With piercing beaks of melody, the music throbbed into her soul.
Mesmerized before her detested mirror, Gwen watched as beauty from deep within began to surface.
Scarred tissue from years of useless reconstructive surgery smoothed to a healthy pink glow. Jutting, deformed cheekbones melted bringing her beautiful blue eyes out of their dark caves of flesh. Clawed talons, separated into ten tapered white fingers: and yes, Gwen’s curved backbone, answering to the subtle chords of the Akuba beat, straightened, bringing her shoulders back and elevating her once heavy head.
As the beauty previously buried deeply in Gwen’s soul moved outward, it was replaced.
Replaced by something dark.
Something sinister.
Gwen felt this new outlook slither into the depths of her soul just as she
felt the muscles and bones in her body shifting. For the first time in Gwen Guthrie’s pitiful existence, she felt alive—euphoric!
**************************************************************
The Carillon Music Box changed Gwen’s life forever. She kept it locked safely away with her growing stash of trophies.
Gwen was beautiful. Even her mother’s fading beauty was no match for Gwen’s bewitching new glamour.
Men who before would have glanced quickly away in horror, now fell at her feet.
Gwen prodded the lifeless male corpse on the floor with the pointed toe of her new, red, spike-heeled pump. With a small penknife, she popped the two unseeing eyes from the face of her dead friend and cut away the excess veins and connective tissues. Two beautiful new trophies to add to her growing collection.
People would see Gwen now; she wanted them to look at her.
End
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