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when i'm looking and i find, i am when i'm purer than the sky, i am when i'm fucking with your mind when i think that i could kill in the mirror in the mirror
Drusilla's garden of sarrow
Do you hear the stars singing?
Death is sucha tricky thing to play with, but once you learn how and why you can do it as an art of life. It's not as hard as it could seem to be. You just need to know how to inhale the possibility of death and then you can get addicted and play and dance and bleed and scream until your tummy if full and your body satisfied. A poison keeps spreading in your body and gives this warm and nice tingle. Can't you feel it? In you? Close by you? It's a lovely smell it gives, bit sugary and salty at the same. Death loves pretty things, like everyone else do. It loves taking you up on your dare and loves to dare you even more. Death is sucha lovely thing to play.

My doll asked me what death is. Surprising question from someone who should know and feel it in her blood. But she didn't. So I made her to see, but I don't think she felt it as she should have. She lied there but didn't see it, she might have felt some bits of the powerful vibrations but she still does not know it's magic. She shall soon. I'm sure the pretty doll can feel that coming. The death that will come and embrace her with the passion only death has got. And I will be the one who will show the pretty child how to. She will make the greatest pupil.

I left her to clean it all up or it might have been she that left me, but that's not anything one should bother their pretty heady about. She'll come back. The doll. Buffy. It's sucha neat name, isn't it? So sweet and innocent. It will look nice all ruined and twisted. As will she. It's close, can you feel it? Can you inhale it? Can you sense it spreading in your body? Crawling up your brain and making a cave there? Can you?

Ahh, my love is near. The stars whisper his name all over, I think they just likes him too much, their sweet voices are always about Spike and never about anyone else. Their singing sounds like sweet marmalade melting on your tongue or warm blood running down your cheek when you have a bite. Love. They do that too, just it's more about the adoration not about love. Sweet. And painful. All the way that makes it pretty...

"They like you, you know?" I ask turning to Spike. How come he always finds me? Does they tell him where to look? They might. They are evil after all... "Likes you more than they like me. Sucha evil little pixies those are..."

even with out the color it feels like: happy happy

This place has a magic. It always makes you come back. Whenever you leave, the pixies still calls your name and begs you to come back. All blurry and non-sense making. It's quite beautiful, but it can be annoying too, all the little voices whispering and begging, the ones who beg ought to die sooner or later, because begging isn't the way to move, don't they know that?

But they did have a reason to beg this time. They're tired from the monotone games played here, they want to see how it ends and that's the way they should. All spinning and giggling, like a little pixies should. They are telling a story of a doll with a confused little heart, do you hear it too? All the silence that wraps around their songs. All the beauty that hides under their shadows. Can you see it too?

The city is all quiet when you look at it. No games being played, only little things walking around, all the dolls looking for home. Like this little, precious thing. Looks all not here and here and nowhere. Mixed and messed up. Not knowing where or what or how or why. Might be because there is no where or what or how or why. Might not be that.

"After the sun has set and the dark come out to play the little dolls are supposed to sit in their precious beddies and shut their eyes not walk around and look at the sky..." I whisper circling around this one. She's quite a breakable, isn't she?

even with out the color it feels like: flirty flirty

Tea parties aren't as fun as they used to be. Now all the tea tastes like water and nothing like the blood. It's not sweet and not nice anymore. Ms. Edith doesn't like it either, she finds it as sad and as ugly as I do. There is no melodies that can be heard, no signing no playing, everything seems to be left out and forgotten. There needs to be new dolls for the fun otherwise it's just as blank as the ever so bright light that shines through the days and in the dreams.

We met a pretty doll. We with Ms. Edith, the pretty doll with something more in her soul. With something unknown, something she doesn't understand, something she doesn't feel yet. Not fully at least. She know it's there, like the spark in the dumb, living dollies, but she doesn't know how it will change her. It's fun to watch the changes, but it could go faster, so the tea parties would be more fun sooner.

My lovely dark prince never has the tea parties with me like Ms. Edith does. Spike doesn't enjoy the tea parties, maybe except for the now and then Ms. Edith invites some more warm blood filled pupils. It's more fun then. All bloody and full with screams. Like music for the death's ears. So much to have, so much to feel.

