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All created stories have to follow . We do not allow any sexually related material. The Doll Palace will be enforcing this rule and completely blocking access to the accounts that disregard our policy and create sexually oriented stories.
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Hi, my name is Carolina
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 | Cutting Edge [01] |
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 4.6 with 10 vote(s)
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| Created: 2009-02-01 20:19:57 |
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::I TOLD YOU I WOULD CONTINUE THIS. xD::
“Get the door, would you?” Terry called as I walked down the hallway.
I stopped at the living room door and looked inside at the hideous décor that hasn’t been changed since 1986. Terry was lying down now, a tangle of blankets that didn’t match the furniture pulled around her as she stuffed chips in her mouth, getting crumbs all over the cushion.
“You just relax and watch your Dateline NBC.” I rolled my eyes and walked toward the front door. The volume of the TV turned up, to my annoyance.
The hallway had a mediocre orange paint job about three years after I was born, twelve years ago. The hallway floor was fake hardwood, this cheap plastic stuff that is too soft and light to be real. The real floor was stiff and cold and dirty, with that fake hardwood stuff rolled over it like a carpet. I always thought it looked stupid, and it wasn’t fooling anyone.
I stood in front of the poorly painted blue front door. My shaking hand was raised over the doorknob, not sure if I wanted to grab it or walk away. A voice called to me from the top of the stairs and put the decision off for a few seconds.
“North Carolina!” Little Brother Timmy screamed from the top of the stairs, as if I was deaf and couldn’t hear him if he just simply spoke the words. He, of course, used that stupid nickname he always called me.
“What?” I snapped.
“Who is it?” He called. “Is it the pizza guy? I ordered food.”
Timmy is nine but he has been ordering food out ever since Mom died. Dad used to try to make chicken but it always tasted like cardboard. He tried to make rice but it ended up like soup. Terry is an okay chief but she eats all the food herself. So it’s every man for his or herself around here.
I looked back at the door.
It’s just the pizza delivery man. It’s fine. It’s not those weird commercial people. How could it be them? I just called a minute ago. It would be physically impossible for them to show up here. That commercial was just a stupid scam someone made as a joke.
“Carolina!” Timmy stopped his foot. “Just answer the freaking door! Why are you just standing there like a dork?”
“Shut up, Timmy, or I’ll stuff you in the garbage disposal.” I hissed.
I pulled the door open and was blinded by a flash of light.
It was like waking up in the morning and turning on the lights. It was like the sunshine on the snow, except the snow was everywhere in my vision. It was so bright and white that I had to squint and shield my eyes with my hands.
My eyes finally adjusted. I looked around but there was nothing to see but that same whiteness, like I was drowning in the snow, or I fell inside of a piece of paper.
Everything was nothingness, just a blank slate that I happened to be standing in the middle of. Look up, down, side, to side, and there is a total lack of color, an absence of everything.
And suddenly the whiteness started to dissolve, like water splashed on the edges of a paper. It melted away and the color returned; everything was back, like the strange thing that just happened never actually did.
But when the whiteness disappeared, something changed.
When I was a kid, I always dreamed of having this really spectacular house, like the others in our neighborhood. I wanted brilliant mahogany floors that reflected the light from big, amazing crystal chandeliers that hung from high ceilings. Every surface would shine like they were polished every second. The railings would match the floors, and the walls would match the snowmen me and my mother would make in the winter, out in the backyard.
I think I might have just stepped into that fantasy world I always daydreamed about.
The walls were suddenly pearly white and overflowing with paintings. The entire hallway smelled like cookies and sounded like happy, classical music playing in a distant room. The stairs gleamed as bright as the floor, which shined under what I assumed to be chandeliers, but I wasn’t sure because I never actually saw one up close.
I ran into the living room. The floor was smooth mahogany and the walls were the color of vanilla ice cream. A bay window took up the center wall and silky white curtains opened up to the view of apple trees around the side of the house. An antique coffee table sat on a plush white rug. A grand piano was in the corner and a small little radio on top of that, the source of the music.
“Hello?” I called to anyone who could hear me. “Terry? Timmy?”
“Carolina! Pleased to see you,”
Two figures stood by the bay window.
