Ana signed up for a creative writing challenge… She was given the horror genre! Get ready for spooky season and read her short story below.
WARNING: Contains Strong Language
Drop Dead Gorgeous
“Blood-red lips are sexy as hell” says Alice as she applies her signature lipstick in shade Crimson. I’ve always thought she looks exceptional in that shade, it really compliments her spray-tanned skin. She fixes the gold tassel on her white graduation cap as she blows a kiss to the camera and stops the recording, only to run her flat iron through her blonde hair…again.
I watch her though the crack in the door of the bathroom stall, the razorblade in my left hand cutting into my palm. The same razorblade Alice left taped to my locker when she insisted I start shaving my legs because I was so “gross to look at”. She would stare at me and say “what a shame” when I changed clothes in the girls locker room.
But every time Alice leaves me gifts, like the scissors at my lunch table so that I can “cut out the fat”, she always insists that she’s “only doing me a favor”.
Alice takes a step back from the mirror to get a full body view of herself. I can smell the Chanel perfume mixed with her freshly burnt blonde hair as she steps closer to the crack in my stall door.
Of course she doesn’t see me, but I squat down to the ground anyway, with a perfect view of her silky calves putting in the work as her flawlessly pedicured feet stand on 4 inch white stilettos.
It only takes 2 seconds for Alice to plummet to the ground with an agonizing shriek as my razorblade slices through both her pretty achilles heels. The blood from her legs instantly stains the stilettos, the blood from her cracked head stains the white graduation gown. What a shame.
The shattering sounds of her bones as she slams on the tile is a symphony – her knees snapping, her soft nose dismembering. Her ocean-blue eyes look up at me with sorrow. One time Alice told me that the wrinkles in my neck were “horrendous”, so I went ahead and got rid of hers. And her stomach. Cutting out the fat.
The flat iron charging on top of the sink is still hot, perfect for turning those blue eyes into a sizzling black. The scent of her eyeballs burning mixes nicely with the Chanel perfume. It’s too bad she’s so gross to look at in her own puddle of burnt skin, fresh blood, and dehydrated urine.
Alice was supposed to deliver our commencement speech, but my classmates were astounded to see me step up the podium in maroon stilettos and fill in for her instead. I’m only doing her a favor.
Taken aback by my beauty, they recognized the strips of golden locks stapled on my head and legs. The layers of spray-tanned colored skin tied around my neck. The nails pressed-on my fingertips were once natural on her. And the crimson ink from her veins stained my mouth perfectly. Alice was right, blood-red lips are sexy as hell.
