Living the fucking Fairytale
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Sep 11th, 2008 - #53.6 Ruins
cinderfuckinrella: (Default)
A fairytale in ruins.

It should have been a fairytale. Countless childhood dreams had long since been discarded, but not this. This she had clung to through everything, her one remaining innocence. If it were to happen, there would be swans, champagne and decadence. Of this, she was certain, for she had promised herself.

A silk train would glide effortlessly behind her, a rainbow mosaic of ever shifting reflections dancing in its wake as the sun filtered through magnificent stained glass. Towering floral arrangements would flood the room with their opulence and scent. This would be her moment. That magical moment where not a soul in the room would fix their gaze anywhere but on her.

And once, just once, no matter how fleeting, it would be they who wished for her life.

Yet here she stood, at his agitated insistence, amidst a morbid flurry of chaotic activity wearing torn silk and clutching a battered spray of crimson rose and stained bent lilies.

The rainbow had been shattered by vengeance. Tiny splinters and cruel shards of glass glistened on the empty seats, toppled floral arrangements sparkled on the floor with their murderous confetti. Pillars had fallen, crushed limbs lay trapped. The violins had ceased, and in their place a cacophony of pain and barked orders as salvage commenced. Death and destruction surrounded them.

"I do." She whispered somberly, then blood stained lips kissed her. A kiss so passionate, so en-flamed, so roused that she could not match it and barely felt it.
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