The first one was levitating in the air, its head nearly touching the ceiling. Its skin was a deep violet, with scales climbing up short, scrawny arms. Little fins protruded up its hunched back and continue up the back of its head, by two inward-curling horns. Fuchsia eyes glowed inside a small, ratty face, and canine teeth jutted out of black gums.
The second figure was almost a shadow; just a black silhouette. Its body was hidden underneath a black cloak that hugged every inch of skin, if it even had any skin.
I couldn’t scream because the shock was choking me. Horror crawled under my skin at the sight of the two monstrous things.
“You look so surprised!” A thin, hoarse voice said in a high-pitched tone. The purple creature was speaking to me. “Cutting Edge, at your service, Carolina.”
When I didn’t answer right away, the shadow-person spoke up in a voice like thousands of rolling marbles.
“You wanted us to change your life, and so we did.” The voice rumbled. “Isn’t this what you always wanted?”
“Carolina!” My father’s voice called. “Dinner’s ready!”
The two figures disappeared.
The dining room table was no longer covered with coats, junk mail, backpacks, screwdrivers and other senseless objects. It wasn’t the same old, wobbly blue table with the chipping corners that used to be there.
In fact, the entire dining room was different.
The cluttered counters and broken sinks were gone. A sliding screen door gave view to the backyard and the entire room was large and vacant, except for the long, elegant table and the tall mahogany chairs to match it.
We were so out of place in the large, amazing room. The chairs were designed for the upper class; people who dressed like a politician’s family, or a literal politician’s family. They were made for people who took class and grace very seriously.
Timmy had his knees up on the chair, resting against the edge of the table, as he was dressed lazily in baggy superhero pajama bottoms and a tee-shirt stained with grape juice. Dad was home, for once, and wasn’t out attempting to sell cars or in class. He was wearing a blue tee-shirt and sweats, slouching in his seat. Terry had her curly blonde hair pulled sloppily into a bun at the top of her head to hide the fact that she hadn’t showered or brushed her hair today.
The table was made for porcelain plates and deluxe silverware. We had flimsy paper plates and plastic forks underneath goopy stuff that looked like it should be mashed potatoes. Dad obviously was the one who cooked it. It looked like the stuff the lunch ladies at school make.
The house was extravagant and wonderful, the kind of house I wished I grew up in. But this family, for lack of a proper word, was still less-than-mediocre.
I dropped the plastic fork and ran up the glossy mahogany stairs to my bedroom.
It was better than before, just like everything else in the house. The walls were as blue as a clear sky, with a huge canopy bed by the window covered with downy blue comforters and overflowing with decorative pillows. There was a shiny white vanity in the corner, cluttered with little bottles of perfume that cost more than my father’s beat-up Volkswagen.
A giant blue wardrobe I never had before was in the corner. I pulled open the doors to see all of my old clothes: torn up jeans, unusually colored skirts, and vintage shirts. I slammed the closet doors shut. When I turned around, there They were.
This time I screamed.
“Don’t scream, Carolina,” The scaly creature with the high, raspy voice was crawling up the wall like a spider. It stuck its clawed hands on the ceiling and hung there, staring at me with beady pink eyes.
“How do you like the new décor?” The shadow-man waved his hand around, gesturing to the room. “What you’ve always wanted.”
“Yeah,” I shrugged amiably. “It’s really nice. I love it.”
“South Carolina!” My bedroom door rattled as Little Brother Timmy pounded on it with his fist on the other side. “SOUTH CAROLINA!”
“What do you want Timmy?” I screeched, clenching my fist.
“Terry wants to see your homework!” Timmy yelled.
“I didn’t do my freaking homework!” I yelled back.
“Then you’re in trouble!”
“Ugh!” I stormed toward the canopy bed and dove on top of it. I grabbed a slippery satin pillow and squeezed it violently, pretending it was Terry’s throat. “Why does Dad date that futile beast of a human? Why can’t he have a normal girlfriend?”
“I’ll tell her you said that.” Timmy’s voice laughed from the hall.
“Go ahead!” I shrieked. “She’s lazy, she’s stupid, and she’s a total gold-digger! She’s useless! All she does is watch Oprah! Why couldn’t dad have a really kick a’ss girlfriend who dresses like a Japanese teenager and watches Fuse, and cooks really awesome exotic food, and doesn’t care if I don’t do my friggon homework? And why is Dad always so sloppy? Why doesn’t he just graduate already?”
