Contest details:

THEME:
It was a dark and stormy night...

Write a scary short story, poem, play, comic or draw a scary picture featuring a lolita!

DEADLINE:
Entries will be accepted starting right NOW through Oct. 30th! note: extended deadline!
**Send your entries to loligirlsmovie@yahoo.com**

PRIZES:
Entries will be judged by the LoliGirls on Halloween! The winner/s will be announced on Nov. 1st!

First place receives a LoliGIrls poster and a LoliGirls mug!
Second and third runner ups get LoliGirls posters!

By XXX

The rain was coming down in sheets, but it couldn't bring down Jane. Her package came today! Her very first lolita OP! She had a petticoat and one sad looking skirt, but this was a REAL lolita dress: pink with plenty of ruffles and bows. She took it from the hallway and skipped to her room. June carefully opened the cardboard box. Inside, folded neatly, was her beautiful dress. She tried to look at all the details, feel all the lace - but excitement took over, and she pulled up her petticoat and threw the dress over her head. It was so pretty, just like the picture!

Just as she pulled up the zipper and began to pose in front of her mirror, something felt wrong. The collar was a bit tight. The waistband dug into her middle. June was sure she had the measurements right when it was ordered. She went to her computer to check, when both the collar and waistband somehow got tighter. She tried to unzip the back, but it wouldn't move. She tried to pull the whole dress off, but the waistband was so tight she couldn't move it. The gathering and shirring locked tight. She clawed at her neck, trying desperately to stop the pulling. Her vision got hazy from lack of oxygen. As she fell to the floor, she saw a dark form behind her in the mirror.

Somewhere, a mirror showed Jane falling.Then the image of her body melted and slid downward, into a waiting glass jar.There was a long line of glass jars.Someone smiled, and put another dress up for auction.

**note: some graphic content!**
 Last week was Pirates verses Sailors, today was Kuro and Shiro twins. It seemed that the trip was shaping up to be better than was expected for a trip to the “end of the earth”. It was summer vacation. Tasha Hart and her parents were visiting with Grandma and Grandpa Hart. Tasha’s friend, Kayla Sawyer, had also come along for the trip.

For this vacation they had been branded as CFA, “come from away”, by the locals. They certainly looked it. The little fishing community did not know what to make of the two high school girls who looked like something out of a fairytale, or at least like something from the streets of Japan. Neither of the girls cared about the stares they received. They loved Lolita fashion, and would not change themselves for the sake of society. Besides, they were enjoying themselves far too much.

The community in which Tasha’s grandparents lived was the sort of place you took a lot of books to. There was nothing to do. No exaggeration. There really was nothing. No mall, no movie cinema, there was not even a gas station! The inhabitants were lucky to have internet. What the community lacked in modern convinces, it made up for in beauty and history. The beach was amazing. It was not a prissy white sand beach, like the girls were used to, this one was rocky. Unforgiving rocks jutted every which way on the coast, constantly sprayed with frigid Atlantic sea water. There was also so much forest area; undeveloped and nearly forgotten woods. For the city girls, it amazed them that so much space would be left untouched.

It was being near the water they had liked the best, hence their Pirates verses Sailors photo shoot. Kayla’s camera had been malfunctioning. Tasha had been obsessing over perfection. All had been right with the world. The public wharf had made the perfect place for the mock battle. Some of the local fishermen seemed to have gotten some sort of enjoyment out of it too.

It was now their final week in the community, just enough time for one more photograph session. Also, they were both running low on books. For the past few nights they had left the written word and had listen to oral literature. Tasha’s grandmother was a treasure trove of stories. For Tasha, it was not amusing. She had heard the superstitious tales before. For Kayla, it was all new. She was a lover of science fiction and fantasy, and had recently been devoting more time to the fantasy genre. She had recently discovered George MacDonald’s ‘Phantastes’ and was enchanted with it. It was no wonder she did not roll her eyes when Grandma Hart began to talk about the fairies, unlike Tasha. Fairies were far from their minds as they got ready to go into the woods but not from Grandma Hart’s

“Oh my, don’t you two look precious!” Grandma Hart exclaimed as Kayla and Tasha entered the kitchen, where she had been kneading bread. Both girls were happy that at least they had one fan for their historically inspired wear. Kayla was all in black and Tasha all in white. Aside from color, the dresses were the same; empire waists, huge fluffy petticoats under their dresses, and old-school rectangular headdresses. “And where are you off to?”

“Just at the back of the garden,” Tasha said, messing about with the items in her backpack.

“How far back?”

Tasha rolled her eyes. If there was one thing she disliked more than her Grandmother’s stories, it was how she always needed so much detail.

“As far back as we need to go to find some nice trees.”

“Wear some odd socks then.”

“Why odd socks?” Kayla asked, tripping her head to one side.

“So the wee folk don’t get you, my dear.” Grandma Hart said with a wink.

