blood, guts, and angel cake (the circe chronicals)

Circe Murdock had failed.

One thing you could say about the promising young bastard was the only thing she ever did halfway was her parents’ custody.

Not only did Circe fail, but she had also failed like her father had never seen his children fail before. Perhaps she had approached the simulation with an amount of narcissism that would make even the namesake himself worrisome. She was once so convinced of her own greatness, she forgot to ever doubt her own hard work was not enough to beat anything close to raw talent.

The failure at first was numb. There was nothing left for her to feel as she roamed the world in an altered state so close to death. Circe would have opened her arms wide embracing death as she struggled to understand the horrid feeling of empty. Glassy eyes as she walked past her fathers piercing stare, not once looking up to meet his gaze. He must hate her. She was sure of that; the idea was planted in her head growing slowly as it leeched its way through her suffering.

Is this what her mother had felt?

Oh, how she hoped the feeling would go away, to sympathize with her mother might have been a crime she would have never forgiven herself for (wretched bitch).

In the end after all was said and done, she would board the train alongside the rest of her siblings with her tail between her legs. Her return back to four would be far less victorious than she had planned. In her mind there was a world where Nicky would have been standing at the platform with flowers in his hands. She should have known better than to think Uncle Nicky of all people would bring her flowers, but the little girl he tried to save still existed in her purest of forms. Thinking about it made her want to puke. Then stab herself. Then puke again.

Pull it together.

There was no warm greeting awaiting her. Instead, a bark from her father to quickly get moving (of course only when no one else would be able to hear).

The summer would soon come, and Circe would find herself trapped in a tavern filled with drunk sailors unable to tell left from right. Her half siblings would take the heat of their miserable performance while she would escape to the sea. Her sweet voice leaving the glass halls of the mansion ringing with her siren song.

When days became short, she would return once again.

Circe’s father never forgetting the shame she had brought to the Murdock name. Her mother’s scent all over her clothes would only add fuel to fire that would be her father’s fury.

How long could she hold her breath this time?

What if, just for once….she would be enough?

There was no time for such silly thoughts. If only she could switch it all off, the regret, the shame, the self-loathing, the misery, the embarrassment. Oh to feel numb once more.

”Tienes que mantener la cabeza en alto”

No one would believe a pretty girl too busy staring at the ground. Her mother taught her well enough that the shiniest of treasures were not found rotting in the dirt. She had to reach for the sky, aim to drink wine out of golden chalices with the gods.

That is the real meaning of immortality.