Post by windrider86 on Jun 3, 2011 19:01:17 GMT -5
The Simpsons and all its related characters belong to Matt Groening and Fox, and all that stuff… This is my second story, a bit longer, and divided in a few chapters. Enjoy!
Darkness
Chapter 1: Welcome to Hell, Allie
Hello to you all. My name is Allison Taylor. Most of you know me - if you even know me- as Lisa Simpson’s best friend. But what I’m gonna tell you has nothing to do with Lisa, or with our friendship.
As many other children, I’ve been afraid of the dark for quite a long time, but when I entered puberty, I realized it was time to face my fears. As I was sent to a catholic boarding school when I was eleven -courtesy of my religious mother-, I had no other choice, either. I won’t bother you with all the pain and sorrow they made me live; I’ll only tell you about the events that will let you understand the whole story.
It all began the very first night I spent in that horrible place. We were two dozens of girls sleeping in the same big, dark and cold dormitory… and I realized pretty soon that sleeping it was the last thing I was gonna do in that creepy room. My old and truly unpleasant bed was in the corner, very far from the creaking door, making me, a lonely, shy and nerdy girl, the perfect victim for more than twenty girls. I knew what was gonna happen, and I told myself: “Welcome to Hell, ‘lil Allie Taylor”
And poor ‘lil Allie Taylor began to learn how cruel a bunch of nasty, unhappy girls can be. As a “warm-up”, they insulted me for nearly an hour, using terms I won’t dare to repeat. Then they went on with the threats -most of them fulfilled in the following months- and then… the next step could be only one: they got me out of bed and began to push me from one side to another. Then they hit me and slapped me, laughing like hyenas… oh, still today I remember the sound of their hideous laughter… Before going further, they stuck a handkerchief on my mouth, so I couldn’t yell out for help. And I had really good reasons to yell. They pricked me with needles and pins, even hairpins, leaving my arms and legs like pincushions; without stopping this torture they started to pull at my hair, tearing out several locks. Heaven only knows what I did to them -perhaps the mere fact of being there and being an easy victim- to receive such a painful punishment.
And they didn’t end there. All the pricking torture was making me cry like a waterfall, as I have a very sensitive skin; my tormentors noticed this fact and didn’t forget about it. Being unable to cry, despite I tried to do it with all the force of my lungs, it was a true miracle I didn’t get suffocated with the dirty handkerchief in my mouth. When they guarded their metallic instruments or torture -waiting for the final act-, four of them grabbed my legs and arms and began to toss me up and down, stopping me a few inches away from the floor… until they got tired of stopping me. My whole body hit the cold, hard floor; my knees nearly got broken, and my uncontrollable and desperate sobbing only cheered ‘em up. What in Hell were those devilish girls? For sure they weren’t human.
As my sore and hardly punished body was lying defenseless on the floor, at least a dozen of hands ripped off my nightgown. What could come next? They began to scratch my whole body with their nails ‘til they made me bleed; when they got tired, they threw me again to the floor and put me face down. Pressing me hard against the cold stone, they grabbed firmly my ankles and wrists. I knew what was coming next: they began to prick my hands and feet. Along my palms and my soles, in every finger and toe… Maybe it was because all the accumulated pain, but for me it was the worst part.
When they eventually got tired and went to bed, I stayed there, lying on the floor, weeping and sobbing with a dirty handkerchief stuck in my mouth. Almost naked, with my pale skin covered with thousands of torture marks, I didn’t dare to move for many minutes.
As I finally tried to get to my bed, I realized I couldn’t put my hands or my feet on contact with anything, so I had to make my way crawling along the floor, moving my hips and using my elbows and knees to advance. When I reached my bed, I somehow managed to climb up the mattress and I stood there, face down. Then I got the handkerchief out of my mouth and began to wipe my tears. As my hands searched for my stolen pillow and sheets, I noticed something sticky was pouring out of them… it didn’t surprise me, and my feet were even worse; I barely could walk during the following days.
