Just Desserts

Everyone in the local village pretty much from the first day at working in the bakery nicknamed me Sarah even though my real name was the much grander... Sophia. I had lived in a very rich family back in Italy. Dad was a prince but chose to retire because he was close to death. I was meant to be in the first in line to the throne but I was beaten by none other than my younger step sister Violet Ann. She always had what was mine! I could not stand her anymore and decided to go over to England and learn a trade to make a living for myself. The first day I moved over to England I chose to leave those pretty dresses be hide me!I wore t-shirts and old jeans to blend in. The English people are totally oblivious and that’s how I like it.

Every morning I opened the bakery the fresh smell was of bread and cream was heavenly! I worked hard from morning to night, selling cakes was a tough job it was sad to part away something you just made but I knew it would have a good home! I couldn’t believe my luck though when one of my wedding cakes was chosen in the Daily Mail’s Cake Competition. I was so excited! well I was...  that was when I saw the name of the buyer Violet Ann. I couldn’t believe that woman had found me all the way in England. She demanded the cake had to be made by next morning because she was to be married to Larry in the afternoon. I had no choice but to agree to her proposal especially since it was my only and best chance to get even!   

Next morning I just finished constructing and decorating my beautiful tower, the cake was spun in sugar, and cream with strawberries on top. It was my very own bit of heaven.  The strawberries were a fresh blood red. I kept dipping my finger to taste the cream, it was so addictive! At the same time I could feel a horrible feeling in my gut because I knew the cake wouldn’t really be mine. Violet and Larry were waiting outside the kitchen to purchase my cake; I could see Violet’s beautiful mango dress with feather bow tassels. She always look so elegant; a quaint doll shape of a woman but this was all just an act to seek attention. I knew her pretty life all too well.  I knew her secret; she couldn’t hide anything from me.  

Once we held an auction because dad and mum wanted to sell and auction their valuable items which was one of those family traditions! Me and Violet were meant to guard the items to make sure no one robbed us. However one of mum’s Egyptian rings was taken that day! My parents blamed me because to them... I was the irresponsible one! ... I was the oldest one! I found out Violet’s dirty secret though. She wore that necklace whilst she slept and she was indeed the thief that day.   Now she has come back to finish the final job and take away my valuable creation, well ... that is what she thinks anyway.  Her husband Larry was pretty much a simple old man, he was plain, grey haired and in a monochrome suit. I do not wish to hurt Larry because he is a very sweet and honest gentleman. I really feel that he is the idiot for falling for that bitch over there, when he would be a much happier man with me.

I knew Violet was pacing up and down outside the kitchen; she looked as though she was having a fit. This was excellent news! Then she stubbornly knocked on the kitchen door and said:

           “Where is my cake, hurry up... darling!”

      Her words hit hard. I could feel their bitter taste in my mouth.

         “It will be finished soon, be patient... honey!”

I could feel myself slowly losing control for the first time; I pounded the flour with my fist, battered the dough with the rolling pin in quick rhythmic pulses. Each aggressive swoop was calming. There was no way on earth she would get my cake too, even if that was to do the unimaginable... sabotage my own creation. I took away the fresh red strawberries and planted black ones around the cake. Found some curry sauce from the cupboard and spread it around the cake as icing and finally sprayed fermented milk as the cream. Violet took the cake and didn’t even bat a eyelid as I closed the door behind her. I couldn’t stop laughing because I knew her day will be ruined, it will be over for her in a matter of seconds... when that bit of cake touches everyone’s lips.

Part 3. Final Version Of Imprisonment

Part 3. Imprisonment Age 18 -20

The police scum always ruin everything! To them you’re an insignificant speck on their shoe; they really would want nothing to do with you and just want to air brush you away. I am fully aware and I’m not remorseful for my crime in anyway.  I know I should be punished. But the pig headed bastards at the very top deserved what they got; we do so much and yet we get... nothing in return!There is nothing worst when a police man smirks at you.  This one tied my hands and laughed at my face. This isn’t a fucking game! He tied the rope nozzle hard around my wrist. 

 “You are such a naughty little lady; you need to be taught some manners”

I was horrified and belittled to hear him speak in this way; I could feel him tying the rope even harder as his last words slowly slipped out! I could feel his two coarse hands nudge and pinch my arms and at my waist. It was that standard procedure you get in airports, to make sure you didn’t carry any weapons or drugs.

           

“You won’t escape!”

The police man held my hand tight, he would not let go.

         

  “Right miss, come with me!”

