Neon Cinderella

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I have arrived at the palace, the Neon Palace. I step out of my metallic and leather carriage, and turn to the escorts, my sisters. They are shiny fairies that fly on wings of kohl, mascara and cannibis. They bid me farewell with sniffles of their powdered noses and a wave of their magic cigarette wands. The painted-black nails on my fingers wiggle in a royal wave. The vessel vanishes in a cloud of exhaust fumes.

The miniskirt hugs my thighs suffocatingly. I glide to the guards adorned in sleek black suede, and their cold, wet stamps kiss my pale hand. Ink saliva lingers, then dries on my skin. Majestic tin doors open before me and I am swallowed into the spell cast by the flashing lights.

The princess has arrived. A symphony of beats and screams are played by the orchestra of speakers. All the dukes and duchesses, counts and countesses, lords and ladies are guests at this shimmering ball. They dance and jump clad in tights and t-shirts. Pills replace pearls, bottles replace bracelets, syringes replace silk dresses and crushed glass replace crowns. I saunter through my subjects and take a seat in my throne. I engulf the finest venom available and float to the floor.

A tall, strong boy places his palm on my waist. He must be the prince. Our fingers entwine as we elegantly grind under the frantic lasers. The beams flash against his strikingly dull features. His scent of aftershave, smoke, beer and breath mints sneaks into my system. It grips my veins and threatens to strangle. Our damp bodies press dangerously close as our lips collide in brutal blows.

He leads me through the castle to the royal bedchamber. His hands shover their way over my breasts, my stomach, my thighs. We fall on the dusty and stained mattress. One of my sneakers escapes my feet and meets the floor with a muffled thud. The prince's teeth bite through my glowing skin. There is soon a regal stiffness in his jeans that he struggles to set free. After a mighty struggle, he releases the monster. He pushes my soft skirt up with harsh care and splits my legs apart. Soon he is inside me, and I feel startingly sick.

He does his twisted dance on top of me, crushing my body until it is decorated with bruises. My weak hands fight to break the horrible embrace, but he grinds my bones so they become sand. His wretched moan of victory is a bittersweet relief. My eyes sting as I run, run, run out of the Neon Palace.

I pant and sob as I stand in the rain. It pounds me to a pulp and hammers all that is left of the magic spell out of my soul. It gathers in a puddle of glitter, blood and makeup at my feet, sneakered and bare. I collapse on the slick surface. The pain ambushes me as the world begins to fade.

I am no longer a princess. I am only a lump of bones and poisoned flesh lying in the hazy aftershock of a deceitful, deadly fantasy. The sheets of rain drown the last drops of life I possess. I slip further and deeper into the murderous darkness.

And I plunge into the black eternity of silence.





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