The Life and Times of Taretha Rake - A History in Songfics

Discipline · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Discipline** on Sun Sep 05, 2010 2:43 pm

From the backstory of Taretha Rake. This occurs before "Playing a Game of 'Go'". The song used as inspiration is Monster, a song from the album The Fame Monster by Lady Gaga.

That's right. Call me a monster. I'm a bad, bad girl. I need to be punished. I'm vile, an abomination towards God. I'm a witch, a soul-stealer, a vampire, a mystic.

The funniest thing is, some of you think you're being nice when you call me these things. You say that I'm anything, anything from the list above, and then add that I probably wasn't raised well as a child. I didn't have a caring home. It's the parents' fault.

No. Stop the idiocy.

And before you say anything else... don't call me that. I'm not your little Tarry anymore. I'm Taretha. I'm not one of your little puppets. But I'm not a wolf in disguise either.
I don't want to kill you. I don't want to harm you. You call me a hateful, spiteful being. But I'm human like you.
Why can't you understand? I'm not a threat. I won't teach your children to practise witchcraft and kill people and mark "666" on them. If you really wanted to know me, you'd learn I'm not what you say I am. I'm not a sinner. I'm not a heretic.
Why don't you get it? Is it the plain truth of the fact?

Until you realise I'm not who you think I am, with demonic eyes and heretical teachings, then go. Eat your heart out and keep saying I'll try to eat yours. And while you're at it, eat your brains too. They're clearly not doing you any good inside those thick skulls of yours.

And this warning's for you, congregation. Don't trust the pastor blindly.

That boy is a monster.

Discipline · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Discipline** on Mon Sep 06, 2010 7:18 pm

Writer's Note: This is a bit of backstory on one of my characters, Taretha Rake. The song (or rather, orchestral composition) I'm drawing inspiration from is James Horner's soundtrack from the movie "A Beautiful Mind", particularly this specific section, the second movement after which this songfic is named after. If you want to listen to it, here it is -- A Beautiful Mind (Playing a Game of 'Go')

No, she wouldn't.
Yes, she would.
No, she wouldn't.
Yes, she would.

Stop it. The both of you. You know we're not allowed to talk about her.

Why? That's stupid.
You're stupid.

I said, stop it! Leave him alone. And it's not stupid, it's common sense? What if her demons come around and overhear you? She might come back...

So? We can fight her off. She's a cold witch --
No, she's a cold bi --

Enough! Darren, Nicholas, go inside. Missy will deal with you two in the kitchens.

But...

No buts. Inside.

Fine. Meanie.
Why is she so mean? What've we done?

I can't believe it... after all these years. Somehow I can't.
And she was always such a good girl. Why would she decide to expunge herself from...?

Rake. Oh, Rakey girl. Taretha Rake. Why would you? Now you're a heretic. Is this what you wanted?

No. I never wanted this. I never needed this. Don't ask me why I'm like this, because I can't answer you.

You're only saying that because now, it's turned you into a power-hungry monster. How can you look at yourself in the mirror every day, knowing that you're like this?

Stop it! Just stop! I've had enough of you telling me that. I've never wanted to be alone. To be banished because of this curse.

You've never repented.

Why would I repent for something that's not my fault?

Just do it. Or God will hate you for all eternity. And think of Marissa. Your so-called best friend that abandoned you when she learned who you were. Don't you want her back? Don't you want it all back?

Repenting won't change a thing, anyway. It'll just be me groveling on the floor, weeping over things I have no control over, and someone telling me that He's Pleased With Me.

Avoiding the question, I see. Very smooth, Taretha. The devil's taught you well.

I said, stop it!

Fine, fine. Burn in Gehenna for all eternity. See if I care. But just remember, I've told you once. I've told you twice. And you've never listened.

I won't dignify that lie with an answer. If I could change this side of me, I would in a heartbeat. Take my powers. Take my immortality. I don't care. Just give me back my family.

And yet you answered me. Such emotion, girl! Such basal passions! This is why you couldn't be anything better than this, a retarded, self-hating heretic witch. I finally understand why you're so stupid. It was a hard thing to comprehend, your idiocy, and I'm not used to such incompetence. But I get it now.

I'm going mad. I truly am.

Even my conscience is telling me I am. My lenient, vice-filled conscience.
Why? Why now? Why so late?