“I don’t think such drastic measures are necessary, Grandma.” Tasha took their prop from behind the kitchen door. Her Grandma gave her a stare, hands on either of her apron covered hips. Tasha returned the stare, leaving the room. She returned a few moments later with some socks. Reluctantly, Tasha put on a white sock with pink polka dots, placing the discarded pure white one in her backpack. Kayla, put on a black and white striped sock. Tasha made a sign towards the back door, signalling for them to go before there were anymore delays.

 “Wait!” Tasha was already out the door, but Kayla stopped as Grandma Hart wiped her hands in her apron, and then held out a plastic sandwich bag to her. “Take some bread too, just to be safe.” Kayla nodded, taking the bag in one hand while her tripod was in the other, her camera in a case which hung from her shoulder. She was slightly puzzled, but remembered the stories from the night before. Bread should be taken with you when going berry picking or into the woods; protection against the fairies. However one was supposed to use the bread was beyond Kayla.

Tasha shook her head. “Sorry, but I did warn you that my Grandma was a little…” She began, once they were out of earshot from the house.

“I think it’s cool.” Was Kayla’s reply, “My Grandmother is no fun at all.”

“Your Grandmother is a sensible lady, reasonable… rational! Where as my Grandma is completely irrational! Why else would she be giving you bread crumbs!”

Kayla just smiled. Tasha was not as cruel as she was making herself out to be. Nearly two weeks at what she liked to call the “end of the earth” would make anyone tense. She was a city girl, and no matter how much she loved her family, she could do without visiting them so often. She really was a sweetheart, and her clothing reflected it.

Even today, Tasha’s dress was pure white. She could pull it off. Kayla knew it would never suit her. She adored Tasha’s clothing, full of teeth rotting sweetness, but it was not her. Neither was Tasha’s symmetry obsession. Everything had to be just so. She was old-school with her coordinating. No experimenting with her, very “matchy-matchy”. It helped her to be a beautiful lolita, a perfect doll.

The whole symmetry obsession also added to her love of opposites and mirror images; ‘Through the Looking Glass’ sorts of things. Hence they were in matching outfits, one in black, one in white, carrying a single prop, an empty frame (which they had found in the attic) that would serve as their mirror.

Tasha looked over her shoulder. “She can’t see us now. Just drop it.” She was referring to the Ziploc bag of bread.

 “No harm in it,” Said Kayla thoughtfully, not letting go. “We could even use it as a prop; maybe use it as a Hansel and Gretel theme?” Tasha was not amused.

"That old bag has been saying stuff like that for years.” Tasha was clearly annoyed. “She scared me to death as a kid! With her stories of fairies and ghosts!” To Kayla’s surprise, Tasha did not only appear frustrated at the memory, but it seemed her eyes were also about to water. Kayla could not understand. Wither there was or was not any fairies, what was to be feared from them if they were being protected by Grandma Hart’s advice?

“Well, never mind that now, look at this place, what do you think of it?”

Tasha did not think much of it and insisted that they keep walking to look for a better place to take pictures.

Both were pleased to finally find a place. The trees were less dense here, and many were interesting shapes, old as well. Blue spruces with their Christmas tree feel; and scrawny Aspen with skeletal leafy green hands.

They were finally able to put down the mass of things they had been carrying in their backpacks: snacks, camera, batteries, extra batteries, tripod, picture frame, and in Kayla’s case, bread. To Tasha’s relief, she was finally able to change her socks. Kayla did as well, Tasha had insisted upon it. With the dawning of their rocking horse shoes, the photography began!

The self-timer was a pain, but it was worth it. The pictures were perfect. Tasha had made sure of that. Especially the ones with the “mirror”, but the ones of Tasha by herself were her favourite. They were also the most boring to Kayla, but she knew Tasha adored them. Not because it was a picture of her, but because of the perfection she was able to create. The doll allusion, Tasha liked to call it. The symmetry; perfect split.

Even the afternoon seemed perfect. There was a cool breeze, so being in the woods was not suffocating, like it might have been. Of course, there had to be one flaw. Some clouds in the sky were looking threatening. Passing in front of the sun they made everything surprisingly dark. Everything was calm and peaceful. Kayla felt she could even hear the bread crumbs as she dropped to the ground. No sound besides this was made. Well, almost.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

Kayla paused. “There it is again.” Kayla held up her hand for silence. “That music,” A thrill went through Kayla. She stood, legs quivering, hardly knowing why. She had to know where the music was coming from.

“Kayla!” Tasha hissed. “Get back here!”

But Kayla was already gone, taking the bread crumbs with her, following the distant, merry sound. Tasha had no choice but to follow.

When Tasha finally caught up with Kayla, she was crouched, bag of bread crumbs still in hand, beside some bushes. Kayla held up her hand for silence. Tasha tried her best not to make a sound; the wooden soles of her shoes cracked a few twigs which made her cringe. It sounded so loud.

“Down there.” Kayla said, almost not speaking at all in her whispering voice. Where they crouched, by the bushes, was actually the top of a small incline. Below the incline was a barren patch in the forest. And there, dancing in a ring, accompanied by music unseen, was twelve of them. They looked no bigger than children. With their earthy coloured clothing and bright red stocking caps, they pranced in a ring.

Kayla was wide-eyed. Tasha was as well, though hers was a look of horror, while Kayla’s was with wonder.

