by Mitzi Danielsonkaslik
In the land of gods and monsters, I was an angel, living in the garden of evil.
A great rectangular table stood along the shortest side of a huge room in beautifully formed rosewood heavily laden with mountains of food upon silver plates and platters in an old elegant fashion. Beside, a massive assortment of cocktails in bright shades of blushing pink, decaying yellow and envious green in perfectly clean glasses; small and tall; wide and thin, adorned with heavenly decorations. Angels halos.
Unlike the cocktails, the guests and hosts and visitors all came in one of two formats: either handsome tall men in ironed tuxedos and polished shoes with neat brushed hair gelled perfectly into place or beautiful girls with long flowing locks and perfect shining shallow eyes gleaming in the low light, white skin plastered over so it appeared brilliantly unblemished dressed in cocktail dresses of wonderful shades with glamorous low cuts and elaborate matching jewelry.
Above the table, a huge crystal chandelier refracted the darkness which streamed in from the large windows preceding the table. The darkness gleamed and winked from all corners of the room, wandering its way between the lovers and brawls and drinkers and gambler who lusted and fought and drunk and bet all around. The chandelier glistened and blinked up above as starlight within the midnight blue of the ceiling.
The windows themselves were flung wide open and allowed all the bright lights and noise and merriment of the amusement outside in the garden to enter the busy hall. A huge carousel stood with flashing lights all around the crest in a multitude of colours which cast their own limelight down upon the guests as they spun ever round and round. Always seeking more. Forever. Eternally. Hair flowing in the dull breeze whipping it back as they flew in their sickening cycle. The inanimate horses towered in shades of black and grey with bright saddles and reigns and harnesses as they flew about with angry cursed looks of furious horror plastered upon their faces and their manes and tails projected in a place of perpetual movement with their hollow muscular legs and harsh hooves raised high as if galloping. As the carousel whirled, a chilling high-pitched waltz played from an unknown source up above. A sick herald to the heavens. The visitors on the carousel beneath gossiped and giggled at they spun their sickly pattern as a break neck pace with an oddly angry cursed looks of furious horror plastered upon their faces beneath their stupid painted smiles.
This is Heaven, what I truly want, its innocence lost.