The Porcelain Woman

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
a story about two people.

Submitted: March 29, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 29, 2016






  She was a mysterious one. One that showed nothing to no one else but me. She had something magnificent that she only shared with me, and that was her smile. To others, she had a face of warm and smooth stone, polished to perfection with a fierce shine. She hid her smile perfectly behind those closed doors. All she would do to express herself to others without their judgements was to dance.

  Oh, she was a talented one. One that could make peace with her dancing alone. To bring an end to a war, all she could or would have to do is to dance it all away, reuniting the people together with no words, but with her grace alone. But what added to her talent was her way with words. In secret, she would speak in whispers with the sweetest and slightest of voices. Never did it crack or quiver, nor did it shriek, but it never hid her feelings. It was perfect; no, she was perfect. It was as though she herself a doll of porcelain, made to dance on a porcelain throne for her impure audience.

  So I broke her. What had pushed me to destroy such a magnificent and beautiful doll of porcelain was what made her so perfect in the first place.

  Her smile she shared with only me was not one of consideration, oh no it was not. It was impure; it was a smile of one higher than another, giving pity to the one below them. So, I decided to draw her a pure smile of red. Her voice of gentle sweetness would turn sour when whispered. It carried nothing but lies and superiority when sent to my ears, oh how it was spoiled. It was a voice that I could only compliment with a divine necklace of twine and string, one that anyone would want. Oh, how angelic she looked with her new smile and necklace.

  Truly, she was a perfect doll of porcelain.



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