Storytime🌷🥀

Promqueen

A sash hung around her shoulders like a broken glass sculpture, heavy and cold but extremely fragile, beautiful but untouchable she was. The crown at her head hung low, gems missing from certain parts while some of the protruding points were torn off or had dried blood on it. It was dirty, shamelessly she wore it though. Her tattered white dress, with smudges of brown on certain parts, the edges frayed as strings dragged on the floor. Her bold red lipstick was blemished on the left corner, her lips chapped with pieces of her skin falling off. Her soft white eyes contrasted the harsh eyeliner with proud pink eyeshadow.

She'll do anything to get her hand around her lovelies, to puppet those empty shells or hurt herself in order to look vulnerable to gain some she will. She can be seen lounging on the royal chair in an abandoned castle in ruins. A mold of black and green hues grew at every dark lip, through cracks it peered into with greedy smiles. The gray tiles had cracked with black mold growing between them, some missing chunks while others were on tables or outside shattered windows with blood still parch. The violet curtains were drawn out to welcome in courageous visitors, the patches and holes giving an insignificant appetizer to those who savored a taste of this bitch.

The throne used to be an angelic white, but now, it's black with holes and bloodshed at its feet. The violet cushion had cotton coming out the many holes and slashes it had. She admired her hall with extreme malfeasance. Her dull brown wiry hair upon her bony shoulders would fall out as she did, waiting for the next visitor took some life out of her.

This wasn't the right choice, only the grandest of all she had ahead. Instead of manicures and pedicures, she had claws and fangs to consume with. An eternal life without beauty meant nothing, she could just get a taste of a virgin's blood and launder herself back up for the ensuing victim. Instead of pesky catwalks, she flowed inches above the air, her hair floated as if she were below water. The ruffles in her dress would sometimes tangle as she swam in the air. Endless beauty would only be seen by those who touched the steps, they'll walk in and see this wolf with a fool's gold halo burning above her, luring their necks into her insolence.

This was punishment though, as fun as it sounded. She desired beauty and attention desperately in her past life. A brat with no humbleness in life's face. Treated everyone like shit and fucked with many people's emotions to crawl her way up the ladders. She never got the world, only the part she hated at least. The attention-seeking, the waiting, the ugly, and the visuals of a torn throne. She had the permanent reminder of her death, water. She drowned in this castle, the downfall down the stairs and into the pool of blood had consumed her whole like a  shark's gargantuan jaws devouring its defenseless prey. This is what happens when the crown just doesn't fit you right, you force it down your head and just trip on a tube of lipstick, down the stairs you'll go back to your sins you shall drown in.