Mortality of the bubbles

Bubbles cling to the liquid covered sides of the wine glass. 

With a smile my fingertips tapped at the cold glass , watching with wide eyes when the bubbles burst.

 Fizzling through the sprite with the speed of a shooting star . What a show it was but a rather short one .

 It took half a breath for the giant bubbles to melt into many tiny ones before the liquid finally devoured them completely. 

    With a sigh I took a sip from the glass , wheezing when my taste buds were greeted with lukewarm sprite .

      “ My sweet Marilyn, what’s the reason for your pinched up nose ,” Mama asked, while sweeping into the dining room with a well practiced hand painting her blonde lashes a full ebony.

       In all twelve years of living never once had I witnessed Mama use a mirror to aid in her use of mascara .

      Honestly it was a pretty impressive feat. 

          Every time I try to mimic her the mascara nearly pokes my eyes out .

         “ Sarah forgot to put ice in my drink again ,” I said .

     Mama eyes peered over at the closed door leading into the kitchen with a sigh .

      A sigh that reminds one of the hiss of a rattlesnake .

           Oh , there goes another member of the staff.

         “ Are you going to fire her ? “

                         “ Maybe ,” Mama muttered .

     A frown graced my lips but soon it morphed into a practiced pout.

     When Mama said maybe she had a nasty habit of meaning no .

  An answer of no will never do .

             “ Fire her pretty please with a cherry on the top .”

       Raising an eyebrow, Mama was quick to comment that I could survive the aftermath of one spoiled drink .

       Glancing down towards my ebony flats, I made myself busy with twisting locks of blonde hair around a finger and feasting upon a bottom lip .

       I imagine a car tire flattening a puppy skull onto a paved street to force myself to tear up .

       Just like my acting coach had taught me to do .

  Use your mind’s eye to see something horrific to be able to cry on command .

      A little tremble took over my form .

         I need to remember that a little tremble needs to find its way into my voice . 

        “ She is mean really mean , Mama. Sarah said she would hurt you if -.”

        My lie was halted with the simple motion of a raised hand .

    A wad of saliva nearly choked me while I silently waited to see what Mama’s reaction would be .

      It did not take a wild guess to know what she would do .

          Everything was always turned in my favor with a little pity show on and off the camera .

        Mama patted my head, handing me her mascara with a quick a tight smile.

      “ Sweet Marilyn I will take care of this foolish monster. Tell the driver to go on without me and remember to smile brightly all through your auditions .”

     With that mother growled out Sarah’s name with all the vile wrath of a Deity .

     I skipped away silently praying that the drive would be smooth as the mascara would surely poke my eye out if it was a rough one.

        Months filtered by easily with countless contacts and offers of movie roles .

         My face was quickly becoming a key feature on movie posters hanging outside and within cinemas.

        I was named the little delight of America , who with a simple bat of her eyelashes would see all her dreams being rushed to be made a reality.

     Months soon bleed into years.

        Childhood was in its twilight hour for me .

  The charming baby fat that clung to my face was sinking away like an ice cube in the sunlight .

     Instead of being gifted acting roles of the prized golden child, I was the key choice for the pretty bombshell .

     A simple minded archetype with a bright smile that the Superman type fell head over heels for .

      I was a damsel in distress in every film and show.

   Years finally gave birth to a decade of fame .

         Ice shifts around in the glass with a light crackle when I lead it to my lips .

     Instead of the bubbly sprite , an expensive brand of wine has become my favorite choice of beverage .

    Beads of water clinging to my soaked bathing suit are forcibly removed with the vaporizing touch of the sun.

     Wine feels like a dragon's flame drifting down my throat with a snail's pace.

     Pleasant but bitter, that leaves one taste buds feeling like they were just baptized in an acid river .

       My sunglasses do nothing to stop the sun from stealing my vision .

      Closing my eyes to the world, I am completely content to enjoy the sunburnt darkness.

      A nice nap is well deserved before the award ceremony tonight.

  With a ghost of a smirk , I placed the wine glass onto a nearby table .

      Tonight an Oscar will be mine .

         Butterflies seemed to lift my heart all the way to the gates of heaven.

     A giggle left me just in time with a bullet exploding out of a gun chamber .

     I tumbled out of the lawn chair with a spotted view of the world.

      Sunglasses were tilted on my nose , leaving only a single ebony lens to cover only one of my widened azul eyes.

     Blood drips from my hand or the stub of it .

     Glass shards cut my flesh and my bathing suit .

 Blood and exploded wine carved crimson drops into the white fabric of the swimsuit.

      I choked out the word help , barley catching my balance at the edge of the pool . 

        “ The security is already dead ,” The gunman growled, slowly moving around the fallen lawn chair.

     A sharp popping noise echoed from underneath his boot .

 Peering down at his shoes a tanned crush blob was all my mind could make of the sight.

      Then it clicks .

            “ My hand ,” I said , the gun is shoved against my forehead .

     “ We both have something in common you know ,” The gunman whispered with a steady finger already hovering a hair's length above the trigger .

       I battled my lashes in an attempt to fan away the falling tears .

    My lips trembled and bail seemed to linger at the back of my throat.

     With a child-like shriek I shouted for my Mama . 

            “ Both of our Mothers were murdered, Marilyn.”

       Then he pulled the trigger , grabbing my throat when the click of the firearm caused me to finch backwards.

      Piss filters down the inside of my legs .

              A shout was poison burning the back of my throat away.

        My eyes darted around searching for a way out .

              I closed my eyes and wished that a director would just scream cut .

       The gunman shakes me until my eyes open.

                He feeds the now useless firearm to the pool with a loud splash.

       “ Do you remember Sarah Anderson?”

     I am able to chock at a pitiful yes .

          I had to clean that woman’s blood off the floor after coming home from a failed audition .

     Mama had been too busy nursing a glass of wine to clean up her mess .

      Sarah's corpse riddled with stab wounds had been dragged out of the kitchen by the chef .

      Never to be spoken of again.

           She was not the last staff member to be fired .

          “ Not one will ever hurt my sweet Marilyn ,” Mama whispered into my ear before placing a crimson kiss upon my cheek.

     The kiss was only ever constructed of lipstick but the visual had always been haunting .

            “ Sarah was my mama ,” The gunman said , his deep voice drawing my mind back from the depths of the memory.

     His nails left deep indentations in the flesh of my neck .

       I tried to struggle or at the very least scream but he pushed us into the water .

        The last remnants of oxygen bellowed out of my mouth as bubbles .

      Clawing all around me , the burst of bubbles were breaking into smaller and smaller ones .

       The son of Sarah never let go .

       He wanted my lips azul and eyes cloudy .

           He wanted my skin clammy and quick to decay .

    The bubbles were devoured by the water .

           I was devoured by the water.

    A pretty damsel screaming underwater for help.

          For help that will never come.

    I wish that a director could just end this scene before the grand finale . 

      But there is not an all powerful director in the real world .

     The real world does not have a hero to save me .

           Damsels like me are only saved in the movies .