| The Story of the Angry Princess: created by Robb White, (re-written version): written by jdodson |
|
   |
 |
| Join the official Shawna Loyer fan club: |
 |
 |
| Dana Newman was, without a doubt, quite a sight to behold. Her beauty was like that of no other woman and was equally unmatched. Dark brunette hair that shined a golden flow when the bright day's sun hit it. Eyes that seemed to tell endless tales of romance and fantasies. Lips that any man, or woman, would die to have touch their own. Her face and skin, so soft like that of an angel's touch, and a body that seemed to match one as well. "Perfect" many would say and they did. But while many gawed at her lushes beauty and enjoyed her company for all she was worth, there was one person who believed she was not perfect, was not beautiful... horribly ugly; a dreadful face with a body no better that held it on. Infact it was Dana herself who had came to believe she was not "good enough", or at less not even coming close to achieving that title itself. Day after day, make up... fancy dresses and gowns... even trying to act more feminine than she already possibly could, nothing seemed to change or enhance the beauty she desire so badly. Occasionally, she'd find just the right dress that made her glow with radiance, or just the right way to put her hair up, or just the perfect shade of lipstick. But the self-satisfaction never lasted long. By the end of the evening, she'd be back to her old ways. Of course, Dana wasn't beautiful and graceful all the time. Those who knew her more closely and those who lived with her, found a more deeper, distempering side of Dana. Dana had an unimaginable temper. She'd throw tantrums without warning, especially when being nagged or instigated by a family member or especially a stranger at an event or party. Being approached by a "well-dressed" man who's simply worn out his welcome; constantly complementing her or making extreme sexual advantaged towards her, wouldn't help the situation or help controlling her temper any easier. She indeed, knew how to take care of herself, as soon the unwelcome visiting male would learn... She would, most of the time, apologize to her family for her fits, but in due time, it was only going to become worse as time went on, the longer she hadn't found what she was looking for... perfection. Comfort was given, but not as easily expected. Being told "she was already perfect" or "beautiful enough" was nothing more than a provoke, an insult to her judgment and dreams. Fuel, that's what it was, fuel that feed her fire. Months down the road, things seemed to have been changing for the better, or at less that's what her family believed. The tantrums were, without a doubt, under control and less than uncommon. But Dana seemed more distant and to herself than she'd had ever been before. Friends were led to believe she had finally learned to "control" herself and her anger. "But the poor thing must be grieving heavily among the past were her temper took her over. Many disturbing memories, haunting her for the rest of her life. The poor child, it's not her fault." Dana sat quietly in her room all alone. A curtained window was right next to her fancy mirror dresser were she sat. The curtains, which were usually wide open with sun shine pouring into the room, were now close for the first time, in a long time she thought to herself. She turned her head towards the mirror, taking another glance at herself, then looking down quickly at her lap instead. Indeed she was pondering the terrible memories she had created for herself over the years. So many bad ones to remember, with even fewer ones to cherish. It had gotten so bad, her temper tantrums, that if she were to be in public during one, she'd storm out of the event, making an obvious "fool" of herself. Apparently though, that embarrassment wasn't enough for her. Some had actually given her her own nick name to match her dreadful personality... "Beauty the Beast." "How ridiculous" Dana said to herself, "but I suppose it was a perfect fit... for me" she continued softly. The only "perfect" thing to have came along for her theses past few months. She lifted her head to look about her room as she sat alone. A few cherry wood dressers and a very beautifully designed bed with four long bed post at each corner is all that filled the dark room. She'd remember, just then, of a time when she was trying to prepare herself for an evening out. One of the maids had brought in her towels for her daily "beauty bath", as Dana like to call it, and laid them quietly on her bed for her. The maid took notice of Dana's frustration in combing her hair, struggling in her preparation. The young maid, with all good intentions of course, walked up behind her and reached for the brush, already combing down another strand of long, brown hair. Suddenly, Dana's eyes widen with fury as she took notice to the woman's hand touching hers in the reflection of her mirror. Dana, with all her force, pushed back the woman hard, slamming her to the marble floor. The maid tried scurrying to her feet for fear that Dana would hit her again. Dana had already begun cursing vulgarly at her the whole time for even touching her. The young maid began apologizing to her, bowing her head repeatedly to show her remorse, as she laid on her side in pain, but Dana didn't seem to hear the woman's words. By the time the young maid had lifted her head to apologize once more, she notice Dana's fast movement towards the far corner of the room. All that stood in the distraughted* woman's way was a small dresser. On the dresser, dolls and other assorted figures stood placed, and a large purple marble vase neatly placed in the middle... of it. The fallen woman's eyes opened wide with terror as to what the young girl was planning to do. She pushed even harder against the floor, attempting to gain back to her feet for protection. Her left arm and back were heavily bruised from her fall which she had landed fiercely before. By the time the young maid could refocus on Dana's face again, Dana