Scene One
Double Ponytail & Apricot
The sun poured through the bedroom window,
gliding over toys she no longer played with,
and landing on her silent face in front of the mirror.
"Don't pull the scrunchie like that! You'll ruin the hairstyle!"
Mama's voice every morning as she tied her hair into double ponytails.
Tight pull.
Stillness.
And a handful of hair ties, glittering like a silent command:
Smile and stay quiet.
As she stepped out for school,
she glanced back at the spot on the floor
where she used to play with her cat—
Apricot.
The white cat she loved more than any toy.
But Mama said he was sick,
that he needed to go live with someone who could care for him...
and just like that, he was gone.
But today, as she walked down the street,
something white dashed across her vision.
Familiar face.
Shining eyes.
A bouncy little step.
Apricot?
Her heart jumped.
She ran after him—forgot her schoolbag, forgot the tightness in her scalp—
just ran and ran, until she tripped
and fell.
When she opened her eyes,
the sky was violet,
the trees were whispering,
and a broken rainbow hung from the clouds.
And there he was—Apricot—staring back at her,
tail swaying, as if to say:
> "Welcome back... you've returned."
---
Scene Two — "The Angry Devil"
In the heart of that beautiful house we talked about,
she opened a door she was never allowed to enter before.
The door creaked... the room was dark,
except for a faint red light glowing from a flickering bulb.
A crashing sound echoed from within.
She saw him:
Her father.
His face was hard to make out.
His body—massive, built from dark metal.
Muscles like bolts, not flesh.
His voice thundered—not words, but shattered phrases.
Distorted noise.
He smashed a table.
Threw papers across the floor.
His anger wasn't aimed at her.
But she stood frozen at the doorway.
Her eyes wide.
Her inner voice whispered:
> "He's upset... but if he sees me now,
he might get mad at me too."
He didn't look at her—
but then his head turned slightly.
And for a second,
his face was revealed.
Not a face.
A mask.
A burning one.
But the fire didn't scorch—
It was... hollow.
Empty.
Like no one was inside.
She ran.
Fled down the hallway.
But even as she ran,
his broken voice echoed through the walls of the house—
and the house itself began to shift.
Its beauty drained out of it.
The warmth vanished.
Everything turned cold.
Everything dimmed.