Dolls

Déjà vu or Voodoo #WEPFF Challenge featuring The Nameless Ingenue #amwriting #flashfiction

Yeah, I’m way early again this month, but I can’t do anything else with this story so I might as well post it.

Sometimes I fear my mind goes to dark places. For that reason, I try to steer clear of dark themes, yet they always seem to find me. Most of my adult fiction has some sort of dark theme, outside of my romantic efforts. This theme, for some reason, really spoke to me. Don’t know why. The day I really paid attention to what the theme was, I wrote the story below.

Just in case: you’ll see the word “ingenue”, pronounced (an – zhuh – noo) <– real phonics OR (on – zjay – new) <– my phonics, lol ;).

The Nameless Ingenue

The nameless ingenue and the revered champion met on the dance floor, searching each other out like constellations in the night. They’d made it; together at last. She in her pearly linens clinging to her timid flesh that radiated with hope and unrequited passion. He in his clanging metals and silken coat, spread taut across his muscled form, pulsating with unquenched desire.

Their bodies drawn into one another, melting into gliding and swaying limbs. Their toes barely graced the sheen of the dance floor before their shoulders dipped into an unending embrace. Their lips pressed together in a tender massage, as though one was resuscitating the other. Their hands reaching and groping as though there were no other lovers sharing the dance floor.

When their lips parted, and their eyes gazed into each other’s souls, the ingenue felt something tugging at her heart. There was a subtle ache as she tore her eyes away, darting her focus around the room. Her eyes landed on a glass of Champaign with her reflection waving at her mockingly. She understood then, this is not how it was supposed to happen.

The nameless ingenue and the revered champion met on the dance floor, hungry to hold each other tightly. They’d made it; together at last. She in her white lace wrapped around her supple flesh excited to face her first lover. He in his coat of jewels and metals, sparkling with strength and confidence as he prepared to claim his prize.

Eagerly, she reached for the champion, desperate to offer him her body. Like a king at court, the champion accepted the gift of her flesh and squeezed it tight, shocking the horrified onlookers. Gasping in terror, the ingenue pleaded with her eyes and clawed at the vice grip around her body. The champion swept the floor with her dangling feet, forcing her into a deadly waltz.

Sniggering with ominous elation, the champion twisted red rings around the ingénue’s neck. The pain of betrayal sent her eyes reeling with regret and searching for understanding. With her eyelids slipping towards oblivion, she glanced at her dying body, reflected in a glass of Champaign. She understood then, this is not how it was supposed to end.
–
The nameless ingenue and the revered champion met on the dance floor, eager to claim each other’s hearts. They’d made it; together at last. She in her borrowed white gown, hugging the smooth flesh of her supple body. He in his silk coat and achievement ribbons; his chest puffed in adoration and pride.

Eyes fluttering, and hands pressed against her heart, the ingenue waited for her champion to embrace her. Boldly wrapping his arms around her waist, forgoing formalities, the champion pressed his lips against his prize. Together the lovers embraced and savored the sweetness of passion fulfilled.

When they’d drawn a sufficient crowd, the ingenue raised her hand to the champion’s neck and stabbed him with a blade that had been concealed beneath her laces. The champions body fell limp and tumbled to the floor; shock and heartbreak distorting his once handsome features. Dancing lovers parted the floor, fleeing the menace radiating in the ingenue’s eyes as the blade in her hand raised and lowered again and again.

Surrounded by horrified revelers, an ache shot through her heart and she fell to the floor searching for understanding. Hands clinching the fabric over her heart, she tossed and turned, trying to shield her eyes from the violence she rained down on her lover. She caught a glimpse at her reflection in a half-cracked glass of Champaign and she understood. The ingénue understood; this is how it was all supposed to end.
–
Huddled under the elegant cloth of the banquet table, the sister’s eyes sparkled with glee. With flushed cheeks and heaving breaths, she clutched the handmade ragdolls as though her life depended on it. The dark doll had been torn down the back, its stuffing of cotton and hair spilling onto the floor. She tossed the white doll, now stained with red wine, to the end of the table’s length and sighed in relief. She had enjoyed her playtime and was satisfied with the result of her game.
~
FCA- 701-words- The Nameless Ingenue 2018 Copyright © Toinette J. Thomas

Well. That’s that. Did it feel like déjà vu?
Did it make you think of Puppet Master? (I kind of had that in mind.)
Too creepy; not creepy enough?

Please, take some time to read other stories in this hop. All stories should be posted by October 17th, but early entries arrive daily. Look for any name or link with DL next to it to enjoy a short story. I guarantee you will laugh, cry, be terrified, and more.

Thank you for taking the time to read this post. If you like it let me know and share it with others. See you next time, Toi Thomas. #thetoiboxofwords

Youthful Frights vs Adult Fears #WEPFF Challenge No. 2 featuring Dolls & Eternal Curse Series #amwriting #amreading #movie

Well, I’d like to start off by saying, Happy Birthday to Me! That’s right. I’m the big 3 5 today and not ashamed one bit. Reaching 35 years of age unscathed, non-committed, non-incarcerated, and non-impoverished is something to be happy and proud about. I am blessed to have lived another year, simply put.