“Well,” The low voice of the shadow-man said. “If that’s what you want.”
I lifted my head from the pillow. My face felt hot like I had been running around, and my hair was a mess.
Somewhere downstairs, glass shattered.
“Now look what you did! Breaking things again!” My Dad yelled.
“You’ve been calling some hooker!?” Terry screeched.
“She’s not a hooker!” Dad yelled back.
Something crashed again.
“Her name is Kimberly!”
I got up, dashed out of the room and down the hall to the top of the stairs. I crouched down on the stairs and watched as Terry stormed down the front hallway to the front door. The front door wasn’t that ugly blue color anymore. It was large and white with a rectangular window at the top.
Terry swung the door open and was about to stomp out of the house but stopped when she saw another girl blocking the doorway, standing on the porch, smiling.
She was quite possibly the coolest chick I ever saw in my entire life. She was wearing a black plaid skirt with red heart-dotted knee highs under hot pink goulashes; a white blouse and a heart-dotted tie, with brown hair pulled up in a shimmering, lime colored clip. She twirled a little pink umbrella around in her hands, though it was a cloudless night.
“Hey,” She said softly, peaking around Terry, inside the doorway. “I’m Kimmy. Is Mike here?”
Whoa. Mike? No one ever calls my dad Mike. Everyone knows him as Michael. Not even my mom called him Mike.
“I’m right here, Kimberly.” My dad stepped behind Terry. “I’ll be out in a second.”
“Oh, Mike, stop it. Call me Kimmy.” She smiled.
Terry spun around on her heels and glared at my dad with arctic-cold blue eyes.
“I’ll be at my mother’s house. Until I can find a place of my own.” Terry crossed her arms. “I’ll be picking up my things tomorrow.”
“Good. I don’t want your stuff contaminating my house.” My dad snapped.
Way to go, Dad.
Speaking of house, did anyone else notice the drastic change in the house’s interior?
Terry pushed past the rockstar-looking chick on the porch and ran down the front steps, in her pajama bottoms and tee-shirt. She ran across the lawn and climbed into her Chevy. A few seconds later the engine started up and she took off down the dark road.
“That was…awkward.” Kimmy laughed.
“I’m sorry about that.” My Dad said.
He looked different. He actually bothered to shave and his blue eyes were brighter, and he looked about six years younger than his age of 35. His brown hair was sticking up and he wore a silky black jacket over a nice white shirt and black dress pants.
“Carolina,” My Dad looked up at me, from where I was crouching on the stairs. Apparently, I wasn’t as invisible as I wanted to be. “I’m sorry you had to see that, but…Terry and I are over.”
“VICTORY!” I roared, pumping my fist in the air.
“Come down for a minute?” He asked.
I raced down the stairs and practically slid across the floor in my socks.
“Timmy!” Dad called up the stairs.
A few seconds later, Timmy appeared. The earpiece to his Xbox live game was in his ear.
“I wanted to make it a surprise for you guys, but I guess I should just say it.” Dad smiled. “I’m free. I’m done with law school; I’ve been done for a few days now. I’m a full fledged lawyer now.”
Timmy whooped in happiness and excitement and rushed down the stairs. He jumped on Dad, throwing his arms around him.
“Now you’re gonna be rich!” Timmy shouted. “And you can get me that new Xbox game!”
Dad chuckled and mussed up Timmy’s hair before placing him down on the floor.
“Guys, this is Kimmy.” Dad gestured to the door, where Kimmy was still standing, rubbing her arm.
“Hey,” Kimmy smiled.
“We’re going out for a celebratory dinner. I’ll bring back takeout.” Dad walked out onto the porch. Before pulling the door shut, he added, “I’ll be back late.”
I flew back up the stairs, down the hall and into my room, excitedly slamming the door behind me, unable to contain the feeling.
The scaly creature and the shadow-man were in my room when I got there.
“What are your names?” I asked.
“My name is Obscure.” The shadow-man raised his arm and waved his hand around him, gesturing at nothing.
“My name is Manifest.” The scaly thing said.
“You guys…are the best.” |
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