Soon there will be more games to be had, like the pretty dolly of todays. She will know soon. But shush! Ms. Edith is jealous, little devil she is. It's a merit to share, doesn't she know? All mommies teach that to their babies. It's how it should be. It's how it is. This and not that. Everyone knows that.

There's humming. Do you hear the humming? Like a knife cutting a metal. All loud and sharp. It doesn't go away. Why doesn't it leave? Does it like here? In my head? With the fishes? It might.

even with out the color it feels like: ditzy ditzy

Power play is a weird game to play. It has it perks. It shines on days and makes you feel all happy and fuzzy inside. Like a kitten. Drowning in it's own blood. All screaming, giving sounds that no one can understand or hear, because there's no one to listen. All pretty and nice. It's fun to watch the life leaving and never coming back, playing around the dead body, but then again, it's a weird game, because it can be heard too.

There's a lot of power in this place. The place where Wolf plays with the Ram and where the Ram plays with the Hart and where the Hart dies in the arms of the Wolf. It's never ending story that is never told to little babies before they fall asleep. So they wouldn't see bad dreams. How silly is that? Bad dreams are the most fun, don't they know? Daddy used to tell me all kinds of scary stories before the sleep and then I could se the pretty sun with my eyes closed. Let it play and not burn. So much fun.

I wonder if he will ever tell me the stories again. I can see the sun here and I don't even need to close my eyes, but it is no fun now. It doesn't have what the pretty dreams did. It's ugly sun they show here, even if it's meant to be more real than the one dreams can offer. How silly. No point in showing sun with no meaning.

I think I like here. The power makes my mind feel home. It doesn't have home, though, I know that, but here it rests and I can tell Ms. Edith loves it here too. We might stay for a while. Just to see how it is here and where the power goes. Does it only play? Can it be so? It must go somewhere, right? It can just disappear or rotate...

even with out the color it feels like: curious curious

Power has a tricky way to be. It suits who ever it wants and doesn't let other kids come and play nice. There's nothing nice in power. Nothing sweet and sugary, but it's hardly evil either, is it? It twists and turns and never stands still, but it doesn't get to be evil, does it? Pity, though, evil is much more pretty than everything else. Evil has its courtesy and fineness. But power is like that too, just not evil. Except for maybe a little.

This place, the playground of the wolf, the ram and the hart, it has it all. Power. In all it's pretty, shiny colors. Evil. It taints the power up. Makes sure the evil is more than the good. Even neutral the power suits evil more. It's a funny way how it always likes to play. But it shall be more of the light now here. The sun can play on my skin and not make it hurt. This place has twisted the rules of the game. I quite like it.

People and demons and all kind of other pretty birdies they have here. Food and no food. Everything mixed. And everything has sun shining over it. Beautiful. And very confusing. Confusion has dictated its ways in everyone minds during the past few days, hasn't it? Like with the little brother. He's all confused. But very loved. Isn't he? Daddy should know the best.

I wonder if he knows I'm close. He should. I always know he's close. But it's not really him. It's all blurry with that spark of his. Blurry but still pretty, even if it is sad and makes poor Ms. Edith cry bloody tears. It might get better, though, not with Daddy coming back as I know the spark won't let it happen, at least not in the instant, but then there's my lovely Spike. Won't take long for him to come around and make Ms. Edith all happy again, otherwise the poor darling doesn't even want to drink tee. That's sad.

All these offices and people and sun, oh the sun, and I still know where to find him. It's the blood, Daddy used to say that. I wonder if it's still the blood and if he knows it too. Nothing else than asking will get me the answer, so I shall ask.

I brush my fingers against the door and then push it open. No one seems to want to stop me anyway. It's a very uncaring place for sucha power to live in...

"Knock, knock, guess who's home?"

even with out the color it feels like: predatory predatory

Everything has been happening so fast. In an eye blink things have been changing. Ms. Edith has been all confused about where and why. The birdies all are out from their cages and are trying to fly, pity though, with broken wings no one has ever been able to fly. They all are running and hiding, but no one really knows running where or hiding from whom. But that’s the fun of the game. All the little pretty things that is and that isn’t. Now it’s more confusing and more sad. I like it. It’s like a pretty waterfall with light colors crystallizing through them. And then there’s the melody that chimes in the phon. All so pretty mixing and being.

