Thread: Princess Park

Princess Rainbow stands in black Life and light will not come back. Hide and run, hide and run She'll have your soul before the night is done. David looked behind him, the last of the hole in the shrubbery was closing as the branches and vines weaved their way back together. Once the last branch was in place the rusting stopped, leaving him in silence again. The air was even worse inside the hedge, stale with something mixed in it, like a miasma that clung to him making him feel dirty. Coating him with a pollen that reeked of despair and decrepitude, wiping his hands on his pants in a futile gesture. Outside the park a hot Florida sun had been out, and with the run across the parking lot, and through the thick slime of the river could not have taken more than a half hour. Counting up the minutes, including his rushed climb through the hedge and it had to be not even midafternoon, yet at the gate of the park it was twilight. The air had a strained glow running through it. The sign above the gate looked as if it might fall if he breathed the wrong way. Letters rested askew in the arch, the colors of the rainbow behind it were muted, various shades of grey showed behind large metallic letters. The Second S in Princess was covered in something, whatever it was ran down in streaks, as if a thick paint had been put on the upper edge and left to run down its length. It brought a slight chill to David, worse than the dogs had, his body shook with a wave of goose flesh. Remembering the dogs he looked down to the tear in his pants cuff, no holes or marks in either leg, other than the one ripped cuff. Lucky bastard, he said in a hush, respecting the somnambulance of the park. Calming himself walked through the gates, leaping over a turnstile, afraid on a subconscious level of trying to use the mechanism. A subtle fear ran through him to let whatever was here know that David had come. On that same subconscious level David was aware that whatever was in the park, already knew. The bricks underneath his feet were coated with something, splashes of dark paint gleamed wetly on the bricks before him. Kneeling and rubbing his finger on the bricks wiped away the grey layer, beneath gold colored pain glinted for a moment then seemed to dull. A silent wind blowing the dust back onto the bricks, as if annoyed at his uncovering of the bricks beneath his feet. Follow the yellow brick road, he whispered to himself. The area past the gate was all shops, and like most amusement parks a place to get customers to spend their money, but all related to girly things. A spa parlor offering pedicures, a hair salon, an information booth that looked as if a gigantic hammer had fallen to crush it into the ground, an ice cream parlor with no glass in its panes and a costume shop. Looking in each shop or store it was like the aftermath of a riot. Inside each shop the contents were strewn about, as if in a fit of anger with the floor littered with whatever had been in the shops. Broken glass from the windows were mixed with broken bottles of perfume, make up kits, ripped bags and dresses with gauze and lace trim sliced and showered on top like candy on a sundae. The costume shop had a motion inside, David stilled and slowly looked in, the shop was empty, racks of clothes thrown about, the costumes mostly shredded but it was the murals on the walls that drew his attention. Courtiers dressed up in fantasy-themed finery were painted along with other figures that looked as as if they were playing cards, all of them Hearts. Faces were either scratched out, the spacing like human hands as David put his hand up against the marks in the plaster, or in the case of some the faces were covered with a glistening dark paint that had a metallic smell. A few looked as if they were burned, as if some great heat was behind the paint and made it bubble and burn. Some figures has a fancy script underneath, the Guardsman, the Knave, and a figure that seemed to glow, an older woman holding a tea tray, the Matron. On the back wall was a large cloth hanging, that oddly undulated as if something was breathing behind it. The hanging had in the center a fanciful caste and the words, The Princess and her Court written in italic script. Below the castle were the heads and shoulders of five princesses, the faces cut or ripped out and above the castle one princess whose clasped hands and ball gown were visible but the face was sliced across, down and diagonally, the face and head long missing but behind David could see the edges of letters painted. Lifting the hanging he saw the words painted on the wall, the same metallic taint assaulted his nostrils as he saw the letters glisten, the paint fresh and dripping. Only now realizing that this, and the other splashes of paint, were not paint. It was blood. On the wall he read the words, Princesses...abandoned by GOD! The words seemed to have something rising from them, it was that which caused the hanging to move. Dropping the hanging with nervous hands turned slowly as the hairs on the back of his neck rose. A sigh of excitement sounded behind him, turning saw an older woman standing at the door. Her dress old and ragged, exposing part of her abdomen and most of her left leg up to her thigh. Across her buxom chest the cloth was ripped to expose her right breast, the skin full and white, with a white nipple showing and getting harder as she looked upon him. Her clothes matched those of the Matron, the ripped material of the corset hanging off her midsection, the sleeves of her dress ripped and flowing. A splatter of blood across her clothes, exposed breast, and leg. The sliced skin and stabbing wounds leaking blood in a never ending flow. Her skin seemed full, ripe but bloodless. The skin glowing white under the colorless grey cast of the dress. Her eyes were deepset and ringed by dark rings, as she looked at him, her head and arms jerked, as she moved towards him. Like a film where small parts were missing she lurched forward, her lips curled outwards, black lipstick revealing blackened gums and tongue. Another one for tea, her voice was hollow, hushed as she came forward. A tea tray holding a pot and china cup set on saucer that never fell as the tray tilted from side to side. In front of him he could only smell the decay and age from her, her dusty perfume faded and smelling of dried, nameless flowers with a scent of soured milk. Her hand pointed as David was pressed against the wall, her hand snaking into his pants that seemed to erupt under her gaze Slim fingers grabbing his cock, the cold, firm hands grasped him. Princesses like tea. Milk tea. Need more, empty eyes stared at him as her hand stroked him sensuously, firm nails digging into his sensitive flesh, milk.