vices and curses have all defied, open

[NARCISSA DIANA WEST]

let these words
last forever

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The young woman exhaled slowly and felt the air leave her lips, expecting to see a puff of water vapor. But, of course, nothing was there, which earned a huff from the young woman. She missed being alive. She frowned and leaned against the headstone, slowly tracing the letters that were engraved into the stone. “Narcissa Diana West.” She mumbled to herself, shaking her head slowly. Every day since her death she spent it here. She attended her funeral, watching her body being lowered into the ground at this exact spot - in that pristine white casket, wrapped in the champagne colored ribbon with a bouquet of red roses, her favorite flower.

“Loving daughter...June 30th, 1987 to December 25th, 2007.” She murmured softly to herself, the same familiar words she had repeated to herself every day for the past six years. Well...it was more like five - Narcissa spent the entire first year after her death wallowing in the room of her parent’s home. She sat in the middle of the room, not moving, just crying and crying and crying - even though she wasn’t exactly able to...she was dead after all. She sat in that room and stared at the floor, even after her parents had moved and all of her things had been sold. After the house had been bought by someone new though, she left, and had found her way back to the cemetery.

Narcissa didn’t leave the cemetery either. She never met anyone else who was dead, only ever stumbling upon those who were visiting dead loved one’s whose tombstones were around her’s. She would attempt to talk to them and, obviously, she wouldn’t receive an answer. She wasn’t seen or heard by anyone who was living, and that is one of the main reasons why she wished she was still alive. She missed having friends, and having people to talk to. She took for granted her ability to communicate while living, and now in the afterlife it is what she so greatly missed.

The young woman sighed and slumped against the headstone, gathering a fistful of grass in her palm and scattering it along the top of the headstone. “There...some decoration for my grave, seeing as no one has decided to bring me any flowers recently. Though, I suppose I shouldn’t expect my parents to, as they were my murderers.” She mused quietly to herself, arranging the blades of grass in a line across the flat edge on the top of the stone.

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[melissaclark]

[atrb=valign, top, true][atrb=cellpadding, 5, true][atrb=valign, top][atrb=cellspacing, 0, true][atrb=width, 400, true][atrb=border, 0, true] [style=border: 7px solid #191919; width: 80px; height: 80px; margin-top: -5px; -moz-border-radius: 5px 5px 5px 5px;][/style] [style=border: 7px solid #191919; width: 80px; height: 80px; margin-top: -7px; -moz-border-radius: 5px 5px 5px 5px][/style] [style=border: 7px solid #191919; width: 80px; height: 80px; margin-top: -7px; -moz-border-radius: 5px 5px 5px 5px][/style]

[atrb=style, text-align: justify; background: #191919; color: #787883; padding: 10px; border-radius: 0px 0px 20px 0px; -moz-border-radius: 10px 10px 10px 10px;][style=height: 302px; overflow: auto; padding: 4px;]Melissa had not attended her own funeral. She figured that it wasn't worth it. She didn't want to bring pain to herself, and if that meant seeing her father sobbing and possibly even her mother after twenty two long years of abandonment, well, then she didn't want that to happen. The young woman didn't want to open up any unnecessary wounds (pun not intended) and not be able to get any closure about it because there was a veil separating the afterlife from the mortal world. But sometimes the bright eyed woman found herself wanting to see her grave. Wanted to sink into the ground and see how rotted her corpse was. That was a rare case, and it usually made her eyes well up with imaginary tears when that was the case. Most of the time she indulged in some vain urge to see if there was someone who had left something on her grave stone. Thankfully, the blonde woman was a well liked woman, and she found herself squeezing a heart that didn't beat when she read the notes attached to groups of flowers. And that was where she was that day. With her legs crossed on the ground and the grass cool against her cold skin. She read her name, and she read her father's loving words engraved on the tombstone. It was a nice way to feel, loved even though you were lost. A grateful smile touched at her lips, and before she decided to linger, Melissa stood up and made her way around the grave yard. She peered at certain grave stones, the ones that looked like they belonged to good people, and wondered if they were ghosts somewhere in this world, too. Slowly, quietly, Melissa noticed that she was not alone. She supposed this made sense. Light, hooded eyes spied a dark haired girl nearby, a few rows away standing by a gravestone. Melissa was yet to really interact with the living in any sort of way, so this seemed like a possibility to meet yet another ghost. Was that three, this month? Did time still pass as regularly as it did in the 'real' world? She tried not to dwell on it and instead focused on the strange girl she had spied. Sluggishly, Melissa carried herself carefully around grave stones as she approached. Her footsteps made no noise, or if they did even she couldn't hear it. She stood behind the gravestone this stranger was currently observing, and figured it belonged to this girl. Carefully stepping around and behind her, Mel stooped forward and peered at the lettering. "Narcissa, hmm? Interesting name. Is it yours, or are you visiting a friend's gravestone?" It seemed as the the slender woman hadn't been around to hear the sad words that left this lady's mouth not moments before. Melissa's thick English accent sat on her voice like a weight as she joined the stranger on the grass by her stone. It wasn't like she could physically harm Melissa. "No flowers, eh? That sucks." It wasn't strange for Melissa to greet a stranger as if they were an old friend. "I had an aunt that would leave flowers on random tombstones. She had a bit of dementia, but she brought smiles to faces, I guess." Mel spoke calmly, and eventually tilted her pale haired head to look at this person. "You okay, stranger?"[/style]

[NARCISSA DIANA WEST]

let these words
last forever

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Narcissa jumped at the sound of a voice and turned to look up towards where the voice was coming from. A pale haired woman found her eyes and she sighed slowly, her fingers running through her hair. “It’s my name. I don’t have any friends that are dead, so.” She slowly shrugged and turned back to face the grave, picking up a few more blades of grass and draping them across the flat top of the tombstone to create a sort of design. “No...no flowers. My friends don’t care enough to put the flowers on my grave...and my parents hate me so they won’t either. I wasn’t very well liked while I was alive.” Her voice was drained of any emotion, for she had become very apathetic about the whole situation of her death after all those years. There was still a pain in her chest, but she had learned to block it out. Ignoring her question, Narcissa stood, using the headstone as a seat inside of the grass, and balancing upon the stone.

“You’re dead, right? I mean, of course you are...otherwise you wouldn’t be able to hear me.” She shrugged, sighing slowly. “How’d you die? I see you as a sort of...suicidal person. But hey, I could be wrong.” Narcissa wasn’t very nice, and maybe that was one of the reasons why she had died so young. She knew the main reason, but being a bitch on top of being so incredibly selfish and spoiled seemed likely. She ran her hand down the side of her face, letting out a bored sigh. “I’m Narcissa West...murdered.” She said it so casually, like it was a normal thing to talk about, like everyone went around talking about how they died. Well...everyone that was already dead. If they were alive, they couldn’t very well talk about how they died. They could talk about how they wanted to die though. She shook herself out of her thoughts and turned her attention back to the woman in front of her.

notes; it's a bit short :c sorry!

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