Raiha Posted January 2, 2010 Share Posted January 2, 2010 [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][B]Time for another Little Death's thread. And by another, I mean the second one ever. For those who are too lazy to look up the original Little Deaths, it's a chance for you to orchestrate the death of a member of this forum, or possibly yourself. You post 2-10 bulletpoints of what you want the death to include; decapitation, iambic pentameter (NOT HAPPENING), haiku's, Nazi's, a giant robotic clam, etc. And then I do all the hard work and spew out the horror and death. This is your chance to get back at the guy who wouldn't internet-date you. Go crazy.[/B] [i][b]To warm things up, I'll start with a suicide. Which for the record counts. The title has Death [Tod], not necessarily murder.[/b] She should've thought about the consequences before taking the chocolate. Should've just said no. But like the millions of other kids who just couldn't, she'd said yes. And now she was on her knees in front of a window looking down at the 200 foot drop wondering if death by fall was as bad as the movies made it look. Raiha could remember those times that she'd run when she should've stayed and faced the music and strangely, such things mattered more to her now that she was dreaming of her own quiet darkening instead of taking brutal angry revenge. The Raiha of the past would've gotten both hand's bloody and been cut down to die at the feet of her enemy, but that Raiha was dead. All violence and hatred had been sapped from her. Scorched out with brutality and unspeakable violence. Months in a desperately depressing hotel room with no exit and no way to refuse the people that came to her with a lick and a promise. And now the window was looking better and better. In fact, it was starting to look like a golden shiny window of hope. It was petty, superficial, but Raiha didn't want to die looking like the burned out beat up piece of human flotsam that she was. A quick shower under water so cold it burned her skin. A brush of blusher across the cheeks. Mascara, pink and purple tones of eyeshadow, and dark lipstick. She combed her hair with her brush instead of her fingers, and plaited it into a half braid so the rest hung down around her shoulders. She unwrapped the damp towel from her waist and out of sheer force of habit, hung it up on the rack in the bathroom not big enough to swing around a coat hanger in. The weather was beautiful. The rising sun was a sliver of light between the two buildings closely spaced together. The fog was dense, but not so dense it blocked out the orange light. And quite honestly, the temperature was perfect. She could stand up and stretch at the window and then finally rolled up the blinds for the first time since she'd been shoved in here. For a moment she wondered why there were no bars across the windows and then wondered why she hadn't thought about it before. But all that faded into the background as she unhooked the old latch and pushed the window up. A cool breeze swept in, ruffling her hair and raising gooseflesh on her exposed skin. A brief thought of guilt. Then Raiha leaned forward and tipped herself into nothing. The breeze was gentle, the cold was numbing and soothing at the same time. Raiha thought about steam rising from the surfaces of the street. The way her fingernails glistened in the still burning streetlights, and that wonderful rushing sense of flight. If it had been a noir film, feathers would've been falling with her body and someone that cared about her would've been screaming hysterically reaching out both arms from the window she'd chosen as her place of exit. Instead a hardened bitter face looked down onto the streets. Then he slammed the window shut, drew the blinds and yanked on the curtains and then turned back to walk towards the door. He grabbed the frightened girl that had been waiting in the hallway and shoved her into the room, slamming the door behind her. As she flew towards the place she'd just come through she heard the lock click from the outside and sank to the floor, her fingers grasping at the cheap shag carpet, her breath catching in her throat.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR] Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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