pErfeCtion
Here, things are happy and bright and colourful. Nothing is wrong with this world because it is perfect. Pretty lullabies play all day and children forget about all the horrid, nasty things because they never happen in this world. This world is MAGIC. Just like Alice. Alice is MAGIC. She knows she is because she can help people become perfect just like the rest of her perfect world.
Everyone has to be perfect in her world and if they are not perfect then Alice can fix them because Alice can fix anyone.
Wonderful smells and sounds of cooking food and children laughing. Alice did that, she fixed it so that they do that.
So when visitors come, her world is so perfect and Alice is so good at fixing things, they never go home. She walks around her perfect world and says hello to people but, of course, they'd never answer back: their mouths open in a gormless stare. Alice giggles at this and walks on. Sometimes she'd catch a glimpse of fly resting on left out food or a stained table cloth or a rusty knife or a purple limb on the ground or a skeletal cat following her or their dead lifeless eyes watching her, boring into her, hating her – loathing her – the sullen eyes screaming out but they can't because they're perfect now. They're so perfectperfectperfectPERFECT.
Then she looks again and it is not there. Just her imagination, her silly, silly imagination playing tricks on her again.
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and checks for perfection, her pretty blue dress had the odd spatter of a red liquid and her hair may be sticky with the same stuff but it is all to make her world perfect. It is all worth it in the end because her world is perfection. A Perfect Wonder Land.
But when he came, he didn't see perfection: he didn't smell cooking food and he didn't hear laughing children. He smelt rotting corpse and he heard screaming, crying children. He saw the flies on the meat and he saw the stained tablecloth. He saw the rusty knife and the hacked off limbs, thrown to the ground. He saw the cat stalking her, a sly grin carved into his face and he saw the eyes.
All the eyes, so many of them. They burned his soul and scarred his heart. Large, purple gaping holes of longing and sadness. Darkness shielded them from the light but he could still see it.
Some were sitting at tables, some were heaved over tables. All with the same, watchful eyes, begging for help.
But he couldn't help these people.
Because Alice fixed him.
xox
an: yay! i hope you enjoyed this even tho it's a bit weird... um, yes, so please please please review - pleeease!