Shakespeare wrote tragedy, dear, but I've perfected the practice!

Chapter One
Dementia

    The smoke alarm did not go off, yet everyone in the neighborhood could smell the oncoming slaughter of flesh in a burning building. Each wisp of grey fog traveled up higher and higher, and so the lapping of orange and yellow flames began to claim the living room. First they took the couch where Alice had originally planned on sleeping. Next they took the hallway. Of course, little Alice felt the fire in her veins. Her bedroom was closest to any of the exits in the whole house; that when she touched the doorknob leading to the hallway and the bathroom, it was scorching hot. Why hadn't she thought of screaming?

    Each and every blue bottom of a flame entranced her stimulated innocent eye. There, she'd opened the door to her bedroom and kindly assisted the flame to come in and join her. So hot was the idea of saying anything in her throat but all that came out were gurgled messes of sentences. "Aye!" came a cry from the upstairs bedroom. "Honey, reach for the fire extinguisher! Alice, can you hear me? We must save Alice!"

    "Oh dear!" Alice's father came crashing down the steps in an attempt to save his only daughter. But attempts were futile, she wouldn't be saved. Alice just stood there in her plain blue dress with the white splashing down the front. Where'd she been instead of bed? Having a tea party, perhaps? "Alice?!"

    "Mum!" the girl choked on her own words when the smoke seeped into her nostrils and let her lungs become strangled like barbed wire around a defenseless trespasser. She reached out to retrieve her parents welcoming hands but they shunned her. "Get out Alice!" Quickly shrill yelling filled the air more than the fire ever could as Alice herself stumbled out of the wreckage. Where had her mind gone? People galore had filled her driveway with tissues and welcoming arms. The only thing saved was a sooty old stuffed rabbit.

    "Alice are you alright?" said one plump old woman who wobbled over to catch the stumbling girl. Not everyone was so kind to dearest Alice though. "Alice, why didn't you help?"

    "Where were you when the fire started?"

    "Alice, you let your parents die!"

    Widely brimmed eyes watered tightly. She couldn't respond to these harsh accusations! One by one everyone turned away, even the fire department turned away once the job was done. This cul-de-sac of joyous friendly neighbors had turned against the little girl who never spoke much but did as she was told. Always a dreamer, they said about her. And where were those syrupy words now? Alice rummaged through what was left of the homes and bodies of her parents.

    "This is where the living room was." A hollowed body of a plush couch remained blackened with haste on the dead shag carpet. Following old footsteps she made her way to a crumbling kitchen filled with destruction and the scent of flesh. Knifes were melted but one remained in her path. A lone police officer was monitoring Alice's every move and caught wind of her devious plan. "It's my fault." She tore through skin that shredded with utter ease. The sight of blood itself was far too much for little Alice to handle, for she collapsed into the rubble and craggy counters of yesteryear. The police officer rescued her from her gorey demise and off she went to the lovely wonderland known as the mental institution.

Ignorance is bliss.

    She comes to me in the dead of night, sobbing softly into her precious pallid palms. Her eyes are like space crystals, blue as oceans from the world we inhabit. I stroke her gently so she may know that I am there for her. "What's the matter?" I implore her, explore her. Then and there we intertwined like vines. My arms were swaying with hers ever so smoothly and her legs were strangling mine and throbbing tightly.

    But just like that, she disappears from me, as quickly as she had come. It pains me to know that I can hear her crying deep into the night and no matter how far I run or how long I go into the abyss, she will never be mine. Tainted by lovers with their velvet gloves that abuse, she cannot trust or love another. I held her hand through all of these years but she will not accept me. I am teased by her constantly.

    I lay, decaying in the darkness, when comes a knock at my bedroom door. Too tired to open it and far too aching to move, I beg them to come in with a hoarse voice. My throat clears itself from the frog that was stuck in between its walls and I beckon the stranger to move closer into the moonlight seeping from the shudders. It's her, my darling. She's garbed in a teddy and hot pants and she stands there like a school girl looking for her classrooms. Now in my web, I sit up to get a better glimpse.

    "Lucia, come near."

    Lucia does as she's told; the sweet sashaying movements make my brain turn to primordial goo. "They say around the way, you've asked for me," her mouth is all I can think of when she talks. It's like a cooling faucet that drips with moans and quiet breaths. I grew close to all my thoughts of leaving forever once I knew she'd come to turn me down again, but tonight was fresh; tonight was young. "And around the bend, I've asked for you." She leaned in, I leaned in farther.

    Her lips parted slightly so I made my entrance. Each crack in her bottom lip made me quake with pleasure. I couldn't help but whisper the joy of this pain into her ear. On my ear lobe she nibbled and it tickled. I let out a gasp of excitement and my hands pressed down on her back. It was smooth but sticky with the feeling of lotion. The aroma was like gumdrops on my nose. I let my own tongue travel into her mouth and wrestled with hers. She pulled back and giggled, poking me with her rather long nails. "I've been waiting for this my whole life, and I never let it show."
   
    At least my dearest admits it. Goosebumps travel down my sides as we curl up under the covers together, she's now crawled into the bed with me. I love her, she'll never quite comprehend how much either. Ah, well, I've got her now.

Sorry guys, but unwanted visitors have been wandering in, making themselves known D:
But if you comment here on this post asking to be added, I'd love to add ya and let you read! This journal is rarely for boring rambles anymore, but rather writing! :] If you like to read prose, poetry, or prosetry then this blog is for you!

Ciao, loves!