28.09.14 - err... okay.

i still can't believe i'm publishing this thing. i feel like a five-year-old girl on christmas day, haha.

i can't even call it story, since i blurted it out in twenty minutes and then spent the last hour checking if there were mistakesーand i'm pretty sure there are mistakes hidden there.

i'm not a native and this is my first story in english so, please, would you point out my errors? i really want to improve my grammar, and i'd be very glad to receive constructive criticism, yay :D

and... nothing. suzuya is my favorite character in the series and I wanted to write something about his childhood. yeah, he was quite wicked, poor thing :''

i hope i did him justice and that he wasn't ooc. any grammar mistakes, let me know :

uhm, i maybe could translate it in italian, who knows...?

carousel of death

One, two, buckle my shoe

Three, four, bolt the door

Five, six, a bag of tricks

Seven, eight, it's already too late.

[anya allyn - dollhouse]

Spidery and lanky shadows slither across the corridors like thin ominous fingers trying to catch him and drag him in the darknessーthe same darkness which is going to swallow him entirely.

Suzuya's frail and ramshackle body lounges in the darkest corner, his spirited and glassy eyes still wide open while he tries no to hear the voices.

The pleas and the cries of the other childrenーpale and starved faces swaying in their cellsーswirl inside his head as he blankly stares at the moldy ceiling of the tiny room. He doesn't like those weeping noises: they make him feel uncomfortable and nervous.

He doesn't like the flickering and faint hope inside those irises, too. And he knows neither Mama is fond of those lively and silly prays they often whisper.

"But Jūzō is a smart kid" he mutters softly, letting out a muffled chuckle "and loves Mama. And Mama is kind with him, oh, yes, she's so kind with him."

He wraps his arms around his knees, in a clumsy attempt to prevent the damp air of the night from stealing his body heat. His chin quivers, while his breath paints the darkness with white and humid little clouds, which resemble sweet and soft cotton sugarーwhen was the last time he ate cotton sugar? He had forgotten that taste long time ago.

The thin and blood-stained fabric of his colorful clothes can't protect him from the cold. He cringes in the corner, slowly and idly sinking in the flow of his memories; there are days he thinks that all that pain is bearable and right in its wicked way.

Mama tortures him without a reason, but her laughs mean she is happy and so she won't be crueler the next timeーmaybe. And Jūzō really wants to give her happiness.

Giving happiness to people is a good thing, isn't it?

His pale hand swirls one strand of fair und untidy hair which tumbles around his faceーthe same messy curls which were once dyed of a shiny black hue. His thoughts are still whirling and eddying in his his brain, a contrite expression etched in his grayish face.

The worldーJūzō still believes it's a dreamーstarts spinning around, like in an old-fashioned and gaudy carousel of death.

And then he hears the heavy and irregular footsteps across the corridor and the short and ragged breath of that womanーthe woman he loathes, fears and loves at the same time. His body starts quaking again, as he violently clutches his knees, hiding his face from those hideous and greedy eyes which cautiously survey him every time she spots his unarmed body.

A shrill and high-pitched voice hushes the cries as the Madam stares at her little kids. An unbelievably large grin appears on her chubby and heinous face. A huge smile that contains nothing but viciousness..

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"Big Madam is back, my little kids~ Who wants to play a new amusing game with me?"