Uploaded Fairy [ Editing ]
I was inherently against the idea of capital punishment, suicide even more so. Except for myself, whom I had never tried to prevent. I was left wondering what could have made a sixteen year old girl all those years ago, choose to poison her famille. Go on a hell bent penchant for destruction, a path that she knew would eventually end her life. I wandered around wondering what her life was like. It wasn't every day you found a girl threatened by beheading, as I stood in the crowd letting it happen. But I was inherently against the idea of rescuing people that could not rescue themselves. If she wanted to die, that was her business; I certainly had no interest in stopping it.
I used to want to court girls who I wanted to rescue, but would would prefer being shot in the back of the neck with a guillotine gun than court me. It developed the habit of generally avoiding French girls as a rule. And I developed the idea in my head that any of them were actually nice to me, they would stab me in the back. So it was just as well this was happening, as she would betray me later on. For Anna-Marie La Mort, it was assumption that she would have shot herself with her own Guillotine Gun. And as her neck was slipped into the stock, after being lowered on the board, I was more preoccupied by how sensitive I was to the sounds of the drum roll.
The angular blade sliced through neck in three seconds. The head dropping into the wicker basket, the blood dripping onto her face. As her head was picked up for all to see, I could see her fading expression on her face.
The face of Anna-Marie La Mort.
Between this lifetime and the next, in artificial heaven, one may meet their true love again. I met Anna-Marie Boeglin under different circumstances. It's funny how the circumstances of your life don't change one lifetime to the next.
She is the only girl I've ever truly loved.
There is nothing like having a spoiled beef with somebody. It was the year 2133 A.D., and I still haven't gotten a digital television. My family might as well ride on horse and buggies.
The thing about family holidays, is that I very rarely ever actually got to enjoy them, as I would so often have to catch up on schoolwork. Why bother catch up on work, if you're only going to get half credit for it, it's really more of a teacher's benefit than it is to the student's benefit. Christmas and Thanksgiving were the only holidays besides traditionally Irish ones I got to celebrate with any regularity.
If you've ever seen a slab of corned beef, you'll know exactly what corned beef and cabbage looks like. My mom used to make this for dinner from time to time on Irish/Scottish holidays although her own family was Welsh. Usually it would come in the form of a soup, I suppose as that is what is considered traditional. Can you blame me for initially expecting it to be my dad who would poke his fork sometimes, and just saying I just got less than I was expecting? The corn beef in the bowl would eventually go completely missing, and dad would just keep saying he wasn't doing anything. Obviously I was to docile at that point to really say anything.
So one night I checked the inside of the fridge, as it turned out the corn beef was seemingly dissolving. So that's what they put in that meat these days, I thought. Once again, as docile as I was I never made a sound about it. Well it turned out a few years later it turned out that studies would show that with some cows in a specific date, had almost an immortality gene. And so the beef would choose to eat itself rather have humans eat upon it.
So next time you get beef at the grocery, check the label.
You may have just eaten an immortal cow.
Now I once knew a girl who claimed to visit the arcades, however at times she would get locked inside those buildings when she was in to late and the staff had went on home. Her parents didn't seem to care whether she went missing. So her life was largely doomed from the start. She would tell me how at times various tap dancing ghost girls would haunt the facility, and that was part of the reason the staff would often leave early. So there would be her and these girls that would hang out. Unfortunately none of the girls seemed to like to much, at least initially that she would go into their home at night and try to continue playing those girls.
She told one night, how she wanted to play this game, that she had heard was taken off the available game list. The game involved pillories and guillotines. Heads up, you'll need to avoid sharp pains. Well eventually she managed to score some pink Teddy bears, she would give this to her little sister when she returned home. She would always arrive at home by bedtime, and so her parents never made a comment. They assumed as long as she got good grades then all was well. However one night, a particular girl wanted to challenge her.
So she tried to play this game.
Well lets put it this way, that's how I know ghosts can kill you. The blade humanely cut through her neck, and her head gently rolled off her falling body to the ground as she bled profusely remaining conscious for the next thirty or so seconds, mouthing words of something related to "tell me sister I love her."
But nobody would get the message. I found this out from scoring a job there once, and shaking my head is dismay watching a security camera. It wasn't like I didn't feel sorry for her, honestly if you didn't you were human. But there is something bizarrely amusing about watching a runaway die so young in a "OMG I want to bleed my eyes out" sort of way.
Her parents dropped her severed head in the grave. It was unmarked by their house, which they say her spirit still roams around looking for her parents.
So I thought I'd go visit her.
Maybe offer a bit of some corn beef.
I went to visit her grave-sight, and her mother came out with a shotgun, shouting specific curses in a language that sounded a little like French. Her family was marked by a particular matriarchal structure, so I politely raised my hands up.
"Sorry miss, just paying my respects."
"You were one of her friends right. Why weren't you there when she died. We were so worried about her." She was able to fall down, pushed herself up, heaved, and had a hard time not restraining tears. "Sorry, I know you didn't know she went missing. Here take her pocket watch, she wanted you to have it."
"But it's a family moment." I said.
"Just take it, ... we were going to burn it anyway." she said.
Her family, other than her sister, was only emotionally involved in her loss, only as much as mourning the loss of any other beheaded human being, although her mother really did seemed to be bothered I wasn't there to rescue her. But believe me, I had my own reasons for this.
But I hugged her gently.
I didn't want to see anyone cry.
"Here, have my corn beef."
How was I suppose to know it was mildly offensive to share food between an Irish family and an French family. But that's exactly how it is with my body language, as I ... roll my eyes, roll my tongue, and do everything else in a nuanced and personal way that makes things hard to communicate.
But I was human to, I drunk out my own sorrows.
And then finished a pack of cigars.