counters. Groping quickly, as her father approached to continue the onslaught, she felt her timid, delicate, blood-stained fingers close over an object that felt like the smooth handgrip that was wrapped around the handle of one of the large butcher knives that her father used when it came to slicing raw meat up for the wife to place in a pan.
Feeling hungry eyes ravage her petite body as the man stalked his prey in a primal manner; she fumbled with the instrument that could lead to her salvation. Her eyes were pinned onto his ambling form, wide with fear; however her bleeding lips were pursed with determination as she finally got a firm grip on the knife. Backing away into a corner, she held the knife in front of her, like a javelin or lance of some sort, almost as if she had the intention of skewering her oppressing, sticking him like a pig that would be roasted over an open fire. She quivered slightly, feeling her whole body shudder with the nerves that caused her heart to pound in her ears, deafening her from all the other sounds that moved about the house.
A demonic chuckle shot through the eerie silence of the air, as her father’s eyes came to rest upon the defensive position she had taken up.
“You’re going to try end me, child? After everything that I’ve done? Everything that I’ve given you?”
He banged a closed, drunken fist on the table, causing the cutlery and appliances that were littered over the table, to jump into the air with a slight shock before falling back to their haven with a noisy clutter.
The little girl winced at this, her eyes shutting tightly, before peering out from one, seeing that he was closer than before. It was in the moment of darkness, the moment in which she had bathed herself by simply closing her eyes that the visions of past beatings flooded her memory, painting the black canvas with crystal clear visions of the event and the aftermath of the saga that raged within her father’s head as more alcohol tainted the purity of his blood.
Eyes flashed open dangerously to reveal a menacing glint that challenged her oppressor with a new vigilance. She said nothing, merely sneered and snarled as she shuffled forwards in a cunning manner, provoking the large beast to attack.
The drunken stupor was beginning to overwhelm his mind now, causing his vision to blur slightly and his temper to flare to considerably new heights as he watched the child act foolishly at the hands of her punisher. Reaching for a pale, bruised arm, he retracted his hand quickly, feeling his skin burn and sear as the cold knife slit through his flesh. A cry of pain emanated from the gigantic figure before he launched a more vicious attack on the young girl; filled with rage and contempt he lashed out at her repeatedly, flailing his arms about, yet the agility that the youth displayed conquered the sluggish movements of the shadow of the man who once stood in that very same position. Time after time, cut after cut, the blade found its target with an accurate precision that caused the great brute to snarl and growl with frustration combined with the sting of the blade as it cut deeper and deeper.
The scent was there.
The taste still lingered upon her lips.
The sight treated her eyes with a holy display of human free will.
The sensation of crimson liquid upon her hands was the last thing to tick off on her list as the craving took over now.
A more aggressive girl was seen now as she moved quickly, jabbing and dodgy as quickly as she could. Soon enough the beast had fallen to his knees, as both bore the signs of a bloody achievement. He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly, his eyes drooping, a low grunt escaped his cracked lips; the drunken madman was beginning to fade from the father’s image as the effects of the alcohol abated, leaving him vulnerable to the fury of his daughter. Seeing this as her opportunity to end her suffering, she slashed relentlessly at his throat, over and over again, deeper and deeper, causing blood to spew from the hacked veins and arteries, painting the floor with its ruby crimson glow. The figure slumped over; death was upon the air once again.
She collapsed onto all fours, the knife being thrown from her grasp, her eyes closing slightly as she felt the relief of such an act sooth the craving that had wreaked emotional havoc upon her mind. Her eyes flickered open to the horrendous act that had occurred beneath her hands, and that’s when she saw it, she felt it stain the porcelain surface of her skin.
The feeling of it was enticing.
This was the day that the true child-like innocence disappeared from such an angel of the heavens. Cursed to forever hold a blood-lust, this child was not able to grow up suffering the ordeals of a usual childhood, a normal teenaged stage of life...
Instead the horrors of that night were to haunt her until the day that death ripped her from this miserable earth she called home.
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