Viewing some goth south park art, drew some but still needed more! Here, enjoy
Chapter 1: Gorgeous like a Painting
The girl had trapped herself in the small room. The smoggy bathroom provided no release, no space for her to look anywhere always but straight head at her reversed form. Two versions of the girl stared at each other.
The girl behind that glass was strange. Her fat cheeks covered with streams of tears. Her plump hilly body seemed, enlarged in the glassy surface. The girl staring at Henrietta was a grotesque landscape of pain and sorrow.
Henrietta raised the blade and sliced apart the reflection's arm, a few inches away from her wrist. Tiny bubbles of fat spilled forth and a nice and steady flow of warmed crimson splattered to the tiled floor. Henrietta smiled a bit. She hated the pink tiles.
The strange yet familiar girl who shadowed her movements seemed scared and frightened at the bloody arm. Her dead brown eyes screamed for closure of the event.
The metal tore veins and layers of skin. Some slashes were fast, making wet splashing noises as it sprayed blood on the wall and across the smooth surface of the mirror. Other cuts were slow and meticulous. Thought out and careful, the blade sniped away at stitches of covering.
The different movements and cutting had turned the once normal arm into a hideous mosaic of lines of varying depths and bloody fat. It was every where seeping into the tile grout and staining the flooring a deep dingy maroon.
Both girls huffed loudly, the ordeal taking so much energy from them. The outer body experience ended, the high from the control dissipated. Soon it was just Henrietta staring hateful into the mirror with a very fucked up arm.
Her control of the situation slipped too fast to recover. Her head went spinning like a top and the sharpest pain rippled through her, starting from the damaged arm. The soiled pink tiles whirled and smeared as her body crashed upon it. Blackness crept up on her peripheral vision. The small room became microscopic and her fatty body seemed like the biggest thing ever imagined.
Henrietta bled on the floor, her consciousness depleting with the passing seconds but there was no fear. Unlike most eleven year old kids, the goth girl was at peace with the "Grim Reaper".
It was part of being goth to allow yourself to be consumed by the everlasting darkness that was overlooked by the conformist assholes that ran the world around you. It was only in her morbid nature for her to dream about the frosty heat of death. She wondered what splendid tortures awaited her in hell, where she was sure to end up. She could faintly feel the flicking flames of the damned fires singeing the hair on her skin.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror through crack lids. Her dyed black hair falling into her face more so then usual, her fingers still loosely gripping the blade. Her fat torso was slanted at a weird angle and there was crimson splatters every way she looked. She reminded herself of one of those abstract paintings she saw in museums, blob of black scattered with swipes of red.
This was death, she decided. Death was complex and confusing splatters of random parts of your life. It couldn't be obtained by dark poetry or large cups of black coffee. Death was everything while being nothing. Only people who were nothing could experience the full nature of this marvelous thing and appreciate it's miraculous gift of release.
And Henrietta was the biggest nothing she ever met.
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