Post by victoria on Jan 9, 2010 0:43:40 GMT -5
The world smells of ashes...
Deep breath. Long exhale. It felt like electricity on soft skin.
"Mana..." her voice spoke out. The cracked mirror was stained on the edges, stains from a fire. She could barely see her face on the glass. Black strands of hair everywhere in a mess. It had been weeks since she's been in here, in this hole. Her tank top was slightly torn at the edges, her jeans were covered in soot and dust, her once black sneakers were now gray with dust. She had been here forever and a day. It was cold, but she could barely acknowledge it.
Fifteen days, two hours, five minutes, sixteen seconds...
Mana's bunker of a 'home' was less than hospitable. She was used to this. She wouldn't know what to do in a house... she had been living in ruins for most of her life. Most of her real life at least.
The memory of her old home came into view, like a grainy worn old film, her mother burning to death, her emotions were... lacking. Why didn't she feel anything when this happened?
I almost feel guilty... for not feeling anything...
The air was thick with cigarette smoke inside the bunker. The cigarette in her mouth just hung on her bottom lip, it's ash trail way past the point of flicking. She just stared at that excuse of a mirror in front of her. It felt like it had been hours since she last moved.
Breathe... she had to remind herself.
Mana stood up in a manner that resembled a marionette. She absently reached out, grabbing a large combat knife resting on a crate nearby. She turned, shuffling her feet to the exit of the room, reaching out and grabbing a plain white mask from the top of a table, fastening it over her face. The exit procedure came automatically, as it usually did... the activation of the mines, the skipping over the booby traps, the climb up the ladder, the unlocking and re-locking of the trap door, and the semi-burying of said trap door. She made her way out of the maze of rubble, and eventually made it to a desolate street. There was only one thought in her mind... only one desire... and she aimed to feed this need.
The walk was a blur in Mana's mind. She was in a strange state of mind, and right now she wasn't asking questions. She somehow found herself inside a small home. There was a man, he was saying something, but all Mana could see was the blur of his face playing in slow motion on front of her eyes, and all she could hear was a distant muffled mess someone might consider a language. She looked lazily at him, unable to focus. He was starting to annoy her. His hands moved quickly as he made the strange noises. Mana couldn't quite understand why he was so angry, and his inability to communicate with her was seriously aggravating her. Mana walked up to the man, sinking the length of the blade into his stomach. His muffled noises stopped as Mana's hand felt warm and wet. She smiled. She felt the man's weight lean against her, his hands weakly grabbing onto her bare shoulders.
"Linger a bit longer... please..." she whispered lovingly in his ear.
But Mana's peace was soon disrupted by a shrieking noise coming from behind her. With one jerk of the blade she felt the man's life ebb away as the edge sliced through the heart. Mana pulled the knife out, turning to the source of the shriek. A female, about her height. Mana tilted her head. The woman spoke in a muffled distant language too. Mana tried to focus her eyes on her, but she couldn't quite make out the figures on front of her. She could feel the fear in her though, almost like an animal senses prey... this woman, she was prey. Mana felt an almost primal need to hurt her. It was at that moment that Mana realized, with what little lucidity she had left at the moment, that perhaps she had finally lost it.
Am I insane?... she wondered, but felt no sudden need to answer the question. She lounged at the woman. Stab, stab, stab, stab... it just came out with so much rage. Mana couldn't understand what was driving her to do this, but she felt she just... had to. Crimson decorated most surfaces in her vicinity, and the stabbing kept coming, although the piercing noises had stopped. Mana was just so angry at the woman. So pathetic. Fear was the sign of weakness. Weak woman... stab stab.
Finally satisfied Mana stopped, staring down at the mess she had made. Mana tilted her head, thinking she saw a pattern in the crimson. Was that a painting? It almost looked like a landscape all in red. So beautiful. So peaceful...
Mana licked the blade clean. Crimson still tastes like fear. It tastes so divine. It felt too good for the lips of a monster like herself.
She stood, walking to a nearby stove, tearing the gas hose on the back of the stove with one sudden jerk. Hissing... and that familiar smell. Mana took a second to look at what she had done, and instead of something horrible, she saw something beautiful. A visceral notion of satisfaction filled her. But she was still hungry... hungry for so much more.
Mana shuffled out of the room, much like an undead minion of hell. She pulled out a match box and lit it, staring at the flame for a few seconds, lifting her mask to light a cigarette with the flame. She then tossed the matchbook through the window she had escaped the home. The blast came forth, a few shards of glass rushing past her, leaving small cuts on her soft blood-stained skin. She took a few more seconds to enjoy that sting... it was so precious to her.
Her walk back home was another blur. She mostly remember people looking at her. Terrified at first... before they went kind of crazy. Was her Geass active this whole time? Maybe that's why everything was so blurry... as though the world had become someone's finger painting masterpiece of mediocrity. She took a few seconds to appreciate the sight of a man repetitively stabbing another man and eating part of his face. A giggle escaped her. So primal... so animal. But humans were not animals. Humans were abominations. Monsters... like her.
Mana eventually made it back to her home. She dropped the knife on the dusty floor of the bunker, returning to the broken ruin of a mirror, smiling at the pretty woman in the glass. So much crimson. So warm... so full of joy.
