The clatter of porcelain and glass slammed and shattered against the ground. With that noise came the running footsteps of Ms. Chrysanthemum. She practically threw herself onto the floor, pulling her antiques close to her. She almost shed a tear at the sight of a small chip on one of her ÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥œbabiesÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥, as she called them. Her smile faded every time she spotted a new speck of dirt, a chip of paint, or any mishap that showed itself on any of her collectables.
ÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥œOh, my poor darling!ÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥ she yelped and scooped up the few objects that had fallen. She ran through the halls of her home and gently placed the antiques onto a tablecloth which lay wrinkled on a wide, wooden desk. Around the objects, various crafting supplies, sewing materials, and clay products were spread out in a sloppy manner. She sat down on the small cushioned stool beneath the desk and got to work. Her frail hands shakily dragged paint globbed on a paintbrush over the scuffs; her eyes were wide and ready to fix all the flaws. Time was nothing to Ms. Chrysanthemum, for she was completely alone: No husband, no children, no mother, father, sibling ÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥” not to mention, her lack of friends. The reason was simple: she looked petrifying. The state even paid her to stay away from society. That is how ÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥œuglyÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥ she was. ÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥œA witchÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥, the people would scream, ÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥œA goblin, a werewolfÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥¦a monster!ÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥
From birth, Ms. Chrysanthemum was excluded. Her own mother tossed her into a barn, leaving no note or any sort of item to show her undying love for her daughter. Even foster homes wouldnÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™t accept such a creature. They all called her Chrysanthemum, for the face that was simply shreds of flesh attached by skin appearing to be a flower. Her mother didnÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™t even waste time trying to name her. The nickname became her legal name after she became 18. This was when she went looking for work. Of course, all of the stores, shops and restaurants declined her.
One day, she was out searching for a job when a policeman stopped her. This was how the state noticed her. They saw how inhuman she appeared and knew it would cause a disturbance if enough people saw her. In secret, all of the top people decided to pay her to stay hidden. They found an abandoned home (the owner had passed away decades ago) and fixed it up to the best of their ability. This was truly her dream home. The only catch to her ownership of the home was to stay inside at all times. Of course, she can go outside and take walks through the woods, but that was the final line. That was all her freedom was.
As the years went on, she had very little human contact. Her only source of this was her delivery woman, Luella. Ms. Chrysanthemum would purchase antiques from the catalogs and request certain items from Luella. Ms. Chrysanthemum would call Luella her lifelong friend, though she was simply doing her job.
One day, Luella drove up into Ms. ChrysanthemumÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™s driveway and hopped out of her car.
She jogged around the vehicle and swung the back door open. After grabbing a bag of Ms. ChrysanthemumÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™s requested items, she walked up to the front door and knocked her usual two times. When there was no response, she knocked once moreÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥¦Maybe one more time? Maybe a shout?
ÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥œMs. Chrysanthemum?ÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥ Luella yelled through the door. Another moment in silence passed, and Luella began to worry. She crouched down and set the bag of old teapots, porcelain dolls, and other assorted antiques beside her feet before lifting the flower pot beside Ms. ChrysanthemumÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™s door. Beneath it lay a spare key. Luella unlocked the door and stepped inside. She roamed the home in search of just one sign of Ms. Chrysanthemum, yet she found nothing.
As Luella searched the house, a putrid scent started inviting itself into her nostrils, a stench so strong it made her gag. Just as Luella turned the corner, a sight that made her widen her eyes revealed itself. The frail body of Ms. Chrysanthemum lay with her head hung low in her arms. There was foam seeping from her cracked lips, giving a sign that it must have been a natural death ÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥” perhaps an extremely aggressive seizure. In horror, LuellaÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™s mouth sat wide open as she stared at the scene in front of her. ItÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™s not like Luella had a close relationship with Ms. Chrysanthemum, but she was all Ms. Chrysanthemum had. That simple truth will eat at Luella for the rest of her life. Ms. ChrysanthemumÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™s maggot-filled eye sockets and her protruding, rotten lip was now a permanent image in LuellaÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™s brainÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥¦
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