The policeman led me into a passageway full of cells; doors were painted white, the walls were white, everything was fucking white! I could feel myself not feel too well again, the sea sickness, the crash, walls moving inwards, and voices? I just wanted it all to end.  Everything from that dream is coming alive in this place and I could taste and hear the fear, it’s taking over. I have to escape but everything looked the same, doors were the cold empty white, I am the mouse in this nightmare of a labyrinth, he is the cat that crouches around every corner.  He led me into the cell but I pushed him down. He fell to the floor. I pinned him down with the full force of my arms. Quickly took out and grasped his gun firmly; I pointed it towards his head.

        

“If you shoot, you know you die”

I laughed at his feeble words at long last I was in control; I didn’t care about the law for those last few minutes when you know you are going to die anyway are the best you ever get because you stop caring about everything else. I tightened my grip on the gun; I could see flash of white specks in his eyes.

   “Well, I am already dead; law is the executioner”

I lit up another cigarette, dropped the remains of fiery dust on to his shoe. The prison’s wall was turning white to grey; again sirens and the alarm bells had alerted me. Policemen from other cells scurried towards my cell, their guns  fully loaded.

“Well gentleman, it was so good to see you all again.

  Too bad the confrontation will be short this time,

   but it is time so goodbye... bastards!”

In those last words I threw the cigarette to the floor, the room was no longer empty white but surrounded by a furry of red and purple.

Part 2. It Was Just Almost Too Easy Age 15- 18

Bored, Alone, Hungry, Bored, Alone, Hungry. It was that same record again! I was all out of ideas and couldn’t even stand the thought of living anymore.

The room damn it was always the same.  It was just… so incomplete, so quiet, and so empty. I just didn’t know what to do; it was the summer, this was a white washed scrapbook of uncompleted projects. I was not a child anymore. I just turned 18 a week ago and I decided to scavenge around for some money. I no longer want toys but cigarettes and alcohol; I need to drown those sorrows before they rise up against me.

I brought the items and slowly crept up into my room, the room lock clicked! I drank those two full bottles of wine; the glass made that delightful clanking noise. I played another CD in my CD player the track Almost Too Easy and it was on the loop. I took out the cigarette from the packet, I could hear the small snap of wood from the lighter fuel as it slowly lit up the cigarette. I breathed in the black smoke; some of it was rising up above my head. I had never really smoked before so I could feel the... drowning feeling again; but at the same time I didn’t really care! I could feel myself slowly not caring about anyone else too anymore. Why should I?  I was convinced I would die, die alone in this room.

I was half conscious, half dead but the outside world aroused my senses. It would be too easy just to die wouldn’t it though?.  It would be too easy to be forgotten in Time.To be booed on that stage. Words don’t feel good anymore, they are bitter.  I wanted to mould them, use them on everyone. No one would be safe. My audience will be captivated and blown away tonight!

II

I could hear the annoying crazy frog ringtone; someone had just text me. I found my mobile phone. 

“Clover, meet us at the toy shop near Market Street!”

I could feel that... excitement but confusion too. I sped through the streets on my motorcycle, my friends were already inside, they were laughing and taunting the owner. We were back to being those bad children again.

      “What are you ruffians doing in my shop, get out! Shoo!”

My friend took out his gun; this was definitely not one of the toys and he was pointing it at the shop owners head.

“I wouldn’t say that if I were you dear sir, now give me that dolly, my sister wants it!”

I was watching them outside the shop with a grin on my face. I enjoyed watching their games through that glass screen. What a show? I also saw a beautiful pink and blue doll through the mirrored glass. I wanted her! But I could also see my own distorted face in the mirror and I hated it even more. I wanted to smash it to pieces! I took out a metal baton and thumped it at the window...I could hear the delightful clash of broken up glass. All eyes were on me, I could hear the laughter, tears and applause!

I really wanted though to hear silence again. I wanted the voices to just go away.  Me and my friends had set up the fire and lights around the shop this shall be the huge explosion that will mark the end. We were about to cut the fuse, when we could hear sirens from the local police car pull up... louder and closer towards the shop.  The noises were on repeat, they were ... a distress signal. The policeman entered the shop. I could feel myself feeling… numb and empty again. This will be finished. I grabbed my mate’s gun; this was followed by a final gunshot and then an ominous mute of silence. The shop owner was dead, I could see nothing but blood, I could only feel... a pair of hands nudge and chain up my arms up to the wall. I shall never be free; but there was just no way to stop the show. 

