Bright lights

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Now, I was a little nervous about posting this up here. I'm not sure whether I like it or not. But hey, you can just tell me if it's really bad. We all have some horrific flops. :D
Oh, and forgive the title. I'm having a remarkably uncreative moment and couldn't think of anything :?

Thanks for reading! xoxo


Everything was glittering. Light glinted from shiny surfaces all around, winking at her, laughing, mocking. The spangled dew drops on the strands of grass, the little flakes of glitter on her skin, the sparkly beading on her dress, the leering stars above her head. All flashing with their amusement.
Dampness seeped through the thin material, hugging the skin of her back. Cold, soggy fingers seemed to reach right into her pores, soaking through her flesh, grasping at her bones, rattling them. The chill cast a fog over her senses, beckoning her into a world of dreams that she wanted so desperately to enter. There were no mocking twinkles there to watch and to judge. There was only darkness; sweet, oblivious darkness. The darkness could not see her.

There was dirt in her hair; it was making her head itch. It shouldn’t be there, mucking up the sleek curls that had taken so long to create in the golden locks. The loose strands danced in her quick, harsh breaths, swaying to the rhythm of survival. Lungs were working fast to obtain the necessary oxygen needed for the fight or flight instinct. Too fast, as she wasn’t going anywhere. There should be another option; fight, flight or freeze.

“Bindy.”

The sound resonated within the confines of her mind, echoing back at her. Bindy, Bindy, Bindy. Did that one little sound really sum her up entirely? Why not simply give her a number? It had just as much meaning.

“I love you, Bindy.”

These sounds had scarcely as much value as the last. They were merely words; empty, meaningless. They could be spat out by any pair of lips, simply used as a means of acquiring something. Something that wasn’t ready to be given. Noise bubbled up in her own throat, responding to the hollow words.

“Please, don’t.”

Green eyes, deceitful, full of shadows and lies. They bored into her, ripping her apart, revealing everything she wanted to hide. Pale hands with long fingers, shredding the flimsy fabric concealing her from his gaze, roughly fondling her flesh. They did not speak the words his lips did.

She was bare, exposed, vulnerable. The glitters laughed on, sneering at her, casting light on her shame. Her fragile protection lay in twisted shreds around her, the deformed corpses of a cruel slaughter. Body trembling, yet unmoving. Frozen. The hands touching, stroking, hurting. More words; pitiful, helpless sound.

“P-please, I’m begging you.”

The eyes again, dragged away from their relentless consumption to return to her face.

“But you said you loved me, too.”

Chill separated the warmth of his flesh from her. There was dirt everywhere, so much goddamn dirt. The sickly sweet scent of cologne smothered her, making her want to gag. It was in her nose, on her tongue, down her throat, permeating her very tissue. Eyes squeezed shut, she wished for it to end. She didn’t want to be joined with him. Pain, ripping through her body, tearing her into a million little pieces. Fuck, it hurt. She must be dying for there to be so much agony. If she was going to die, she hoped it would be soon.

The hands were gripping, planting the seeds for purple bruises to flourish. They dragged his body across hers, skin grinding against skin, a sound so loud in her ears she thought the earth would quake. Plunging into her darkness, invading it. It wasn’t safe anymore, it wasn’t hers. It was full of demons and dirt, filthy, perilous. Heart pounding, trying to escape the incursion of so many monsters. But she couldn’t move. She fell, a plummeting spiral, into a world of dazzling lights and pain.

Quick breaths, two sets of lungs racing each other. All was still now, but for the competing lungs. The hands moved again, touching, caressing smugly. They dragged a ruddy stain across her white stomach. Tears silently dawdled across smooth skin, more sparkles watching and cackling. And the dirt. It was everywhere. She was more dirt than flesh; it coated everything, inside and out. She would never be clean again.

The mendacious lips pressed against hers, faking again. When he moved from her, she felt the weight still there, pressing her into the earth, crushing her bones. She was a blob now; a dirty, boneless blob. His eyes glinted as he surveyed her, scorning her with the display of brightness. She wanted all the sparkles to die, to stop watching her. He was rewrapping himself, hiding the streaks of scarlet on his skin, disguising what he’d done. She cringed into herself, burrowing into the safety of her limbs, quivering, eyes closed to the world she had once trusted, to the monster she had once loved. He stared down at the mess he’d created, a flicker of guilt crossing his face.

“I’ll take you home.”

Her head shook desperately, her eyes springing open, pleading. A shrug, callous, nonchalant. Betraying the sudden desire to get away.

“Suit yourself.”

The sound of his receding footsteps mingled with gasping sobs as she lay in the muck, the stars still twinkling far above.
The problem with falling for the enemy is that you can't take them anywhere ~a Titleless Tale




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There was only darkness; sweet, oblivious darkness. The darkness could not see her.


I'm not sure about this repetition here; its a short story and you make other - more forgivable in those cases - repetitions as wells. 'She was invisible' or something of that nature for the last line, would work just as well.

Overall, I didn't find any grammatical mistakes. It flowed well, I never really had to stop or question anything. It was written very well too; seemed so personal and painful and that means you did a great job of breaching the author-reader divide. However, having said that, i found myself wanting more.

Despite how well the personal and the painful were conveyed, and this might sound callous, but what's to differentiate this from any other love/rape scene, aside from how prettily its written? The situation, the context, is as important as the painful moment, the essence of the story. That's what you have written - the core. What fruit was it once inside? Give us the outer flesh; make this mean something. Make this deeper than a surface breach.

If you get what I'm saying.

Cheers
Mah name is jiggleh. And I like to jiggle.

"Indecision and terror, thy name is novel." - Chiko



No one is perfect; not even your reflection.
— Chalkboard Words