A/N: I have been reading Tony Morrison and decided to play around with that kind of style.
It was a tranquil afternoon, modestly refusing to be too hot or too cold or to otherwise distinguish itself from the days preceding it or the days to come. The bright blue sky stretched endlessly without so much as the comfort of a fluffy cloud. The sun, in its unsympathetic glory, shined oppressively into the eyes of every citizen of the Mushroom Kingdom.
Their squinting princess sat tilting in a spindly chair. Though tall in stature, her feet could not reach the ground. She overlooked the flora and fauna of the palace gardens. Tall topiaries, meticulously groomed by men deemed "master" gardeners were surrounded by little wrought iron fences with brutal spiked tips. On top of these spikes sat the occasional little blue bird that, instead of using its winged freedom to travel, was content to shriek filthy curses at fellow birds, pettily capturing things and calling for mates until its throat grew raw and it could only glare at the world through its beady eyes.
The bushes were devoid of any of Mother Nature's imagination, instead hacked into long, thick walls; each terrified bush clung to the other for moral support. They twisted themselves into a man-made conundrum, a maze, and it was easy to lose oneself in the stark order of it all.
Peach lifted herself off the pedestal and landed on the brick with a click of the shoes she had long since become accustomed to wearing. Sweat ran down her back causing the dainty lace of her dress to itch. Ignoring the temptation to claw away the itch, she left her manicured hands inside her pristine white gloves and spread out on the grass, letting each blade slice and tickle her simultaneously.
The spice of the chili peppers in her lunch lingered at the back of her throat. She sighed heavily as she realized it was all going to be all right. All Right. Her tongue slid over the middle of her top lip as she slowly mouthed the words. She filled her lungs even though there was no air. She felt sick. It must have been heartburn. She wore her heart, a jeweled pendant, under her clothes and between her breasts where nobody would ever find it.
Had it been 18 months? Maybe more? Who knows? Peace treaties had been signed, sealed with handshakes and a look of pain. His hurt remained, gilded and chained to the bottom of her heart, pressing on her guilty stomach. Who would care about her now? Now that the plague of eternal peace had befallen her kingdom, every day melted into the next and she had no comfort of the routine chaos, of nature's cacophony.
Mario had moved on to a new kingdom with new adventures to be had. He promised to return if he were needed. She knew he would never return; he would never be needed again. He may have never been needed in the first place. Peach finally understood the jealousy of birds. What good was having this "freedom" when it, and nothing else, was truly yours? Maybe that's why Bowser spent so much time in capture and conquest.
Peach squinted at the sky to block to sun, half hoping to see a smiling face attached to a propeller. He was never coming back. She breathed in deep again, relishing the smell of the undetectable smoke that blocked out all the air from entering her caged lungs. She sat in the sun, slowly burning to death in her pure heart's quietly raging desire for the comfort of wickedness.