I went to visit Mommy... or shall I say my baby?... she wasn’t all too happy to see me. She refused to let the darkness lull her again. The being alive has spoiled her. She’s afraid of darkness now, how silly is that? The darkness is what she is made of and I’m sure she will see it. It’s silly not to see what you are made for. She was made from darkness and made the rest of us. Why doesn’t she now want us make her? I once did that already and she was happy... But of course now she has a pretty spark of her own. Must be what burns so bad...

So much to see. So much to feel. Everyone has been doing something. I wonder if Daddy has found my little brother yet. He should. But that wouldn’t change the rules in the game, now would it? They all are blending and all are confusing and I wonder if they are written down somewhere. They should. But that wouldn’t be fun anymore, would it? I suppose not... Now it’s all screaming and painting in pain and anger. Pretty colors making it dances in the glow of sun. Can you feel how it pretty burns?

And then there is my pretty Spike. Still all clear and puzzling. Piece to piece, but you can’t touch. He’s not sure, I can tell. Feels confused. The world isn’t nice, but has it ever been? There’s always confusion and light that shines through the dark. Hurts your eyes when you look at it, but you never look away. How come?

Still I can reach out and try to touch. It’s weird how easy it actually is if you try once or twice. I wonder if my dark prince feels the connection as I do. I know he’s confused by my whispers in his mind, but the touch shall make it better...

even with out the color it feels like: impressed impressed

It’s chilly and a little bit silly out here. There are pretty, little dollies running here and there, all being careful not to become someone else’s food. It’s funny how all the dollies plays and doesn’t understand they do. They move in the rhythm of the star sung melody. So pretty, so slow... No one knows what they have coming, no one knows what has happened. All of them are so innocent, so naïve and pretty...

There’s less and less of the dollies as I move closer to the dark places of the City of Angels... More playmates here. All kind of dead and colorful thingies. All ready for games and plays, pity I have no time to stay and have fun with them, I have a purpose for being here. We all do, or that’s what people used to say. They believe that. That we all have a purpose in this place and time. Silly, isn’t it? But no, I do have a purpose, at least for now... I’m out for a hunt. And look, I’ve found my prey.

“It’s too dark and chilly for little kids to be out at this hour of the day...” I whisper as he turns to me. Ready for a fight. Very nice. Pretty boy has been well thought. I wonder if Daddy is proud of him...

“Who are you?” He asks. Why does he ask? Doesn’t he know? He should. We’re family. Not as close as we could or should, but family is and stays family. But I forgive him for now, the pretty boy is just so lost...

“I’m a sister and a Grandmommy. How come sucha sweet boy is so confused and so lost?” I know why, but I still ask. I know his head is a place of chaos now. There is no sun and no flowers. All dark and all wrong.

“You’re crazy.” Well, yes, that’s nothing new, I wonder if he thinks he is too. Wonder about the stars and moon and melodies both of them can create... “You should leave before I decided to dust you...” Let me fly in the wind?

“I will. But you don’t worry. It’s all going to fall in it’s places. Not now. Not soon. But it will. All will be pretty and shiny.” I turn to leave but before that offer my little brother a smile. “Daddy is out to find you, love...” He doesn’t understand, but he will soon. Then the storm will have its thunders.

I leave the pretty boy, but I have one more place to be now. Go see Mommy. Or shall I call her my baby? She is a childe of mine. All mine. But not anymore, though, I’m sure to change that. Make her all mine again. Make sure she’s there for me, like I’m there for her.

It’s here. I knock. Soon she will again be the queen of the darkness as I am the princess. We’re pretty together...

even with out the color it feels like: mischievous mischievous

It’s all quite here. All hushed. Can you here? The silence rules all over this place. It’s here and it’s no where. Feels all lonely when there’s no noise around. The little mice don’t give a sound. I wonder if they all are dead. Like the little, pretty birdy. It died. Everything always dies around me. It crawls in its cave and dies alone. Why does everyone always die alone? Is that how the world must be? Dark and lonely. Harsh and sad. Pretty and depressive. I like it.

I talked with my dark prince. Poor love, he doesn’t understand the direction world turns. But he will. Eventually everything will fall in its places and everything will be shiny and pretty. And then there will be parties with music loud as you can hear and pretty dollies dancing and having the time of their short lives. And then we will be able to feed and let the blood flow. Dance in the blooded water and swim in the nightly music. Like we used to.