was already turning back towards her, the purple vase in hand. She continued to scurrying back with nothing but fear flowing through her veins. Dana's face... it was like no expression she had ever seen before, not even from Dana, in all her years serving the Newman Family. "Death" was all she could read in the woman dark brown eyes. Her attention turned back to the vase, too terrified to look directly at Dana herself. It didn't cross the young maid's mind that the vase, that Dana was holding, was of pure marble. It was a stub boring task to clean around during her days of work. How Dana was able to carry it with ease never hit her, it was unaturally heavy. The flowers and water that once filled the vase were now poring out all over the floor, as Dana turned it horizontally to it's side, holding it tight with both hands. Dana didn't seem to notice the splashing of fresh water and soft pedals against her long dress as the mess covered the floor. She began to lift the vase far above her head, using all the anger and hate as her guide of strength, tossing to large stone across the room, towards the filthy maid, with every intention of it smashing her. The maid, frighten beyond death, took cover with what was left of her right arm. The vase flew across the room at tremendous speed, smashing into the wooden bed post standing tall right next to the frightened victim. The woman, startled to death by the enormous crash, felt only the smooth, warm, water splashing down upon her maid's gown along with small shards of what was left of the vase, now laying shattered all around her, some pieces laying gently on her lap. She was not harm from the assault. "That story seemed like it could go on forever with no possibility of gaining a meaningful ending," Dana thought to herself. She remembered never seeing that same woman serve under her house hold again. She wasn't sure if the maid had retired after the event, or if she just had dedicated the rest of her life towards "avoiding" her herself. "If that was the case," Dana spoke to herself, "then she's doing an excellent job of it." Retirement would have seemed more realistic, but Dana had no idea what had truly become of her. Dana turned her head back towards her bed again. She stared at the two towels folded neatly across her well made bed. She stared... she stared for the longest time. Searching her mind for inspiration and life. No such things were found... The bathroom was classically decorated in traditional white. Everything was white. The sink, the shower curtains, the toilet, even the towels Dana held close to her breast were white as pearl. The only schism of white in the room was the checkered pattern of the large floor tiles, which danced in perfect balance with it's partner, black. Dana sat the soft towels on the closed toilet seat and leaned on the edge of the ancient white bathtub to begin drawing her final beauty bad, her last one. "Water... water... the water, it was... it wasn't too cold... but neither was it too hot either," now that Dana thought of it, if indeed that's what she was doing. "It felt, felt like nothing... airless... airless water." Dana's thoughts where of nowhere, she was gone. A burning, ripping pain soared over the right of her arm, followed by another, and another, till the burning slits made their way to her other side, tearing the veins in her wrist apart. Across her breast, up and down her entire white, soft torso. New scars soon pilled open just like before. Over and all around her neck, through the right nipple of her breast, and a gash that cracked open far across her wet, sweet face. With every new blow, an eruption of gore came flying out within. The warm, thick liquid gushed across her small body every which way. She fell back into her resting position, staring down at her own distorted body, as she felt her eyes go black. The bathroom, everything in the bathroom was now red. The shower curtains were drenched. The towels, which laid scattered tastelessly across the floor, were soaked in rust. The large tiles on the floor no longer danced alone in harmony with their partner black, but were now joined by two new partners... red and brown. The bathtub overflowed with red, and what lied inside, was red as well. In all the commotion, it was really uncertain who had discovered Dana's nude body first. One of the servants, or maybe her own parents. Beauty; even in death, she was still the most radiant person anyone could have laid there eyes upon. Even with her pale white, frozen looking skin. Even with her hair stained in dry blood. Even with her skin zipped open in more than a few disturbing places, showing the world what was inside. And her eyes, which were once brown, now blacker than the world's purest obsidian stones itself, she was still, still like no other. Pure beauty, she had had it all along, but never knew it for her own... Epilogue to a police report: Not until her body was removed from the bathtub hours later, was the "murder weapon" found. She had been apparently lying on top of it during the hours of her death. A classic chef's butcher knife. They assumed that she must have snuck down to the kitchen late one night, while everybody was sleeping, and stole it from the cook's collection. When the cooks were asked about it, they explained that one of five chef knifes had been missing from the utensil counter. That was more that two weeks ago, they stated. She had kept the knife rested in-between the set of towles that laid on her bed, were they concluded, she had forgot about it... ( she had no idea what she was doing at the time.) Fin |
| Visit 13 Ghost web site at: |
| This page is dedicated to Shawna Loyer, for beautifuly reenacting the role as "The Angry Princess" in the movie 13 Ghost. |
 |
 |
 |
| Visit Eternal Bebop at: |
| Tell's us what you think... |
| Hosted by Eternal Bebop The word "Eternal Bebop" is copyrighted 2002 |
 |
|
| Email me if you like, or if you find anything misspelled words, thanx. [email protected] |
| Story written and posted by jdodson July 15, 2002 |
 |
 |