The slice of strawberry cake was luxurious, and the red tea was mellow. The plate and teacup were inlaid with intricate gold patterns, and they sat on an opulent pedestal table in front of Mirasol in the middle of an empty, white grand hall. Dessert prepared for the most exquisite lady.
She cut a piece from the cake with her slender hands in red gloves and gracefully fed it into her soft, red lipped mouth. Delicious. She gently wiped her mouth with a napkin, tainting it with red, then reached for the teacup and took a small sip from the steaming red tea, painting the edge red with her lips. Splendid. Eventhough she was only 14, her demeanor could match any mature noblewoman. Mirasol leaned back in her chair and sighed in satisfaction, her fancy sunflower hairpin glistened under the chandelier above. She hasn't had dessert this delicious for years, it was nostalgic and comforting.
Ambient, deep, and distant piano sounds echoed throughout the empty hall like water drops, it mixed with a soft choir from young girls and noisy chatter and laughter of children, heavenly. Mirasol stared into the red tea, its color deep and vibrant, much deeper than her red gown, its long lace skirt bled onto the white marble floor as the tea would if it was to spill; her amber eyes with flower pattern in the iris was a solitary magnificence on their own.
As she took more sips from the tea, a pair of black gloved hands reached out and cut a piece from the cake. Mirasol looked over, a familiar girl in black gown suddenly appeared across the table, her hair was brown and braided, and her face was not as white or impeccable as Mirasol's, but the speckles gave her their own charms. Their eyes met, and they exchanged a smile.
"This is delicious, Mirasol. Did you eat this every day?"
She took a sip of the tea. "No, Janet. It's not healthy, so father didn't allow me to have it as often as I'd liked." Their voices echoed throughout the hall.
"That's too bad, they're so good." Janet took another piece. She was not as well trained as Mirasol in table manners, her knife made a crispy clink sound with the plate every time she cut.
Gulp.
The music and sounds of children continued to ring inside the hall.
Janet took yet another piece.
"Hey now, save me a piece would you, Janet? I'm glad you enjoy my favorite food, but I'd like to have some more as well." It had been her dream to share a dessert her beloved Maria made with her best friend, Mirasol believed the care and love she puts into the craft would best even the royal pastry chefs.
"No worries, there are plenty to go around." Clink.
Gulp.
Mirasol looked at the plate, several more slices are on there.
"I guess you are right."
"Mm-hmm." Janet took another piece.
Mirasol watched as Janet devoured more slices of cake. She ate another and another, but somehow there is still more cake on the table. It seemed every time she blinked there'd be more, until the slices towered over each and flopped onto the table.
"J-Janet, I think you've had enough, it's not good for you." Mirasol was a bit worried, she knew Janet would love the cake, but not this much, and she'd known Maria all her life and had never seen her make this much cake this quickly.
Gulp.
The table was filled to the brim, and finally a slice fell and splattered onto the snow-white floor, and thick, red syrup came out of it and spread over the surface. Like wet, red paint spreading on a blank canvas.
Another dropped as Janet continued to eat. Splat.
A couple more dropped. Splat-splat-splat.
Splat-splat-splat-splat-splat
The floor was soon covered in corpses of cake.
Mirasol looked shockingly at Janet, who was now stuffing cake into her mouth with hands, as she bit into the cake red syrup would squirt out and drip down her lips and gloves. Her face was covered in cream and red, and her cheeks bulged as they were stuffed.
Gulp.
The children's laughter grew wilder, and the piano played discomforting tunes.
Mirasol's hand shook and spilled some hot tea on it, she flinched and quickly put the cup down and her red gloves melted into dark, rusty liquid and flowed down her arms. Mirasol shrieked and got off the chair and accidently hit the table, knocking it over. All the cake fell, and many died when they hit the ground, bleeding, tainting the floor red, the teacup shattered, and the drink inside was immediately aflame, burning brightly.
Crunch, crunch, gulp.
"Come on, help me eat some, I can't finish it by myself," she said as she sat still on her chair while eating peacefully, her voice relaxed and calm.
"N-no, something is wrong, please stop eating the cake, Janet," she said.
"Don't be shy, here, have a slice." Her lips dark red from the syrup, and her eyes deep and hungry. She picked up a slice off the floor, miraculously intact and soaked in the blood of its brothers and handed it towards Mirasol.
"You are not Janet, w-what are you?" she said as she backed away.
"You're talking non-sense, must be because you're hungry. Come, have some cake," Janet said as she walked closer to Mirasol with the cake dripping red onto the floor.
"N-no, I don't want to."
"Just one slice."
"N-no."
"Have some cake."
"P-please, sto-"
"Eat some cake," her eyes wide open.