It’s all even more gray now. It has lost its lines and went all blurry. Everyone will be worried and not understanding. All the point of hiding goes beyond the mind. No Hide and Seek to be played anymore. At least not in the places it used to be. Now it’s only the Seek, less of the Hide. Pity though, the game was all nice to watch. But little butterfly has left its cocoon. Now everyone can be worried and sad. Ahh, the prettiness...

I can feel the confusion flouting through me. My poor love. He’s so puzzled now. There’s no place to hide. They’ll find you everywhere. Come out, come out where ever you are... No need to hide the truth is there...

“You just have to be still, love...” I whisper and hear my voice resounding in Spike’s thoughts as it does resound in the silence that rules in this place. Miss Edith doesn’t like the silence. We need the stars to sing loud and clear. Spike could make them sing again. I’m sure he could...

even with out the color it feels like: naughty naughty

doesn't need to prove it
There he is. My dark prince. The game’s back on table. My Spike. He’s here. Close. Can you feel him Miss Edith? He’s right here, between cookies and tea. All confused and still with the spark. It does him good. Shush. No one can know that. But it’s there. It shines and is ready to be. Pretty. I wonder what else it does. What does little spark like that? One like it ruined daddy for good. But it won’t do the same to my Spike. He’s stronger for that. Can you feel him, too, Miss Edith?

There’s sun out. I want to go out in sun, but it burns. It doesn’t let a little devil’s child like me to play in its beauty. But it’s unfair, I want to let myself play in the sunlight, but it hurts and nothing but in a bad way. I miss Spike. He didn’t let it hurt. He made sure I never get hurt. I wonder if the spark still lets him love me, it didn’t to daddy and he left me. I don’t want my dark prince to leave me. I want him here and want him now. I’m sure he can feel me like I feel him. Can you feel him, Miss Edith?

It’s so boring now. There’s no one to play with. I miss games. There are not enough dollies to play with and the stars are hushing the sounds of melodies they used to sing. I miss them singing. I miss so many things. I need Spike, he made it all fun. And made me not feel hungry. I do feel hungry now. I wonder if there are still some dollies around here. Food for the tummy makes the baby happy.

We should start some new games while these are going so slow, love. Don’t you think it’s slow? Does Spike think it’s slow? No. I think my love doesn’t even know about the game, you’re a silly doll, Miss Edith. How could Spike know? No one has explained him. No one has told the rules. Do you know the rules, pet? I think no. But no one really does, do they? But that’s not important. I wonder how close Spike is. Wonder if he feels the spark in him like I do... wonder if it shines...

even with out the color it feels like: jubilant jubilant

Slowly walking upstairs I let my fingertips slid over the railing. Mummy was downstairs talking to the lucky one. Ah, so many ways to play his games, but only one rule you need to accept. No one cares which way you go unless you cross each other paths.

Quietly I slipped in the bedroom where the lucky ones precious jewels were sleeping. The peaceful faces rested on little pillows. Eyes closed in sleep. No worries, babies, soon you will not close your eyes to sleep.

I let my hand over one of the child's head. The baby boy didn't wake up, only twitched a little. No games at all! I moved over to his sister who was sleeping in the bed beside the window. A gentle moonbeam played on her face. When I touched her face the girl opened her eyes and connected them with mine.

"Who are you?" The blond girl whispered, thinking that she still was dreaming.

"Someone who came to let you play." I whispered before sinking mine fangs in the child's neck. When the girl was already sleeping to be waked by darkness I turned back to the still sleeping boy.

"Oh, hopefully darkness will make you more playful that you are now." Were mine last words before my fangs made the boy join the darkness as well. When both child finally came back from the deadly sleep, opening they eyes they looked at their sire.

"We're hungry." They both whispered together. I only smiled. "Then go and play, my sweets, go and play." And they did. That was a lovely, bloody night in house of the lucky. Finally both fanged kids stepped beside me and looked up, still hungry. "Where can we play more, mommy?" They asked, again together. I looked down at my creation.

"Not your Mummy." I whispered and then put a stake through each of them. When the dust settled I already were walking downstairs, quietly to my self saying. "Ashes to ashes, now all family can close eyes and let others play the deadly game."

even with out the color it feels like: cheerful cheerful

doesn't need to prove it