Scylla, the captivation
Adriana Lai | Port Melbourne Primary School |
5/6 English | Term 4 2024
Her whole life had been betrayed. She remembered the faint images in her head of being in the orphanage, always the last one with her name tag dangling and glistening with the name Mylo as if it were openly mocking her. But that was all before the fire. The blaze of crimson and amber spread throughout the halls. The cries of joy turned to sorrow.
Rattling the lock led her to start banging her hands on the door weeping for the nuns of the orphanage to let her flee, only to be met with cold harsh words instead of the sweet words of the nuns” you’re a curse Mylo, you were never meant to be born”. Her red ruby hair.
Something she hates about herself, ending up as the sole survivor from climbing out a window. The moment she got out she held a sharp blade to the tips of her hair. Hair holds memories.
She hated reminiscing on her childhood she always tried not to, she always blames herself whether or not it was her fault. She thought she could trust them but no. No one in this world has pure intentions is what she believed; but the light of people was almost as captivating then her own values and worths. But she knew that her everlasting thirst for revenge needed to be satisfied. The corrupt figures of society lay their hands on people as if they were dolls, fragile but worthless and can be shattered within seconds, pulling the strings however they like to. She wouldn’t mind dying while trying. As she took in the last eupnoea of air ending her life of nonchalance to start something new.
She would have to try to slowly take them down, whether politically or physically. A revolution, the beauty of the masquerade of corruption. Some might call the fight a dance of words and bloodshed, the steps of each secret led to another. To start a dance you need two, but only one to end.
Her ragged scarf wrapped tightly around her neck, holding sorrow memories of the past forever stained red. Her stubby and short hair stood by her neck with her red roots slowly exposing themselves through her dyed black hair, her expression grim with dark scars of the past scattered across her face. The lingering scent of urine stung her nose, reminding her of how the city has changed within years. Those who didn’t ‘belong’ were slowly excluded and discriminated against only to end up here, she was one of them. They were her family, she believed family was determined by how they treat you rather than blood. But she knew family would never last forever.
The preparation for the war was filled with cries of mixed emotions, they were sure to win. That’s what she told them. The shed of blood and cries of mourning for the beloved, they had won? The silence of the battlefield had turned into an uplifted mood. The colours of red flashed before her eyes, the sickly colour of blood slowly dripped from her stomach rhythmically matching her heart beat each drop leaving a ringing sensation in her ears. It had only been a distraction, she slowly caressed her hand over the tip of the arrow before falling over like a limp doll.