But despite all what they had done to me that dreadful night, or maybe because of it, I resolved to show everyone they couldn’t be able to break me down. They wouldn’t defeat me. I was gonna teach ‘em all something Lisa had told me once: “The power to endure harm outlives the power to inflict it”
There and then, lying in the darkness, I made a promise. What I didn’t know, is that darkness heard me, and it made its own promise: it would help me to fulfill my promise…
But someday, I would have to pay the price…
Darkness
Chapter 1: Welcome to Hell, Allie
Hello to you all. My name is Allison Taylor. Most of you know me - if you even know me- as Lisa Simpson’s best friend. But what I’m gonna tell you has nothing to do with Lisa, or with our friendship.
As many other children, I’ve been afraid of the dark for quite a long time, but when I entered puberty, I realized it was time to face my fears. As I was sent to a catholic boarding school when I was eleven -courtesy of my religious mother-, I had no other choice, either. I won’t bother you with all the pain and sorrow they made me live; I’ll only tell you about the events that will let you understand the whole story.
It all began the very first night I spent in that horrible place. We were two dozens of girls sleeping in the same big, dark and cold dormitory… and I realized pretty soon that sleeping it was the last thing I was gonna do in that creepy room. My old and truly unpleasant bed was in the corner, very far from the creaking door, making me, a lonely, shy and nerdy girl, the perfect victim for more than twenty girls. I knew what was gonna happen, and I told myself: “Welcome to Hell, ‘lil Allie Taylor”
And poor ‘lil Allie Taylor began to learn how cruel a bunch of nasty, unhappy girls can be. As a “warm-up”, they insulted me for nearly an hour, using terms I won’t dare to repeat. Then they went on with the threats -most of them fulfilled in the following months- and then… the next step could be only one: they got me out of bed and began to push me from one side to another. Then they hit me and slapped me, laughing like hyenas… oh, still today I remember the sound of their hideous laughter… Before going further, they stuck a handkerchief on my mouth, so I couldn’t yell out for help. And I had really good reasons to yell. They pricked me with needles and pins, even hairpins, leaving my arms and legs like pincushions; without stopping this torture they started to pull at my hair, tearing out several locks. Heaven only knows what I did to them -perhaps the mere fact of being there and being an easy victim- to receive such a painful punishment.
And they didn’t end there. All the pricking torture was making me cry like a waterfall, as I have a very sensitive skin; my tormentors noticed this fact and didn’t forget about it. Being unable to cry, despite I tried to do it with all the force of my lungs, it was a true miracle I didn’t get suffocated with the dirty handkerchief in my mouth. When they guarded their metallic instruments or torture -waiting for the final act-, four of them grabbed my legs and arms and began to toss me up and down, stopping me a few inches away from the floor… until they got tired of stopping me. My whole body hit the cold, hard floor; my knees nearly got broken, and my uncontrollable and desperate sobbing only cheered ‘em up. What in Hell were those devilish girls? For sure they weren’t human.
As my sore and hardly punished body was lying defenseless on the floor, at least a dozen of hands ripped off my nightgown. What could come next? They began to scratch my whole body with their nails ‘til they made me bleed; when they got tired, they threw me again to the floor and put me face down. Pressing me hard against the cold stone, they grabbed firmly my ankles and wrists. I knew what was coming next: they began to prick my hands and feet. Along my palms and my soles, in every finger and toe… Maybe it was because all the accumulated pain, but for me it was the worst part.
When they eventually got tired and went to bed, I stayed there, lying on the floor, weeping and sobbing with a dirty handkerchief stuck in my mouth. Almost naked, with my pale skin covered with thousands of torture marks, I didn’t dare to move for many minutes.
As I finally tried to get to my bed, I realized I couldn’t put my hands or my feet on contact with anything, so I had to make my way crawling along the floor, moving my hips and using my elbows and knees to advance. When I reached my bed, I somehow managed to climb up the mattress and I stood there, face down. Then I got the handkerchief out of my mouth and began to wipe my tears. As my hands searched for my stolen pillow and sheets, I noticed something sticky was pouring out of them… it didn’t surprise me, and my feet were even worse; I barely could walk during the following days.
But despite all what they had done to me that dreadful night, or maybe because of it, I resolved to show everyone they couldn’t be able to break me down. They wouldn’t defeat me. I was gonna teach ‘em all something Lisa had told me once: “The power to endure harm outlives the power to inflict it”
There and then, lying in the darkness, I made a promise. What I didn’t know, is that darkness heard me, and it made its own promise: it would help me to fulfill my promise…
But someday, I would have to pay the price…