Now let’s talk about childhood fears…

When I was a kid (and let’s be honest, even now sometimes) I collected stuffed animals and toys. I wasn’t much into dolls, but where my sister had Barbie I had G.I. Joe. I did, however, love teddy bears. One year for my sister’s birthday, my parents decided she could have a sleepover and pick out three movies to watch, and one could be something none G or PG as long as they approved it first. I still to this day don’t know how she got this movie passed them, but I think it had something to do with the title.

Now at that time, I was nine years old (turning 10 in four months) and my sister was turning 12. She picked this movie thinking it would be corny and not really scary. Ha. I was the only one out of her bunch of friends to actually finish watching it, which I still regret to this day. I wasn’t even supposed to be at the party, not that I wasn’t invited, but I wasn’t interested in all the girly stuff that happened before the movie watching began. In a rare instance of kindness, back then (she’s lovely now), my sister gathered me from my room to watch the movies because she knew how much I enjoyed films; even at that age I knew more trivia than all the adults around me.

So, what all this boils down to is that after watching the movie, I realized that I needed to find a place to sleep. My room was out of the question. Every toy and doll in that freakish scary movie was in my bedroom along with dozens more. I’m pretty sure I remember waking up in the bathroom tub to the sound of my mom yelling, “What did you do to your sister?”

I’ve watched this movie since and it’s not nearly as scary, but still very creepy … Who makes these movies!

I find dreams to be nerve-wracking sometimes. When it’s a good dream you don’t want to wake up from it and when it’s a bad dream that’s all you want to do. I don’t throw around the word hate a lot, but I hate it when I’m having a bad dream and I can’t wake up from it, even though I know it’s not real. I can’t stand that sense of helplessness, of not being able to do anything about my situation. It’s like being mugged or trapped. That’s my adult fear and I used that idea to write the following passage. Not sure if I quite captured the sense of desperation I wanted.

Looking for general feedback here. Even though this piece has been published, the beauty of self-publishing is that I can update my work anytime I choose. 😉

He looked down toward the ground and saw an attractive young woman carrying a large pail into a barn. Her skin was freckled and pale, and she had rosy cheeks. Her hair was long and straight, and it was black like the night. She seemed so familiar to him, but he didn’t know her. Giovanni watched as the young woman filled feeding troughs with water to be cleaned. As she reached for a scrubbing brush, Giovanni could see that someone or something was following her. He sensed that trouble was on the way. He tried to call out to her, but she could not hear him. His voice made no sound. Giovanni left the tree and swooped down to the ground to achieve a closer look.

There he saw a creeping perpetrator bouncing from beam to beam in the rafters of the barn. Drool slipped from the monster’s mouth while it hovered over the unknowing young woman. Giovanni tried to fly up to see this fiendish stalker, but he couldn’t lift his feet off the ground, and his wings would not flap. Giovanni knew something bad would happen, he could feel it in his heart, but it seemed he could do nothing to stop it. He did not understand. Why was this happening? How could he appear to be so powerful, be so angelic, and not be able to help someone in need?

Giovanni refused to give up his pursuit. He pushed his body forward and moved from door to door, and window to window, trying to get in to warn and protect the young woman. Looking through a window, Giovanni finally saw the villain’s full horror. He established a clear vision of the attacker as it leaped down from the ceiling toward the woman. It was the most hideous monster he’d ever seen, much worse than his own reflection.

A twisted and mangled troll with charcoal for skin on a hairless body stalked about. It had empty holes carved out of its skull where eyes once were. There were two large dull spikes protruding from its hunched back, where it looked as though wings had been violently ripped from its body. Its hands were made of jagged bones held together with rotting ligaments, and its feet crackled as it moved along the floor.

In the troll’s hands were two long golden rods that whipped back and forth almost like lassos. Each rod was attached to the end of a large iron spike that punched through the shoulders of a young man’s dying body. The rods held up the young man’s body as though he were a puppet being pulled by strings. To the young woman, however, the troll simply appeared as a shadowy figure lingering around the painfully disturbed and ailing young man moving toward her.

The troll maneuvered the young man’s body around the girl for attack, delivering blow after blow. The monster had taken over this young man’s body; it was using him as a weapon to attack this poor girl for what seemed to be the sheer enjoyment of it. It laughed a loud cackle as it threw the girl down to the ground, tearing her raggedy dress. Giovanni could see the girl’s anguish and could hear her screams. Throbbing empathetic pain consumed him in every place the girl was struck, but Giovanni could do nothing to stop it.

Giovanni began to cry out, weeping and sobbing. He tried to look away and he tried to get away, but he couldn’t. That’s when it began to happen. He became consumed with anger and hatred. Giovanni’s body grew hot and began to sizzle. Smoke and steam began to rise up from his body as his wondrous glow began to fade and he became shrouded in darkness. Everything around him began to catch fire as he began morphing into anger. The smell of burning wood and flesh assaulted his tortured senses and Giovanni knew he was changing.

Since it’s my birthday and it’s the season of spooky, the EC: Giovanni’s Angel ebook will be on sale for 99₵ the next few days. Check it out if interested and be sure to visit other stops on this challenge hop.

Thank you for taking the time to read this post. If you like it let me know and share it with others. See you next time, Toi Thomas. #thetoiboxofwords

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