Mirasol picked up her skirt and ran for the door behind her, the crisp sound of heels hitting marble floor echoed throughout the hall. She reached for the handle with her blood-stained hand but flinched at the scorching heat on the metal handle. She felt a firm, wet grasp on her shoulder and a slice of cake was handed to her mouth.
"Oh, come on. How could you say no?" Janet whispered to Mirasol's ear. "Just one bite, you love it, don't you?" She gently bit Mirasol's ear.
Mirasol slapped away the cake in panic and shrugged away Janet's grasp, then swung the door open, burning her hand and ran out to the equally pure-white and bright hallway. The music and laughter continued. She ran across the empty hall decorated with beautiful paintings and fancy porcelains, she found it difficult to breath as if she was inhaling hundreds of needles down her lungs, and the heat was unbearable.
"Father!" cough-cough, "Maria! Where are you?" her voice echoed throughout the empty, curving hallway. Nobody responded. Her eyes irritated by something and teared up. The piano played sinister notes mixed with threatening voices and strings, eerily.
Mirasol glanced behind her and caught a glimpse of Janet before she disappeared behind the curving corridor, she stood there silently, smiling with the cake, while red dripped from her mouth and gloves. She continued to chew.
Gulp.
Mirasol ran faster ahead, leaving red markings on the floor that dripped from her arms.
The corridor seemed to go on forever, it bent one way, then another. The outside was empty, nothing but blank, she'd tried to open the windows, but they won't budge, and the metal handles were extremely hot. She ran and ran, Janet could no longer be seen, her mind fuzzy and the only thought was, run.
She came across a door on her left, soft chatters and laughter came from the other side. She paused and panted, and slowly opened the door with her hands stained in red. The noise got louder and suddenly stopped. The room was empty and white like the rest of the palace, with only a goblet filled with dark red liquid on a table in the center. Quiet and nerve-wrecking whispers filled the room but there was no one to be seen. The whispers got more and more crowded and crawled from Mirasol's fingertips to the back of her ears and the goblet overflowed with gargling red liquid and poured onto the floor.
Mirasol slammed the door shut and backed away, her body shivering and cold. The liquid flowed out from under the door and bled into the white corridor.
Clicks of heels hitting marble passed down the hallway.
"Mi~Ra~Sol~" a sweet voice sang her name like music notes, and the choir followed.
"Mi~Ra~Sol~"
She turned and ran again.
And run she did, but to where? The corridor just kept going and bending and going and bending, the same color and decorations and the cursed heart-wrenching music kept on playing. Was it her that ran, or was it the corridor that twisted around her like a sick joke? The paintings turned from beautiful landscapes to crude drawings of a boy with half his faced burnt, and the porcelains replaced by golden goblets overflowing in blood.
Why, why why? He seemed to ask.
"Mi~Ra~Sol~"
Suddenly around one corner, Mirasol stopped, the music ceased, and her heart almost did, too.
There were five people, a man in white uniform laid on the ground bleeding to death, painting the white marble floor red; a cloaked man wielded a bleeding silver blade, and held another man in white in the air by the neck, struggling; Janet stood behind them next to the windows, smiling at Mirasol while eating the cake; and then there was the sweet, sweet Maria, gracefully pouring a cup of red tea on the opposite side. Her expression graceful and indifferent. Silence.
"Would you like some tea, lady Mirasol?" she said in that familiar sweet voice while the man in white gurgled, echoing in the hollow corridor.
"Maybe some cake?" Janet said and licked her cake-stained lips.
The struggling man was suddenly set aflame, he screamed and struggled like a dying rat strangled by a twirling snake, his face inside the flames was ghastly, and haunting. The sinister music played louder.
Maria sipped the tea. "Vintage tea leaves, lady, it'd be shame not to have some."
"There won't be any cake left if you don't hurry." Gulp.
Mirasol trembled and backed off slowly, she wanted to run but her legs failed her. And even if they didn't, where to? Where did she belong?
"Nowhere, nowhere, nowhere," the choir sang.
The man screamed louder as the malevolent music started again and crescendoed into a deafening explosion and the entire hallway was suddenly in ruins and fire; wood cackling, rubbles rumbling, glass shattering, and people screaming joined in unison with the music and laughter. Mirasol fell onto the ground, it was scorching hot, but her body ice cold. The man was quickly burned to ash, not a trace left on this world.
"Maria…Janet…?" Her voice trembled.
They did not speak. The world around them kept burning. The flames and smoke shadowed their faces.
The figure turned and pointed a pistol at Mirasol's forehead. And at that moment, eventhough she couldn't see clearly, the mocking, twisted grin on the face of the young girl named Janet was bright as day, and sinister as all evils.
Gulp.
Bang!
The gunshot echoed in Mirasol's head like a haunting lullaby and put her to sleep.