pansy carver - [d5] - finished

I can't decide which one of us will leave here alive
Your fingers breaking as I place them over mine
The only thing I need is time
To change your mind, I said

( a p p e a r a n c e -- ☆ )

I wish to be like a princess, to dress in fine robes and to have gold-fitted crowns on my small head. I desire to feel the silky fabric around my thin waist and to know what true love is like, I want to find my prince and ride away with him into the night. His blue eyes locked on mine and a small smile forming on his beautiful face;

I know that it would be perfect. Just in that one moment I could be royalty, I could feel the moon shining on only me and the affection from all of the people around me. Instead, I am left with a shard of glass to stare longingly into, my eyes blurring as my cold gaze persists the image of me to change into something more regal, a portrait of a lady.

It continues to stay the same though, reflecting back only my hallowed-in cheeks and strangely narrowed eyes. My small forehead is too high and my nose is too small, mum would always tell me that I looked like one of the elves from the storybooks.

[/i]She called me wise, tricky, cunning; I was the shadow runner, the girl that stuck to the darkness and watched the people suffer all around her, a mysterious grin on her face and high cheekbones tinted red from the cold air. I wish so much that she had said something differently, I wish she had told me I was the princess, I was the girl in the high tower.

I hate being the elf.[/color][/blockquote][/blockquote]

( p e r s o n a l i t y -- ☆ )

The light can help though, the flickering of the candle and the small beads of wax that drip steadily down the side -not to say that the brass is ugly-

the candle holder twirls in intricate patterns, a flower here and a twirl of metal over here. And yet, everything manages to keep its shape, to stay at the position of perfection. My favorite part is the soft glow that revolves around the flame and soaks through the darkness, grabbing it and telling it off. Light is the only thing that can penetrate the veil of black, nothing else is capable of such power; instead it resorts to blending in the with background unto which it is placed before. I want to be like the light, I want to shine up the world and show that there is more than ordinary things ( there's more than sameness )

[/i][/color]. It depends on a person's view, I just wish that more people could see it in the way that I do. If they could, I think all of them would begin to respect the power of the light, they would cherish it and hate it no more. Peace would reign and all darkness would be banished from the world. Unfortunately, this cannot happen. It never will.

Even so, if they did manage to rid the world of darkness, wouldn't the monsters still be there? No longer would they hide, more people would be killed everyday and maimed by the anger of the six-eyes beasts with the furred heads and lolling tongues. They are evil and live only to rip fear through human hearts, their jobs are sinful and have no meaning. I still don't understand though, why everyone denies seeing them whenever to point one out. Humans really want to be that oblivious to what is happening around them; so much that they persuade their minds into not seeing the monstrosities before their eyes. I hope that that Panem is smarter than that, for everyone's sake.

Going to the field, it is the only thing that can prohibit the creatures from entering my vision; the ugly balled-up monsters with their beady eyes and pale, fleshy feet. I hate looking at them, I wish that they would all just disappear into the air around me, such as the morning mist. [/i]Only when I'm in the lightly-fogged wheat fields do their repulsive odors fade from the air and their heads no longer show; they can't reach me when I'm streatchin' my arms out to spin in circles. In the field -my field- I am the princess that lives in the stories, I'm the lady fair.


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( h i s t o r y -- ☆ )

Dear My Darling Pansy,

I'm sure that you can remember the talk that me and your father had, I'm sure that you can still see our faces as you peak around that imaginary corner in your mind; the redness in our cheeks and the angry screams that bounced off of the walls and into your small ears.

I apologize dear, I'm so sorry for it all. I wish that it had never happened, I wish that it could've been averted some way or another. There was nothing to do though, you wouldn't understand. There were...complications between your father and I, it was going on too long. Once you find this note dear, be sure to hide it, don't ever show it to him. He never wanted you to know, he wanted to keep it a secret. I wanted you to live in the light though, to see the budding flowers of life and to shed the layer of innocence that lays over your beautiful little head. I"m sorry it had to be so sudden, i'll miss you, dear.

- Mum

I clutched the note to my chest, it was the only evidence that I ever had real a mother in the first place. the only reminder that I was still loved.

[/color]The only thing I can truly recall about her was the bright smile that was always on her face, the peaking brightness that she always gave off just by walking into a room. Its all I can recall, all I will ever be able to pull from my memories and the small, scribbled note that she left under my pillow. After that, I didn't even hear the sound of the door cracking shut as she left me for good, left me with father and another lady that had come in recently. I didn't like her, I still don't. Matilda will never be my mother, I will never claim to be her kin.

A drinker and a snob, that's who my father went to marry after the angel left, it's who he found happiness with. Sometimes I can't imagine how my real mum would have ever put up with him, his slurred words and vulgar phrases slipping out of his mouth. Matilda loves him though, him and her drinks that is. They are constantly reminding me that I'm no longer human, each in their own way.

While Matilda shoos me away with one flick of her wrist, father doesn't even look at me anymore.

Sometimes it feels like I'm a ghost, just an invisible figure that light is allowed to pass through. Slowly and steadily, I am turning and forming into one of those princesses, into the one with the cruel stepmother, into the one with a mother that locked her up. They are all the same, ain't they. And now I'm just becoming one of them, just an illusion stuck on parchment paper the rest of my dammed life. It will be better though, if I'm in a storybook at least I can be the princess.

No longer do I have to endure the mockery of being the elf.

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