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Not So Beautiful Revenge


by liannachick

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Perched in the tree, I watched the little Acara play, my disgustingly elongated red nails tapping the tree trunk. My long, ratty orange hair blowing in the wind. I sighed as I watched her make darling daisy chains in the field before me. She was so pretty and vain. Yellow, blue, white, and pink flowers grew around her. She would pick one up and carefully string it onto her chain of daisies, her green eyes sparkling in the sun. When one chain was completed she would scoop it up and delicately place it around her neck. She would bend down and kiss the flowers, her long hair falling over her face. Then she would pick the healthiest, most stunning flowers and braid them into her hair, humming sweet tunes all the while. The Acara came here every day. It was a lovely scene. Too lovely.

     She reminded me of how I used to be- how I used to look. I sighed and pulled out a beautiful deep blue mirror. The edges were perfectly smooth. The color was amazingly pure. But the mirror’s intentions were not pure. They were tainted. I turned the mirror to face me and peered into it. I almost jumped at the image staring back at me, although I had seen it many times before. I stared at my face reflected in the mirror. Orange, matted hair grew all over my body, where once silky blue hair lay. Sore, red eyes, and swollen eye sockets gave me the appearance of a monster. My teeth were yellow and jutted out at odd angles. What happened to the once pretty Aisha’s reflection that I used to see? That Aisha is not me anymore. Inside my head I let out a shriek of rage! Why should one so pretty turn into a despicable creature!? No one should be beautiful if I can not be. No one would escape my revenge. Fuming, I turned to face the little Acara. She stood up, all of the chains hanging around her neck and flowers in her hair. She began walking in my direction. I made sure the leaves were covering me. No one could see what I had turned into.

     “I wish I were the most beautiful Acara in the whole of the world,” she sighed, as she came closer.

     No one should be beautiful. No one will escape my revenge.

     “You are pretty,” I whispered, “Only I can make you beautiful.” An insane smile spread across my face, blocked by the leaves. Everyone would pay for my longing!

      For my pain! For the cruelty which I was treated with! Beauty would become repulsive. In a way I was failing. The motives of the person who gave me the mirror must be the same as mine are now. But that does not matter, for I see the world through the same eyes as they had now!

      The Acara looked into the branches, a confused, but pleased expression on her face. “What is your name?” I asked, still whispering.

     “Vira,” she said, dropping her voice to a whisper. She peered up through the branches, trying to see me, but she couldn’t. If she did she would have run away in fear.

     “Take this, my dear Vira,” I said, madness taking over my voice. I handed her the mirror, cherishing the feel of the wretched object leaving me forever. “Look into the mirror, Vira! Look into the mirror and see true beauty!” My emotions rose, as did my voice. Soon she would do as I did. She would become unrecognizable. She would spread the curse throughout the land. Soon repulsive, horrible neopets would be the only type of neopets in the world. Joy filled my icy heart.

     Vira took hold of the mirror and quickly held it up to her face. She did not even take time to examine the magnificent color or the smooth texture of the mirror. All she cared about was her own beauty. She squealed with delight as she saw her reflection. Her eyes stared back at her, emerald green and full. They were like pools of green water, surrounded by black, perfectly curled eyelashes. Her fur was now silky, soft and shiny. A perfect blend. There were no marks or tangled hair on her now splendid jade green coat. Her claws were long and shone bright in the sunlight. Her cheeks were rosy. She was the mirror image of beauty.

     “Thank you!” Vira cried happily, still gazing into the mirror.

     “You’re welcome,” I said, a wicked grin spreading across my face.

     Soon after Vira skipped home, a smug, satisfied look on her face. I watched her go, satisfied, for the moment, as well.

     The next day, as usual, Vira appeared in the field. She sang loud and happily. The tunes floated across the flat field. I watched her gleefully, though from another tree. She still looked beautiful, as I once did. But soon she would turn as ugly as me! The thought made me smile.

     Each day Vira would come to the fields and each day her coat would be less glossy, her eyes less bright. Soon she grew thin and her hair began to fall off. She no longer sang, but sadly picked up flowers and carelessly strung them onto a chain. Every now and then she’d glance into the mirror. When she saw herself she would cringe and look around hopelessly.

     At first these viewings gave me joy, for I was not the only one who had suffered. But soon I began to feel something I never had felt before: pity. Yes, I had felt self pity, but never pity for others. I sighed and turned away from her. I couldn’t watch the poor child any longer. What had I done?

     One day I heard a mad cry from the fields. I turned to see Vira tearing at the flowers around her. The transformation was complete. Vira’s beautiful green fur had thinned and turned a sickly yellow color. Horns sprouted from the top of her head. Her eye’s which were once pools of green were now pools of red with small, pale green slits in the middle. Horrible, skeletal wings had sprouted from her back. Her nails grew long and red.

     “Look what you’ve done to me!” Vira screamed, pulling at her hair. “Look! Whoever, wherever you are! Look!” Her cries turned to sobs and she slumped down in the grass. She picked up a pink flower lovingly and held it to her chest. After a while she kissed it, like she used to. However, nothing was as it used to be. Vira stood up abruptly and screamed. The flower she had just kissed lay black and crumpled on the ground. The edges of the petals had turned red.

     I looked away, ashamed. I caused poor Vira this misery, thinking it would make me feel better. Thinking it would ease my pain! But it made the pain worse. Now Vira would spread the contamination on to others, countless others. I peeked back at Vira to find her flying away, the opposite way of which she had come.

     The next day she appeared again. Her usual adorable blue dress was replaced by a black witch dress. Her face was tainted with madness. Laughing hysterically she picked up numerous flowers and kissed them. They all fell black and crumpled around her. She picked them up and threw them into the air. Her hair was now too short to braid flowers into.

     Vira hadn’t been to the field for a few weeks. The next time I saw her, she was carrying a large brown box. Carefully she took the fragile contents out: ten mirrors. They were black with red outlines. She delicately picked up one mirror and caressed it, affectionately whispering words to it. She had been whispering magic to the mirror, creating more mirrors that would produce a twisted reality, destroying people’s hope and dreams. She held the mirror away from her and examined it. After some thought, she pulled the mirror close to her once more. “There is only one way to get your beauty back...” she whispered, loud enough for me to hear, her voice dark and mysterious. She performed her magic on each mirror, and glanced at the tree where I had given her the original mirror, a look of hatred on her face. I can not blame her for hating me. Her unhappiness and evil doings were my entire fault. I was to blame for the whole mess of things.

     She turned back to the mirrors, a satisfied expression on her face. “Soon all will be as ugly as me!” she yelled, crazed. “Everyone will pay for my awful contortion!” She paused, “Unless someone will make me beautiful again! For no one can be beautiful if I can not be!” She smiled at her plan and flew away, mirrors in hand.

     She rarely returned to the field. Each time she did she would kiss the fragrant, colorful flowers, and turn them hideous and poisonous. Sometimes she would create more enchanted mirrors. And each time she would touch them lovingly, thinking they would relieve her sore heart.

     Little did she know that revenge does not ease pain.

The End

 
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