Almost Too Easy Part 1. I Need Fuel Age 6-13

I cannot stand it; everything is too boring, too quiet! I need noise, distractions, anything! I hate to admit it but I just dislike ...being in that room on my own. I really miss my baby brother too. I remember his snores and even his moans but they took that away!  I even miss my annoying toy ringtone because at least when I hear those noises I felt ... something.I was never satisfied with the quiet life. It all started at the ripe age of 6. I would quickly grow bored of following that same old routine. To me... it was that same old jilted record! I wanted adventure; I wanted to do something... new. Mum and I had made a decision, we will change my room. I helped her paint those plain white walls.  When I used that brush... the green paint would always drip in clumps on the floor. Mum was a natural she was so good at painting, her green swirls were perfect, wish I could be as perfect as her! We had both finished painting the master piece on my wall it was marked with four green spirals. I could feel the power of the spirals; they would sooth me into a pleasurable sleep. Every bed time I pictured those spirals as the waves of a great sea and my bed was rowing through them but every morning I was disappointed to find that this wasn’t real. Mum would always encourage my fantasy though and leave the window open at night to let the wind howl through my room’s brittle walls.

The smell of the paint though had made me vomit. I always wanted the change but could feel myself falling... under a great, green sea. The walls closed in... I could hear unknown voices beyond those horizons. I was half asleep and got into my bed, the nuts and bolts below had broke though  and everything changed! I could feel the bed rocking back and forth... the bed then fell and I followed... it landed with a huge crash on to the floor. I unaware what had happened but mum knew exactly. She came up to fix the bed and wash and kiss my bruises but that... fear... drowning in that... great sea was worst! The peace in those calm waves  disturbed.

II Age 8-15

The next day I thought happiness had hit again... when my parents brought my first CD player. I could feel the excitement, the shiny exterior, the plastic feel on the hands. I placed the CD in the player, random music and voices in the background were playing. I could feel some confusion too because I could only hear voices and sounds, where are the people? Every day I would buy a new CD and replace it with a another one, however on my 15^th birthday I was tiresome of this hobby. I knew all the words to every song; I could feel again that I was ... turning into the jilted record.

 One day I decided to play the tracks really loud, I tweaked around with the dials. Metallica’s Fuel disturbed the calm, crisp emptiness of the paper thin walls in my bedroom. The words were pumping me up.

‘Give me fuel, give me fire,’

The words were so addictive, the words were pleasure. I was feeling happy and very high,

but then all music... stopped. I couldn’t move, I was out of breath. I was craving something right now but what could it be? Everything was just too quiet! Something had to be done and done tonight.

I just could not stand the quiet anymore. I would do just about anything for that loud and iconic life that rock stars plays every day. The explosions, the fire, the makeup, the costumes and the sound.  Nothing could be more perfect; I tried really hard to follow those heavy metal footsteps but would always... lag miles behind.

 I got myself a guitar smashed that poor thing to pieces. Hendrix would be proud but my parents all they could do was frown. They didn’t approve of destruction or violence but that just made me want do it even more. They punished me for destroying my guitar they took away my video games, took away my horror films but I would always have my way and get them back when they out of the house. Watching them gave me a buzz that night when I knew that they were forbidden! Everything seemed new and exciting again.

The following week I would next purchase and thwack drums with my metal fists but playing them every day would always leave my hands tired. Mum and I would have heated rows and the neighbors and I would not see eye to eye because they just hated me that way. However I got bored again, even Rock and Roll didn’t satisfy my cravings and I would spend my teen years pondering on what to do next? I was the typical drop out in school. I just hated authority so much... I would be a truant! Kiss the teacher... I got that man fired, but sadly I was... expelled too so the career path is out of the picture. I have to do something though and soon. I need to do something new... something never really been done before.  

Marked With Death

Leaves are my green corset,

they flutter to the dance

of the wind.

I grasp the twigs

in my bare hands,

the book in my lap

feels so empty,

there are no words.

I intend to decorate the book

with nature.

I press the flower into the pages,

I blink at them with eyes fully

open

I can see words.

The flower wilts to the side,

colors fade,
they smear into
corners of the page.

The Reflection

I see my reflection,

she grasps my hands,

the water sucks deeper

drags me down.

The world is a

distorted

    chasm

     surrounded

 by shadows

         that

                 creep

        around

         every

         corner.

   roads

  slide

   into

   the

  night

  with

   no

  light.

Houses glazed

with nature.

Gardens decorated

with false, fiery

bulbs.

House curtains camouflage

the windows.

The chimneys light

up their

heavy loud

load.

Red handed:

they blow

out.

The Feast

The shadows leeched

upon my body. 

I can hear them.

Their mouth foams 

with serpents. 

I feel them slice

me whole. 

They fight for affection 

sucking my heart

to emptiness. 

I gaze into 

the blood 

stained walls. 

I want to get out

my sword, chop their

tongues, to feel the
silence.