- October 2nd, 2009
It was a dangerous intersection. You and I. Our lives led parallel, yet one of us was unaware. You knew nothing of my existance, nor the task I had been sent to perform, living out what remained of your life in sweet obliviousness. I pity you, unaware that you're soon to meet a short, blissful death. I myself shall see to that. You lie on the bed, your arms crossed across your chest, hiding the array of puncture-wounds that decorate them. Your eyes closed, your breathing comes slower, but I think I'll let you live. Today. Perhapse tomorrow things will change. Or perhapse when the Authority dictates that it's time. I see tears forming in the corners of your eyes, yet I remain unmoved. Indifferent. I shift to the left only slightly, and find myself behind you. I never have quite gotten used to the feeling of weightlessness in this method of travel, and it frustrates me. Your mobile phone on the nightstand rings, but your movements are lethargic as you fumble for it, and it crashes to the floor in pieces. Your veins are full now, of the heroin you have injected into them, and your wrists pale. They scream, pleading for you to cease your abuse but you are merciless, and after you have finally saturated your cravings, they refuse to opperate((sp?)) correctly. I turn my back upon you, giving you the grace of sleep as I perch upon your sill and shut my eyes as I anticipate dawn.
You wake, after a long bout with insomnia throughout the night, your bedsheets tangled around you legs, and your eyes bleary. You look incredibly pathetic in your oversized pajamas that hang off of your frail skeleton. I could take you now. Whisk you away to that other world far below. Watch you writhe in agony as those same tormented wrists sepparate themselves from you; as all your limbs are eventually torn away and nothing is left. No soul of which to speak of. No proof alive or dead that you had existed upon this earth at some point. No trace. Another wasted life; the people that knew of your existance, of course will experience the sensation of sorrow, but you will soon blur into the past, and no one will be able to recall your name.
It pains me to dwell on the fact that I myself may have led a similar nothing-life, considering the position I now find myself in. I may have been created from scratch, or possibly been human at some point. I was, most likely not the most wholesome individual, if in fact I may have once been a man. My thoughts desert me as you make your entrance, your face flustered and eyes brimming over with tears. You hug your knees to your chest in an awkward position near the wall, but this is nothing new to me. Often before death, humans tend to behave in odd ways. I still do not pity you, even though you are gripping one of your old needles, trying to refill it with your detestable drug. As you are holding it, the needle's tip enters your hand, leaving behind a long gash within your flesh. I avert my sight from this scene, planning on how to bring about your demise. You seem hardly a worthy challenger, as most are in this game we are to play. A survival game. You against me. In my favor. Some of my kind have grown attached to pitiful creatures such as yourself, and that is how survivors are born. A child being the sole survivor of a tragic car crash. A report on the news of a teenager coming close to suicide, but not having life ripped form their grasp just then. And what happens to my kind, I shudder to think about it. We have little, if nothing at all to fear, and that is the Consequences. We will shatter into millions of pieces; our bodies, our souls. And disappear forever. What happens after no one truly knows; maybe there is an Elsewhere. perhapse nothing at all happens. We fear it just the same. But enough of that; time to decide upon your fate, little girl. Keep in mind, however that this was not my doing but yours, my dear. You don't see me. Therefore hatred for me should be impossible. Yet you feel it regardless, don't you. I plague your dreams, occupy the space behind your eyes until you obsess over me. Want to dance, little girl? I bring death. Want to dance with death? Look down at the knawed off stumps dripping sweet, crimson tears. You lack the propper appendages. Too bad. Game over. Set, match. It ends tomorrow. Sleep.
I follow you to your school, where I refrain from filling the air with my pealing laughter. Trying to hide inside yourself? Shatter that reserve of yours, I demand it. When you eventually are dead, it will be only your facade that is missed, not the person lurking in the shadows of your existance. Spotted an interesting interaction. Another dangerous intersection. I hear those whispered words that make you detest him so. Yet you would never admit that, would you.
We arrive back home, and I await what you yet not know is coming. He bursts through the door, angry and drunken and makes a grab for you, interlocking your mouth with his. "Try some, baby." he croons, his tongue dripping acid lies. He brings more heroin and an assortment of other drugs. Drugs that have created the need for more entities such as myself. You could both be two more on the death-toll. But it is not his time, it is yours. "I quit that stuff, I already told you." you sound incredible desperate, and attempt to bolt for the door, but he presses his massive frame between you and the doorway, preventing you from taking flight. What a shame. Maybe my plan would have failed. Maybe you would have won. His voice retains his softness, but the words come angry. He makes a grab for your shirt, bunching it in a handful whilst throwing you down upon that bed. It seems fitting that it would eventually become your final coffin. That bed that you commited suicide upon long ago. With your drug-abuse. "Please.... don't do this to me!" you panic, but he is already sliding your shirt up, and sits atop you, restricting your movement. Not enough blood leaks to your lower torso to allow you to kick him. What a shame. Evil, am I? For readying the madness that resided within him? This had always been a fantasy of his, and I did no harm in reducing the time gap.
His face changes color as he falls, his neck twisted and broken. He hangs like a mannequin, then plummets to the earth with a vital piece missing. You breathe in relief. I deal with a bout of new sensations. I acted on impulse and have gotten myself killed. Hope you enjoy that life of yours. The one you do not deserve. My body crackles, coming off in pieces. It feels downright horrible, yet the worst I dwell on before I leave. You will never know any of this. That I existed. I gave you life. I did not wish to take it. It was the Authorities. You will not know what unseen force saved you that day, or hear my voice. I call out to you before my throat rips away, but you do not move. My tear falls to the earth as my eye, too fades, but it does not fall upon your mortal ground. I will never touch you. Goodbye, my brain says as it, too destructs. You will never know.
-***Note, this is a short story I wrote out of boredom. I don't think I did too well with the resolution, but critique would be appreciated******