Let it linger... just a bit longer...
[end]
Deep breath. Long exhale. It felt like electricity on soft skin.
"Mana..." her voice spoke out. The cracked mirror was stained on the edges, stains from a fire. She could barely see her face on the glass. Black strands of hair everywhere in a mess. It had been weeks since she's been in here, in this hole. Her tank top was slightly torn at the edges, her jeans were covered in soot and dust, her once black sneakers were now gray with dust. She had been here forever and a day. It was cold, but she could barely acknowledge it.
Fifteen days, two hours, five minutes, sixteen seconds...
Mana's bunker of a 'home' was less than hospitable. She was used to this. She wouldn't know what to do in a house... she had been living in ruins for most of her life. Most of her real life at least.
The memory of her old home came into view, like a grainy worn old film, her mother burning to death, her emotions were... lacking. Why didn't she feel anything when this happened?
I almost feel guilty... for not feeling anything...
The air was thick with cigarette smoke inside the bunker. The cigarette in her mouth just hung on her bottom lip, it's ash trail way past the point of flicking. She just stared at that excuse of a mirror in front of her. It felt like it had been hours since she last moved.
Breathe... she had to remind herself.
Mana stood up in a manner that resembled a marionette. She absently reached out, grabbing a large combat knife resting on a crate nearby. She turned, shuffling her feet to the exit of the room, reaching out and grabbing a plain white mask from the top of a table, fastening it over her face. The exit procedure came automatically, as it usually did... the activation of the mines, the skipping over the booby traps, the climb up the ladder, the unlocking and re-locking of the trap door, and the semi-burying of said trap door. She made her way out of the maze of rubble, and eventually made it to a desolate street. There was only one thought in her mind... only one desire... and she aimed to feed this need.
The walk was a blur in Mana's mind. She was in a strange state of mind, and right now she wasn't asking questions. She somehow found herself inside a small home. There was a man, he was saying something, but all Mana could see was the blur of his face playing in slow motion on front of her eyes, and all she could hear was a distant muffled mess someone might consider a language. She looked lazily at him, unable to focus. He was starting to annoy her. His hands moved quickly as he made the strange noises. Mana couldn't quite understand why he was so angry, and his inability to communicate with her was seriously aggravating her. Mana walked up to the man, sinking the length of the blade into his stomach. His muffled noises stopped as Mana's hand felt warm and wet. She smiled. She felt the man's weight lean against her, his hands weakly grabbing onto her bare shoulders.
"Linger a bit longer... please..." she whispered lovingly in his ear.
But Mana's peace was soon disrupted by a shrieking noise coming from behind her. With one jerk of the blade she felt the man's life ebb away as the edge sliced through the heart. Mana pulled the knife out, turning to the source of the shriek. A female, about her height. Mana tilted her head. The woman spoke in a muffled distant language too. Mana tried to focus her eyes on her, but she couldn't quite make out the figures on front of her. She could feel the fear in her though, almost like an animal senses prey... this woman, she was prey. Mana felt an almost primal need to hurt her. It was at that moment that Mana realized, with what little lucidity she had left at the moment, that perhaps she had finally lost it.
Am I insane?... she wondered, but felt no sudden need to answer the question. She lounged at the woman. Stab, stab, stab, stab... it just came out with so much rage. Mana couldn't understand what was driving her to do this, but she felt she just... had to. Crimson decorated most surfaces in her vicinity, and the stabbing kept coming, although the piercing noises had stopped. Mana was just so angry at the woman. So pathetic. Fear was the sign of weakness. Weak woman... stab stab.
Finally satisfied Mana stopped, staring down at the mess she had made. Mana tilted her head, thinking she saw a pattern in the crimson. Was that a painting? It almost looked like a landscape all in red. So beautiful. So peaceful...
Mana licked the blade clean. Crimson still tastes like fear. It tastes so divine. It felt too good for the lips of a monster like herself.
She stood, walking to a nearby stove, tearing the gas hose on the back of the stove with one sudden jerk. Hissing... and that familiar smell. Mana took a second to look at what she had done, and instead of something horrible, she saw something beautiful. A visceral notion of satisfaction filled her. But she was still hungry... hungry for so much more.
Mana shuffled out of the room, much like an undead minion of hell. She pulled out a match box and lit it, staring at the flame for a few seconds, lifting her mask to light a cigarette with the flame. She then tossed the matchbook through the window she had escaped the home. The blast came forth, a few shards of glass rushing past her, leaving small cuts on her soft blood-stained skin. She took a few more seconds to enjoy that sting... it was so precious to her.
Her walk back home was another blur. She mostly remember people looking at her. Terrified at first... before they went kind of crazy. Was her Geass active this whole time? Maybe that's why everything was so blurry... as though the world had become someone's finger painting masterpiece of mediocrity. She took a few seconds to appreciate the sight of a man repetitively stabbing another man and eating part of his face. A giggle escaped her. So primal... so animal. But humans were not animals. Humans were abominations. Monsters... like her.
Mana eventually made it back to her home. She dropped the knife on the dusty floor of the bunker, returning to the broken ruin of a mirror, smiling at the pretty woman in the glass. So much crimson. So warm... so full of joy.
Let it linger... just a bit longer...
[end]
