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Emily Grist

"Ribbons of Lace" by Emily Grist

SciFi/Fantasy text 21 out of 31 by Emily Grist.      ←Previous - Next→
 
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Updated, again. I changed the title from 'The Sounds of Lace', because I want to use that title for a different story. Same thing, basically.
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←- Lips and Iron Nails | He Wore a Mask -→

Pick up the pen. Write what is in your heart; your mind. Write what is real.

A chair in a blackened, an a-mirthful room. Sketches, words, phrases etched into the dulled wood. Claw marks on the floor, screams echoing from the walls of nothing...

It was a room that stretched forever. The beats of a war drum, the strings of a guitar gently making music together in the nothing. Gently... gently... not too loud or else everything will go wrong; everything will fall apart; they will die.

Where can I run to? Who do I turn to? Where can I hide?

Rocking back and forth in the nothingness, biting, producing blood, feeling the killing pain. Apathetic, so numb and yet so wild with rage and fear.

O how the Ribbons of Lace make her feel alone.

Licking her wounds help with the feeling. She stops feeling as she twitches, thinking no one is by her as she screams out, her thoughts cluttered and nothing coming out, she just wants to YELL AND FIGHT AND SCREAM AT THE MAN WHO SAID I LOVE YOU WITHOUT MEANING IT.

Where can I run to? Who do I turn to? Where can I hide?

The pen scratching in her ear while he writes the check, her happy, gleeful mood etching down as she wonders where he came from, so rich and powerful. Her head starts spinning and she feels about to go out of control. Her hands clamp over her ears so she can't hear the moans, her eyes closed so she can't see the wicked demons wreaking havoc, her voice bellowing at the top of her lungs to keep her from losing sanity; all this to keep it from leaving her, all this sacrifice and nothing worth it in the end.

They think she's bothered; they forget her within minutes. She walks up to strange men, thinking of the room, the chair, the phrases...

Do you think I care?

O how the Ribbons of Lace makes her unwanted.

Children laugh on the playground and she feels happy for a moment, even with the blood soaked on her hands, in her hair, on her clothes.

The chair in her head is spinning, the black room making her dizzy with confused thoughts.

Her body moves with the rain as it pours down, the children playing inside now, and the blood dripping off her.

She's satisfied with what happened. She's thinking of what's etched on the chair, in the room, all those phrases...

Did it feel good to be betrayed?

No response.

I didn't think it would.

O how the Ribbons of Lace make her contemplative.

Where can I run to? Who do I turn to? Where can I hide?

No one to turn to; they're all dead now. And it's all her fault.

There's no way out of this town. Not with the demons around: nowhere to run to.

She can still hide. She can hide in the playground, hoping the demons from her mind won't come for her.

It's all her fault. The Ribbons of Lace are the demons. But she can't say, because her mouth is now a lock. She created them; now they're real. They found the chair, the pen; the paper. They found the door, and so can she.

O how the Ribbons of Lace lock her up.

←- Lips and Iron Nails | He Wore a Mask -→

DateNameComment 
20 Feb 2004:-) Dtauri
No comments yet?? I muchly liked this (hence linking to it from my bio). All the stuff I said about dream writing in my comment on "End Of Imagination" applies here - you recreate the ambiguous shifting reality of the dream in words very well. I love the title too.

I'm not smart enough to work out what it 'means' but - like David Lynch's work - I think its more important what it 'feels'. And it 'feels' like an impotent tirade by the narrator against herself, more than anything else (to me, at least). Your writing's improved from your older pieces (of course - I'm glad mine has too... that's why I deleted most of my older stuff - shame - hehe 1 Great work! 1I'm glad to hear that my things have improved in such a short time! My laste update was only in December... how strange.

Ah, now I understand the comment, but I have to ask, who is David Lynch?

"You recreate the ambiguous shifting reality of the dream in words very well." You flatter me too much, really. ^_^ I've still got a long way to go until I'm considered a "decent" writer of the world.

Eeee, the title is what sparked the whole thing! If I suddenly think of some cool title, I can derive an entire short story from it. That's prtty much my inspiration... like floating paper... Anyway! Yes, my dad and I have a complete love and mutual fear for motorcycles, but I've decided that one day I'm going to buy a harley and name it "The Sounds of Lace" and give it a cool paint job and a big muffler for some loud noises. I'll make myself fee cool if I must!!

Overall, I'm glad you liked this. I knew it wouldn't get much attention to begin with -- all my favorite stories only end up with about 15 comments by the end of one year, but that is how the ball rolls... I'm so flattered by your kindness and words.
23 Feb 2004:-) Adrian H. Wood
Hey! I really enjoyed this, stylistically its very impressive and your choice of imagery is great, so much so that the piece would be even stronger with more of it I reckon! The tone is so opressive and cold *sob sob* guess someone wasn't a very happy bunny at the time of writing 12. anyways...really feelin your work, keep it up!-evil laugh-

Ah, more description? I think this is about all I can dish out for this piece O.o
23 Feb 2004:-) Dtauri
Oh I meant improved from your earlier stuff (I thought you'd written Faery Jar and a few others a while ago?)

I'm talking about David Lynch the director of Dune, Blue Velvet, Twin Peaks, Wild At Heart, Mulholland Drive (too much info ;-) Many of his films have shifting realities and non-linear narratives where the disorienting mood is sometimes more important than the tangible reality (at least in my unlearned opinion it is).

I like your point about the title - I sometimes get a title in my head first which informs the entire piece. It's awesome! And haha - naming the Harley - cool! The Sounds Of Lace is definitely a cool name 1I've never seen any of those movies, but now I shall look into it!

Oh no, The Faery Jar is quite an old piece and I've been fixing it up here and there, but I've just given up. There's always something wrong with it (like every piece), so I shall leave this one in... well, peace.

Yes!! Exactly! At least you know what I mean by that 2 And of course I would name my Harley after this! Hee ^_^ I'm not parsel to loud mufflers, I like the quiet ones...
24 Feb 200445 Jennifer L. Martin
I love lyrical short stories! They have the advantage of prose in their length and detailed descriptiveness, and the benefit of vague 'everyman'ness like poetry. This is a wonderfully evocative piece - it makes me wonder where she's from, and if she's going anywhere. Maybe there's anywhere left to go to? And I really like how in the end, she's reduced to hiding in the playground, listening to the sounds of lace instead of the laughter of children. Angsty goodness!Oh, I shall be treasuring and re-reading this comment over and over in the future. I don't know, I just like to torture my characters, methinks...
2 May 2004:-) Mo Demich
Oh my god oh my god I'm in love with this. I love it! It gave me chills this is so awesome Emily... My favorite, no contest. Reminds me of my own thought processes. Ooooohhh... pretty preeeetty...Well... actually I just fixed it up O_o But I have to wait before I can replace it... yeah... O_o It's all new and shiny... no more "you's" O_o
14 Jul 200645 Anonymous
This was really good!!! I liked it alot. Great Description and all that stuff. Keep Writing! ^.^
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'Ribbons of Lace':
 • Created by: :-) Emily Grist
 • Copyright: ©Emily Grist. All rights reserved!

 • Keywords: Chair, Dark, Girl, Lace
 • Categories: Demons, Imps, Devils, Beholders..., Vampires, Zombies, Undeads, Dark, Gothic, Celtic
 • Views: 677

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