If i had a heart i could love you
When no one cares
Death was not something she had pondered about recently. Actually, if she were to reflect on it more thoroughly, she would have come to the conclusion that she hadn’t actually given it a second glance in years… It was as though death was one of those losers that always trailed behind, hopping to be detected, but never actually being acknowledged. But now it seemed as though it had come for revenge.
“Blood has never matched your skin tone.” He had whispered that night in her ear. She thought of the commentary as a joke, that’s what young, naïve girls usually do.. his words caressed her skin. Of course, she would have never suspected his of being anything but human… she was so superficial, all she thought about was the fact that his jaw was the perfect shape, his eyes, the perfect color, and his hair, the perfect style. She never noticed that his skin had the same surface as polished marble, that his eyes had an unnatural glow to them, that his hair shone like diamonds in the sun… all she cared about was the fact that he seemed faultless.
She couldn’t understand why, nobody acknowledged her, now, that she needed them the most, now.. that she was desperate for their attention, why weren’t they helping her? Why were they all looking the other way when she implored for them to save her, for them to scare away the mean old vampire that was chasing her? Frantically clutching unto their shirts, she begged, and begged and begged… but they acted as though she was just another mad hobo, as though she didn’t even exist. With her blue contact stabbing at her right eyes, she cried, and hemorrhaged, unknowingly summoning him even closer, and begged… but nobody ever tried to help her. Not that they could, even if they had tried.
She was just another catch… Just another victim...Just another antelope for this leopard of the night. This leopard that never misplaced his prey. This leopard that played games like these for a living, literally. This leopard whose sole purpose was to drink their lives away. And that is where it all begins…
.. or stops, depending on which end of the line you are situated on.
***
“So, tonight at Kane’s attic, we have a very special guest, a local celebrity, a woman who has accomplished in just over 6 months, what others haven’t managed in years; please welcome our very own, Jasmine Simmons.”
She was perfect. With her imported eyes, USA manufactured breasts and nose, and her French bottled hair, the ingredients being most likely imported from Thailand, she screamed counterfeit. The bride of Frankenstein, made out of spare parts from all around the world, a collage of cultures, bottled into a one 5 feet 9, scrawny blonde.
Just perfect… A hand crafted doll, which seemed so real, you’d most likely mistake her for an actual person… that is, if they hadn’t forgotten to insert a brain into that mess of materials that made up her head.
“So, Jasmine, people have been talking, and it is rumored that you not only are incredibly gorgeous, but have a heart to measure, I have heard that you are currently involved in a humanitarian program…”
“Yes, yes. I adore doing humanitarian work, it helps, younno. Each person involved helps.”
“So what organizations are you part of?”
“Organization?”
“Yes, you know, as in Food for the hungry international, PETA, Red Cross, UNICEF, Save the children fund, USCR.. etc?”
“Oh.. ahm.. I,.. Relieve intranational..”
“Do you mean, Relief international?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s it.. we help the children, that are harmed.. younno by people.”
But the host never bothered to correct her.
They never did. They always treated their blonde pieces of meat as though they were nothing short of deities. Never having the audacity to gainsay them, they were the slaves of those 5 feet 9 perfectly assembled dolls of the modern culture. With their 20 inch waists, and their cola bottle long necks, they were capable of making a grown man shave his ass and act like a light bulb, if that was what they wanted.
Just perfect. He thought. Perfect.
A perfect victim. The perfect shell, yet no real soul to harm.
Because that was what he sought after wasn’t it?
A fatality that would excuse his cravings. Those cravings he despised so much because they took away his humanity.
The perfect victim over and over again.
Day after day, week after week…
That is … until he met her.
“Blood has never matched your skin tone.” He had whispered that night in her ear. She thought of the commentary as a joke, that’s what young, naïve girls usually do.. his words caressed her skin. Of course, she would have never suspected his of being anything but human… she was so superficial, all she thought about was the fact that his jaw was the perfect shape, his eyes, the perfect color, and his hair, the perfect style. She never noticed that his skin had the same surface as polished marble, that his eyes had an unnatural glow to them, that his hair shone like diamonds in the sun… all she cared about was the fact that he seemed faultless.
She couldn’t understand why, nobody acknowledged her, now, that she needed them the most, now.. that she was desperate for their attention, why weren’t they helping her? Why were they all looking the other way when she implored for them to save her, for them to scare away the mean old vampire that was chasing her? Frantically clutching unto their shirts, she begged, and begged and begged… but they acted as though she was just another mad hobo, as though she didn’t even exist. With her blue contact stabbing at her right eyes, she cried, and hemorrhaged, unknowingly summoning him even closer, and begged… but nobody ever tried to help her. Not that they could, even if they had tried.
She was just another catch… Just another victim...Just another antelope for this leopard of the night. This leopard that never misplaced his prey. This leopard that played games like these for a living, literally. This leopard whose sole purpose was to drink their lives away. And that is where it all begins…
.. or stops, depending on which end of the line you are situated on.
***
“So, tonight at Kane’s attic, we have a very special guest, a local celebrity, a woman who has accomplished in just over 6 months, what others haven’t managed in years; please welcome our very own, Jasmine Simmons.”
She was perfect. With her imported eyes, USA manufactured breasts and nose, and her French bottled hair, the ingredients being most likely imported from Thailand, she screamed counterfeit. The bride of Frankenstein, made out of spare parts from all around the world, a collage of cultures, bottled into a one 5 feet 9, scrawny blonde.
Just perfect… A hand crafted doll, which seemed so real, you’d most likely mistake her for an actual person… that is, if they hadn’t forgotten to insert a brain into that mess of materials that made up her head.
“So, Jasmine, people have been talking, and it is rumored that you not only are incredibly gorgeous, but have a heart to measure, I have heard that you are currently involved in a humanitarian program…”
“Yes, yes. I adore doing humanitarian work, it helps, younno. Each person involved helps.”
“So what organizations are you part of?”
“Organization?”
“Yes, you know, as in Food for the hungry international, PETA, Red Cross, UNICEF, Save the children fund, USCR.. etc?”
“Oh.. ahm.. I,.. Relieve intranational..”
“Do you mean, Relief international?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s it.. we help the children, that are harmed.. younno by people.”
But the host never bothered to correct her.
They never did. They always treated their blonde pieces of meat as though they were nothing short of deities. Never having the audacity to gainsay them, they were the slaves of those 5 feet 9 perfectly assembled dolls of the modern culture. With their 20 inch waists, and their cola bottle long necks, they were capable of making a grown man shave his ass and act like a light bulb, if that was what they wanted.
Just perfect. He thought. Perfect.
A perfect victim. The perfect shell, yet no real soul to harm.
Because that was what he sought after wasn’t it?
A fatality that would excuse his cravings. Those cravings he despised so much because they took away his humanity.
The perfect victim over and over again.
Day after day, week after week…
That is … until he met her.
♠ ♠ ♠
Oh well, i tried.Hope you like it, at least a bit.