“If only I could see their faces.” Kayla whispered, leaning forward ever so slightly.

 Her ever so slight lean was apparently more than the incline would allow her, and she tumbled, rocking horse shoes over maxi pad headdress over bread crumbs.

Tumbling down the slope, Kayla stumbled into their midst. Tasha yelled at her, rushing down the hill as she did. Kayla was not aware. She was so close to them. They seemed timid. Tasha made no sound now, only looked on in terror. Neither did Kayla, as she focused her attention on the one that stood closest to her. Reaching her hand out she saw the little figure twitch. No need to fear, she thought, I just want a look at your face. Tugging at the stocking cap, Kayla waited to be greeted by the sweet cherub face of a child. But none did appear. It was not a child but a decrepit old man. The moment of surprise passing, she screamed. The little man returned the scream. It lunged at her; a swift swing of her arm sent him flailing. Panic ensued.

Kayla screamed at Tasha to run, while Tasha screamed back at her. Neither intended to leave the other, nor did either know in what direction they should run, each waiting for the other to lead.

Though they were but the size of small children when standing beside the girls, there was power in numbers, and they knew it. They fought dirty. They went for the ankles. It hurt whenever one caught hold. Kayla was not sure if it was their teeth, nails, claws, or knives, but it certainly stung. They jumped too. One hung off the straps of Tasha’s dress, while two held either side of Kayla’s back bow. Swinging her body around, Kayla managed to knock them off. Their heads crashing against the closest tree; swift kicks sent the others away as well. In the free moment, Kayla scampered up the tree. For a moment, she thought all was well. The moment passed as she saw her legs. Her knee high socks with lace trim had claw marks on them that went further than the fabric, right to her flesh. She felt her head swim as she saw the blood; she clung to the tree trunk. It was Tasha’s screams that brought her back into reality. The creatures had let her be and focused their attention on Tasha.

They had her pinned to the ground now. They tore at her. Attempting to keep her limbs firmly on the ground, this worked for so long. Tasha curled into a ball for a moment. They unwound her; tugging relentlessly at her limbs. Her snow white dress was white no more. Dirt from the forest floor stuck to her dress and leaves in her hair, while blood stained her white stockings. In particular they liked to tear at the petticoat. The layer upon layer of chiffon proved great fun for them; considerable amounts of it were scattered about the scene.

Kayla’s head still swimming, she made an attempt to get back down to the ground, but the little men were not having that. A few had made it their business to ensure Kayla stayed out of the matter of breaking Tasha.

Tasha had gotten to her knees now. The dress was holding up well, Tasha not so much. They jerked and pulled Tasha’s left arm. To the delight of her torturers, her arm finally detached from her body. There was no stopping them now. Tasha gave a gurgled scream as one pulled at a bow at the front of her dress and another pulled at the back of her once perfectly curled head of hair. Her neck could take no more. Between the tugging and the slashing of their dirty nails, she was beheaded. They continued. They were breaking her. Breaking her apart like the doll she tried so hard to be. All too soon, they were finished. A scattered pile of limbs was all that remained. There was no more fun to be had with her. They turned their attention to the girl still in the tree.

Jumping quickly, they that had been at the bottom of her tree brought Kayla down to the ground. Kayla knew what fate they had for her. She would not allow it. As long as they cannot pin me to the ground, she thought, I have a chance. Her constant movement served her well, as did her wooden soled shoes, for a time. Falling face first into the ground, the wind was knocked out of her. She clutched at her stomach, but found herself clutching something else in the process. Flipping over onto her back, she clutched the nearly empty bag of bread to her chest for dear life.

The little men cowered, keeping their distance. Kayla’s head swam once more as she rose to her feet, struggling towards the incline where she had tumbled down. She backed away, all the while keeping her eyes on them, dropping bread crumbs as she went. She did not drop them all, the rest she kept in her shaking hands.

She did not look back after that. She heard nothing but her own haggard breath and sobs as she tried to run. No clutching hands did she feel, so she kept going. She soon found herself amongst her camera equipment. A screaming sob escaped her mouth, the reality that this was reality and not a dream was taking over. The straps of her shoes were falling down from where they had been tied around her calves, causing her to stumble occasionally. She did not stop.

Finally stumbling out of the woods and into the familiar back garden of Grandma and Grandpa Hart, Kayla began to cry. She had sobbed and screamed before, but now she was crying. Tears fell from her eyes, massacre running like veracious veins down her face. She looked an extreme Guro Lolita, a perfect example of how one could do the broken and battered doll look without wearing all white. She made it look so easy, with windswept, frazzled hair and random blood smears; though the tears in her socks may have been criticized. It was not long until she was discovered by a terrified Grandma Hart and brought into the warmth of the kitchen, as phone calls were made, and a first aid kit was sought.

As Kayla sat shivering in the suffocating warm kitchen, her mind was filled with images. Of the perfectly broken doll that now lay on the forest floor. Her beautiful blood stained dress. Her limbs, all cleanly cut away from her body in exact proportions. Like a mirror image. Perfect symmetry.