Behind the Fairytales

Behind the Fairytales
© rights to the owner

Friday, May 29, 2015

✣ тнє ℓαѕт ∂αη¢єя

- It's not what it seems.
I was changes when Mya stopped dancing and Luke put it back in the coffin.- All of them are ... dolls?- Yes. I turned them to ensure that they continued perfect.- That's not right.- But they seem good, after all, are smiling.
He approached me with a new embrace, trying to comfort me.- Do not worry, I will not do any of that with you.
I do not know if he could trust him, at least not after that. Anyway, I could not show distrust, not now. I might be close to finding out the reason why my father hated him.- Come with me.
In a neighboring room where was the scottish dancer: Alison Angharat. A young woman with clear and long brown hair with honey glass eyes. The room was similar to Mya, so there's not much to say. I really feel sorry for them, however, Luke seems to be specific about the social class of them. Alison and Mya belonged to a family possessions. I wonder if the parents of these girls did not notice anything strange after that. However, I still did not understand what kind of "thing" had happened between him and my father.- The last dancer is the most important to me. For a long time it was the reason of my life and was a blow to me to have to do this to her ... I still can not forgive myself for that.
He seemed doesn't want to open the door, but he changed his mind for a moment.
We entered and as usual, the room was dark. When Luke opened the curtains, I could see a room even more elaborate, with furniture like a desk and a dresser with a mirror. The coffin that held the dancer was much richer in detail than the other and made of silver and crystals. He really was not kidding when he said that this was the most important of all.
I approached carefully, since Luke was taking the coffin lid, and his expression changed dramatically for extreme melancholy and pain.- It is much more painful for me than anyone else ... What she felt is nothing compared to what I feel every time I look at her. If I could, I would never have done that to her.
The Welsh dancer was really different from the others: her expression was naturally serene and happy, and not "designed" as the others. It was as if she knew of her condition and was completely happy with it. Her dark brown hair was straight and long, and her glass eyes were blue, but it was not just any blue: it was a pale blue, reminiscent of a lot more gray.- Phoebe was the most important in my life and the last part of my company. She was always much more skilled than the other two together, besides being innocent and sweet. However, her father not allowed her to be around me, much less have any kind of relationship with me. She was the only one to ask to be transformed into a doll and, ironically, the last person in the world I'd turn ... The only thing that comforts me is to see that at all, she is not completely dead yet. You look like her. There is no denying that you have the same blood than her.