Fiona Belli, age nineteen, stood trembling in the darkened cathedral. A cathedral was a place of God, a place where she should feel safe. But no, not in this particular nightmare. Fiona, unfortunate and hapless Fiona, was running from just about everyone on the castle grounds. It seemed as if every animate being on the premise wanted the busty blond dead. From Debilitis, the castle 'care taker' one might say, had the mind of a toddler and the body of a deranged killer, to Daniella, the living doll.
Ah… Daniella. Perfect, superlative Daniella with her pearl white skin, so flawless, yet cold to the touch. Poor Daniella, being alchemically created, she was not human. She could not feel, nor taste, nor experience pleasure. In Daniella's own words, she was made to be perfect, but was not complete. It was, in fact, Daniella herself that Fiona had been trying to escape from this time. Thus: how our endearing (yet completely helpless) Fiona came to be in this darkened cathedral, this abomination of a holy place.
Click, clack, click clack. Fiona shuddered at the echo of Daniella's heels on the cold marble of the cathedral floor. Slowly, ever so slowly, Daniella's head, then shoulders, rose into view as she ascended the steps. Mussed though her lilac hair was, it was still beautiful, nonetheless. Her uniform splattered with blood and dirt appeared shocking against the white apron, while blending easily with the dark green dress.
There the two women stood. Daniella, cold and stoic, a large shard of glass clutched in her bleeding, unfeeling hand. Fiona, trembling with fear, backed into a corner. Giggled erupted from Daniella, low at first, the escalating into a maniacal cackle. Advancing on the girl, Daniella held out the shard of glass to admire. She grinned wildly, her cold eyes raging with the intent to kill, she kissed the glass, making sure to cut her lips in the process.
A vain attempt to feel pain, perhaps. Daniella had come to kill. And yes, kill she would. Sauntering toward her prey, Daniella smiled sinisterly. Her laughter, maddened and disturbed, rang true throughout the church's high ceiling.
Laughing led way to jerking, as Daniella kept her steady (if shaky) progress toward Fiona. Her head wrenched back violently enough to give her whiplash (if she had been human, that is). In fact, her entire upper torso went into convulsions. As if having a seizure, Daniella twisted and writhed, laughing all the while.
Finally, within arms length, Daniella lurched forward. The usual, innate grace that came with her being a living mannequin was all but forgotten.
Her pretty face was contorted, twisted into a look of triumph. A woman sure, she would not fail She had all the appearance of an avenging angel, though she was no angel, not by far.
Scratching Fiona with the very end of the glass, she paused to look at her blood at the tip. She smiled; she looked elated as she licked the coppery liquid from the diamond like shard. Her large, soulless eyes gleamed, what seemed to be tears gathered in them, except… they weren't tears. It was blood, crimson and glistening against her pale, pale skin.
She was malfunctioning. She was breaking. Daniella, the doll… the lifeless mannequin. The alchemic creation that was never really alive was dying. Dying without feeling pain, or pleasure. Dying without feeling human. And no one deserved that.
So, Daniella lifted the glass shard to strike Fiona again, twitching and bleeding. Fiona couldn't help but feel a pang of pity, sadness, even, for this woman not unlike herself. No one deserved what she got, no one.
She was not human. She was not alive. She was dying.
(A/N: This was written in 8th grade for a descriptive essay, we had to describe a scene from a movie -the fact that I chose a game, and changed parts of that game… my teacher will never know. Ha.- I got a 93 on this from a teacher who has only ever given 80's before, so I was extremely pleased. If you have qualms about the structure or how strange the language seems, swallow them now. This was edited by three certified language arts teachers- there isn't a grammatical mistake here. I used longer sentences back to back with short, choppy sentences to create a feeling of distress and confusion.
Rant over! Thanks for reading, please review! This is done, complete, don't ask me to write more. I won't. But I will, however, take requests. Have at it, then!)