phantasmagoria

ˌfantazməˈɡɔːrɪə,ˌfantazməˈɡɒrɪə/

noun

a sequence of real or imaginary images like that seen in a dream.

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The woman stumbles in, with bloodied hands and tears staining her porcelain face. She can only taste iron as dryness crept into her mouth. Her steps staggered, dragging the heavy fabrics of her dress. Her hands remained balled, her fingernails digging into the palms of her hands. From past her chewn lips, an ugly sob clattered into the air.

The thunder roared, so she sobbed harder.

She found herself before the altar, her fingertips painting the marble in crimson. Lightning flashed, colouring the church in its white light. She scratched at the altar, tears running races across her swollen checks. From the depths of her dry throat, a shrill sob wrangled its way past her lips.

"Please!" she begged, banging her fists against the altar as hard as she could. "I didn't mean to fall in love!"

Yet only rain was the response that heeded her calls. She threw her head back, to face the cross that stood above her. Her brown hair plastered itself against her cold neck, the curls snaking into the collar of her dress. They were frowning at her, for the sins that carved themselves into her body. Her lips trembled.

They're watching her.

"It's not my fault!" She whined, clasping her hands together. "He is God, I followed him because he is God!"

She turned her blue eyes to the cross again, yet it was hidden behind a wall of tears. She brought her hands closer to her chest, feeling the damp fabric against her thumbs. She licked her lips, tasting only salt and iron.

"When he is the devil though…" She began, her voice small. "He is so much stronger than I."

Another sob racked her body tearing her sight away from the world around her. It's prying eyes on a wreck that became by his hand. The wind howled, making her clambering heart want to claw its way out of its prison of flesh.

"I thought I can be happy with him…" She muttered, her voice dry. The words forced their way out of her throat. It hurt her heart when she heard them. "But no worshipper should be involved with a god."

The girls lids were heavy as she breathed in the sweet scent of the air. Sickening. Her stomach curled, she could feel the bile crawl into her throat. Closer to her mouth and crawling onto her tongue.

Oh… its all over her dress now...

The yellow contrasted to the blue, stuck like clumps to the dark fabric. She tried to brush it off, yet it was sticky against her hand. The bile contrasted greatly with the blood that crusted on her palms. The woman curled her hand tightly as she closed her eyes. Her body shook, another sob racked her ever so cold body. She felt chilled to the bone as pains ate away at her muscles, like little ants flocking to food.

She could hear sirens, distant screams of fate waiting to wrap its hands around her neck. It didn't bother the shadow figures that judged her as she remained curled on the altar. She wished she could be smaller.

She turned her puffy eyes towards the altar. She could feel the headache hack into her brain. Bright lights danced before her eyes, like little ballerinas twirling in the still air. The darkened corners of the church was where her critics lingered, laughing at the woman as she cried.

He could make them go away with a simple touch. She could only focus on his light. He was sent for her… for the demons would of feasted on her flesh long ago. That they will drag her to the depths of hell and cloud her mind with their fog.

… He's not here now… so they take advantage and watch. With pointed teeth and blue tongues, they laugh at her.

She moved her chin to meet her elbows. She was tired now. She felt euphoria when she was with him. Tangled her in his broken red strings. She was his marionette, a follower of his actions. With a simple tug of the strings, she'd be kissing the ground he walked upon.

From within the stone walls that guarded her from the thrashing rain, time has forbad itself from clocking forward. The flickering candles that danced off her damp skin and the world around her moved, twisting in a way that made her head cringe in pain. A deep breath, it sent aches through her body.

The sirens are louder, the noise searing into her head. Can't they just stop?

"He'll come back for me." She muttered, her lips trembled. "He is being the devil now… but when he decides to be God, I'll wait for him."

Dio. A fitting name for a god, she concluded. A man worthy to ascend humanity. He'll return to her… save her all over again from fate as it marched closer.

The sirens found her weeping and approached her carefully. She could still be armed they decided. Yet she didn't fight when they grabbed her and placed the bounds on her wrists. She just continued to cry and her head continued to spin.

"It's his fault! It's his fault!" She began to yell, her throat dry and ached with each of the words. They sounded like someone who dragged nails against a chalkboard. "I did it for him! So it's his fault".

The sirens ignored her pleas and kept their conversation to themselves.

"Alix Forstner… I wonder how she became such a troubled soul." One siren asked, ignorant that the woman in question was the one they dragged out the church.

"I dunno" The other said as he hauled Alix out. "But it's a damn shame, Cyrus."

Alix felt a simple phrase pass her lips. It was like poison, all too familiar to her lips. Sweet, yet killing her heart with each breath. But, like an addict. It kept passing her lips.

"Dio will save me again… Dio will save me again… Dio will save me again…"

Alix, my dear, has your misfortune blinded you?
-

A/N: Don't worry the first chapter should be out in the next few days. So you don't need to wait long to begin the journey how Alix ended up in this state. Hope you enjoyed it!
- Xiourong