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| Every doll has a story behind... |
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Want to try to make one or see what other people came up with?! Every story will participate in The Doll Palace ratings. Good stories will be awarded with Dollpoints.
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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 Hazel
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 | Irresistible -5- |
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 5 with 3 vote(s)
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| Created: 2009-07-16 18:34:08 |
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A/N: Sorry it took me so long, I am going to try harder at making new parts for my stories. And sorry about how boring it is...I am trying to get up to more exciting parts. Anyways, enjoy, and by the way, the doll is a picture of Hazel in her nightgown at the end of this (it was the best I could find).
I remember hearing my father screaming and screaming my name over and over again. I remember seeing the pale sky up ahead. I remember feeling someone take me off the ground and hold me so gently that I wanted to be there forever. I remember hearing that awful shrieking laughter, and knowing that for some reason, someone was dead. For a reason, yet for no reason either. I remember hearing my own mouth open, I remember wondering whether to scream or cry. I remember saying something over and over, but I do not remember what it was. And I remembered silence then. Silence, and the scent of blood so strongly around me that I thought I was in a pool of it. The smell of fresh blood trickling down some cold, lifeless corpse. And I remember the sorrow and grief that tore my heart apart then. Someone was dead. SOMEONE WAS DEAD! I remember fighting the darkness, trying to see again, and ultimately losing until I was no longer conscious…
I awoke in a candlelit room. Somehow I knew why I was there, and before I opened my eyes I knew that Darren was leaning on one of the walls in the room, watching me. As my eyes opened, I felt strangely calm, because I KNEW. I knew that my father was dead. I knew that someone had come to murder him. I knew that I had seen it, or at least heard it in some sort of bizarre way. I knew that now both my parents were dead, and Darren was the only person in the world I had anymore. Sure, I had relatives, but how could I truly trust them?
As I gazed at my irresistible lover leaning against the wall, his eyes on me in a thoughtful manner, all I could make myself say was, “Oh, Darren.” Then I sighed, and despite the pain it caused me sat up on the bed I had been laid upon. I hardly recognized my own room. I bet that if I had a mirror I would not even recognize my own face in it. I was probably all bloody and cut up. The back of my head throbbed where something had hit it.
When he did not reply, I rasped softly, “What happens now?” My voice sounded cracked and weak, and I felt like I was going to pass out any minute. I was calm, yet I was also weak, and I knew that I would not be able to really do anything for a while.
He just shook his head slowly. Whether he was saying he did not know or simply saving himself from having to respond, I did not know. Then, remembering that my father was dead, I closed my eyes and sobbed softly. I heard the noise of footsteps as Darren left the room.
I sat, suspended in silence and sorrow, for who knows how many hours after that. Finally, I heard someone come into the room. I lifted my head up and looked. It was definitely not Darren. After a second or two of thinking, I realized that it was my aunt, Julia Windpaine. She was my mother’s sister, and had probably decided to fly out here while my father and I were at the funeral. Now that my father was dead, it seemed good that she had come.
Her eyes met mine in a sad way. Neither of us had to say a word as she sat down on the bed beside me. After a few minutes of that silent connection, she got up and left. Later on she came back, less sad and told me to come and eat something, I must be starving. I obeyed, too numb by grief and sudden loss to argue or even say a word. I ate or drank whatever she put before me, hardly noticing the taste and the sensation of it sliding down my throat. When I was finished, she told me to put on some decent clothes and wash myself up then we would go shopping to get our minds off of things. Apparently the police had already come and she had talked to them. The cause of the murders of my mother and father were still undetermined.
I nodded and went back to my bedroom. I tore off my clothes, which were dirty and caked with dry blood. A few glass fragments from the window still clung to them. I looked in the mirror. My face had various cuts on it, as did my legs and arms. There was blood on all of these places, fresh and dried. The back of my head had a rather large bump on it and looked terrible, my hair in the area was matted with blood, some dry, and some still fresh, oozing out of the wound. After slipping away from the horrible appearance shown by the mirror, I took a shower, washing away all traces of dried blood. Afterwards, I felt refreshed, and brushed my hair and teeth. I put on fresh, clean clothes and bandaged up the back of my head and all of the cuts to try and keep the fresh blood from trickling out. I did not look ready to go out shopping afterwards, an odd, bandaged up sight. But, nevertheless, I followed Aunt Julia to her sleek, dark blue car and let her drive me to the mall.
After a tiring yet somehow relaxing day of shopping, I was glad to get home and change into a nightgown, slip into my bed and immediately fall asleep.
Snow flurries whirled in the air, catching on the snowy white feathers of my wide, outspread wings. Angling down, I concentrated my pale yellow gaze on the black-haired girl running through the forest, unaware that she was being watched. The girl was streaking through the forest as quickly as possible, obviously running desperately for her life.
Her pursuer, a grinning girl with blonde hair and bright green eyes, was catching up. She appeared to be extremely swift, only teasing the girl with the chance of escaping with her life. The girl seemed to be enjoying this.
The black-haired girl dared a glance back at her tormentor. Seeing that she had little chance of outrunning the grinning girl, she pressed forward in desperation, but unfortunately for her she did not possess the speed needed to get away. The other girl soon caught up with her and shoved the black-haired girl to the ground.
I watched with interest, circling overhead of the pair. Her grin widening, the blonde-haired girl struck the girl’s chest with a knife. She struck it again, the black-haired girl’s howls of pain only making her smile. After a third strike on the chest, the black-haired girl’s eyes gazed lifelessly forever up at the cloudy sky. Smiling triumphantly, the green-eyed girl stood up, pocketing the bloody knife. Then she spotted me.
Instantly she grabbed a bow and a quiver of arrows, and launched one straight at me. She had good aim, and the arrow struck home, sending me spinning out of control to the ground. I lay on the ground, pain shrieking through my body. The girl stood over me, grinning, as my life slipped away from me…
I woke up, screaming in agony. I was no longer a white bird, no blonde-haired, green-eyed girl stood over me grinning that had all been a dream. Yet here I lay on my bed, with an arrow sticking out of my chest… |
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