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Rated: E · Fiction · Dark · #1849657
An inanimate's fickle observations of Cease and her plight.
Story Progress:  Although entered for a contest (like a few other works) I was suddenly swamped with obligations and so no editing occurred past initial entry.  This has been moved to the top of my list for future revisions and development.  Thank you kindly!


         Cease sat nearby in a rather plain, wooden straight-back chair. With a brusque movement she arranged herself before her best friend, the computer screen, and tucked her legs beneath.  Ugh! The screen was such an attention hog!  A bit of sun shone through the mesh and barred windows.  It was a day like any other.  Of late, Cease was a nuisance, a terror! Not that anyone particularly cared.  My purpose is not so ground-breaking as to warrant a fuss, but my implications should have been enough.  She growled impatiently during the half-second the monitor required initializing.  Cease continues to verify my observations, a sad, worrisome girl.

         Cease Clout wrought her own misfortune, believing all the luxuries and suppositions formed beneath her family’s tender attention, all their attempts to conceal the nature of the world from her were suitably the only explanation in her mind.  It would be very convenient for Her Majesty if those paintings of the world were true and the entire world sat in awe of her delicate prancing, easy smile, and fortuitous treasures bestowed by unknown Prince Charming.  They were lies.  It was that simple.  I knew her family.  They were very good people and I was quite pleased with my situation until, one day, I found myself trapped in this bland room with Miss Radiance.  The room was furnished strictly, a bed with a white cotton comforter, a chair with a rounded back, a small rounded table on which sat the computer, a marble floor patterned with stars, and a small camera up in the corner by the slightly ajar wooden door.  Well, perhaps they were protective parents, too much so. 

         Cease was by no means a creature of physical or social bearing.  She’d erupt on even the kindest heart and her physical qualities more closely resembled a marshmallow puff than a swan.  I must admit, with a black toupee, beady brown eyes, and a fat, flat nose of a pig, her conduct may not be entirely due to her obliviousness.  A book’s cover is not always false advertising.  I do not believe she would be such an atrocious display if she tried to discipline her diet.  Cease’s wardrobe consisted of a white gown with small brown puppies arrayed in uniform print and light-blue cotton pants. I've yet to witness Cease in possession of shoes, but she did have an outlandish obsession with socks.

         A stout hand clamped over my frame.  Thick sausages squeezed tight as dull, expressionless eyes gushed with tears.  I prepared myself for the inevitable.  Last time, she cracked my frame. I’m not made of steel!  The injury may be the herald of my next, and final, moment.  Hopefully she avoids a rage.  I recognized all of the indicators and it filled me with dread.  I desired nothing more than to express my contempt before the end!

         Luckily, one of the kind-hearts walked in.  Fates be praised! She was an attractive brunette of exquisite form.  It presented a perfect contrast between an hourglass swan and Cease.  The kind-heart gently touched Her Majesty.  Cease immediately spun in the chair.  I was sure my demise had come.  The prissy heifer’s hamburger-bun lips compressed until they were nothing more than a thin, expressionless line.  Kind-heart was about to receive an earful if she did not vacate the area immediately.   

         “Are you okay, honey?  You look upset.”

         The most unusual thing happened.  Instead of berating the Kind-heart for sticking her pert nose into Cease’s slop trough, I was cautiously handed over.  I was stunned.  Kind-heart caressed my scar and studied my baggage.  She was clearly distraught.  Needless to say, I do not think I’m as horrendous as that!  Not-so-kind-heart was trying to compose herself.  I was missing something.

         “Oh, child!  I’m so sorry.  We didn’t know you took this out of the storage closet!  Oh, Sweetheart…”

         Kind-heart swallowed Cease in a loving embrace.  These emotions were disconcerting.  My appearance had upset them.  That was not a good sign.  When people become upset things tend to disappear – forever.

Cease sniffed, “I – I miss them.”

         Kind-heart broke down to tears and hugged Cease even tighter.  Just then, another woman entered.  A tall buxom blonde in a white overcoat and expensive-looking glasses; the word scientist came to mind.  She approached confidently and brushed Cease’s cheek.

         “I’m glad to see you’re finally expressing yourself, Cease.  If you want, Miss Rebecca can talk to you about anything, okay?”

         “H-how’d they…?”

         The confident woman sighed.  She took a knee before Cease and said, “You already know the answer to that, Cease.  You were there.  You went to the funeral.  You were adopted by your grand-parents and, after attacking them, you were brought here.”

         “NO! They’re not dead! NO!”

         The foolish woman angered her!  She may have been doing her job, but I had to suffer the consequences.  My demise wasn’t acceptable.  She’d best change her tone.

         Instead, she snatched me up.  With a stern face she waved me in front of Cease who strained to snatch me back.  Wait – if Cease worried about my well-being, what was the blonde going to do?  Fear was an understatement.  I may not be much more than a decoration, but I offer memories, art, and perspective.  This treatment was uncalled for!

         “I don’t know how you got this, but until you face why you’re here I have no choice but to put this away.”

         -Away?-

         “No!  It’s mine.  Give it back.”

         -Yeah, give me back!-

         “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.  When you get better I promise this will be waiting for you, okay?”

Cease broke down into helpless sobs, “P-please… giv… ack…”

         “I’m sorry, dear one.”

         With that, I was carried away to a large box of assorted possessions.  The blonde gave me a few extra moments of light as she frowned down at me.  I had decided she was much uglier than I originally assessed.  Her pelican beak of a nose could use a plastic surgeon’s fine hand.  Before I could decide a proper description for her wretched eyes, the box closed.  It closed and I was alone.  Alone and threatened by painful memories forever.

         Cease did not deserve that treatment.  I was harsh in my former assessment, I admit.  Sweet, young tortured Cease.  Blood on her hand and weapon nearby, but that was not enough evidence I heard whispered by the others mounted in the hall.  No one really knows who had done it.  Their deaths were most dreadful and even Cease had purportedly shown physical signs of abuse.  I had been curious what the rotund police officer indicated as I have never seen a mark upon her.  Her desperate whispers at night of “mommy,” and “daddy,” were apparent and profound.  Sometimes she would rock with her head in the pillows and froth, “Stop! No!” or say something akin to, “I don’t want to play doctor…please daddy?”

         Her beady eyes always used to venture to that mesh window and she’d adopt a small toothless smile.  If I could smile I would, too.  To dream of a thing we will never have.  Freedom.



Word count: 1178
© Copyright 2012 Achilles Asheelz (virtuosity325 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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