I'm so happy, I could just die. Now I know I've been dancing in the dark without a light this entire time.
And I loved it.

I hated forgetting things when I was younger. But now I know that amnesia is the greatest gift of all. I wish someone would give me that gift. In this moment, this guilt I can't stand.

Would anyone be so kind as to punch my lights out?

Cer · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Cer** on Wed Sep 08, 2010 10:02 pm

I absolutely love this. =) I'm going to go back and listen to the music when my computer cooperates moreso, but I can imagine it in my mind already. I love putting characters to music, and I think you did a splendid job both in capturing her through the music and telling her story. I especially love the fact that it says the pastor is a monster. I can't wait to see more, and I'll add more to this as soon as I re-read with the music. Awesome job.

Discipline · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Discipline** on Thu Sep 30, 2010 3:12 pm

This songfic is text correspondence between two of my characters, Taretha Rake, and Rigel Lake. It was written to the following piece -- Musetta's Waltz, from La Boheme, an opera by Giacomo Puccini. This song is referenced to in the musical Rent (which is loosely based off of La Boheme).

Hey sis,

Where are you?

Hey kid,

You don't need to know.

"Kid"? Um. No, woman.

"Woman"? Oh hell naw.

That's right. I went there.

You stupid ho.

The Redundant Department of Redundancy wants their insult back. ;P

That's not even funny, Rigel. Shut up.

umad?

Clearly I'm not the only one who's wasted too much time on 4chan. So yeah.

This is why we can't have nice things.

OH MY GOD STOP TEXTING ME.

Taretha?

Taretha Rake?

Sis?

Bitch. Answer your freaking cell phone. It took me fifteen minutes to learn how to 'call' on this blasted thing.

If you answer your texts, I will dance like a retard in front of my boyfriend.

Pix or gtfo.

That was unnecessary. Go die in a fire.

So how are those classical ballet lessons going?

Discipline · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Discipline** on Thu Oct 28, 2010 7:34 pm

A little vignette. What's she crying about? What's happened to her? I never state exactly what events've taken place. There's no definite time marker for this.
The work itself's inspired by a song from Lady Gaga's second album, The Fame Monster, entitled Dance in the Dark.

Silicone.

She clenched her jaw, fighting off tears.

Saline.

She knelt to the ground, her hands pressed against her face, somewhat stifling but not entirely cutting off the whimpering noises coming from her body in spurts. Sounds that drowned out the faint pitter-patter of the rain against the concrete.

Inject me, baby, I'm a freak.

The sweet, sweet sounds of the cleansing rain.

I'm a freak.

Bitch.

Slowly, she regained conscious control of her body. Her whimpers suddenly stopped for a moment, and a great shudder racked her form as she let out a loud wail, a wordless, tuneless song.

Finally, she picked herself up off the floor and stood up precariously, looking up into the night sky. Droplets soon wet her face, washing away the smears of blood, sweat, and tears on her face.

Baby loves to dance in the dark, 'cause when he's looking she falls apart.

She looked up into the heavens for a couple seconds more, then looked down, her arms outstretched.
Covering each were scratches, bruises, cuts, and lacerations, up to her sleeves, and down to her fingers.
The runaway stared at her damaged arms uncomprehendingly, wondering how she'd gone to be so riddled with flaws.

And then she remembered.

She's a tramp, she's a vamp, but she still does her dance.

A rush of nausea, a squeal of pain -- and she had gone and thrown up all over the concrete, a slick mess of red and green. Some of the vomitus splattered up into her face, and she flinched at the feeling of dirt on her just-cleaned face.

Tell him how you feel, girls.

When she opened her eyes, she was still there. A dreary, grey city park was where she lived, and a dreary, grey place was where she was now.

Find your freedom in your music, find your Jesus, find your Cupid.

She clenched her fists.
Because no matter who she was, where she was, and what she'd become, everything could change. Nothing would stay the same forever.

Never let you fall apart, together we'll dance in the dark.

And from that day, nothing would ever be the same.

The Life and Times of Taretha Rake - A History in Songfics

a topic in The Writer's Lounge, a part of the RPG forum.

The Life and Times of Taretha Rake - A History in Songfics

"Playing A Game of 'Go'" - Songfic

Re: The Life and Times of Taretha Rake - A History in Songfics

Re: "Musetta's Waltz" - Songfic

"Dance in the Dark" - Songfic

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