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Acid Steel
( WARNING: This is pure fiction, scraped from the leftovers of my
psyche. )
Written by
Jessica Gasparini
witchylass@hotmail.com
www.perceptions.blogspot.com
| The soft clink of
steel against my teeth sounds natural amidst the back drop of raucous teens
in various stages of rebellious rantings. Ski caps and wallet chains, and
mohawks in abundance. I sit quiet, alone, dressed almost somberly in
untucked button down shirt and jeans; I'm watching. Occasionally someone
will come up to me, someone I know, to see how I am- mingle- before moving
on to more enjoyable company. I'm not very good company tonight, would
rather watch than talk, feeling the ebb and flow of anger laced angst. I
never did quite fit in here, though it was fun to pretend. But tonight is
different somehow, things are vaguely distorted. I feel eyes on me even as
I'm eyeing everyone else. And then I catch a glimpse of her at the corner of
my vision, little snatches as people walk past. She's leaning against the
wall on the far side of the room, a wallflower against a mural of clouds. I think at first she's not real She looks exactly as I'd always imagined someone like her might look. I think maybe the acid I took earlier is starting to kick in. She's tall but not lanky, tone and lithe- inhuman is the word that slips into my mind. Thinking her a figment of my hallucinogenically enhanced mind I don't bother to not stare. The crowd things and I have an unobstructed view of her; I'm drinking her in with my eyes. She's pale, but so are most of the people here, under this lighting, would be Goths and creatures of the night, or simply malnourished. A heart shaped face, full lips, she reminds me of the actress Angelina Jolie. Her hair is dark and short, but in this light its hard to determine what color. High cheekbones, small ears; I'm avoiding looking at her eyes. Finally, I bring mine to hers, impossibly deep, impossibly green, impossibly alive. Inhuman. There it is again, a warning? The floor drops out from under me and suddenly I'm falling, drowning in her eyes. I never knew what they meant by that until now. I can't be here. I must be starting to peak to feel this intensely, to dream up someone so real, so Alive. But I can't take my eyes from hers, can't stop this free fall, can't breathe even- and like that someone walks past, and I jerk my eyes away, the connection broken. I stand, grabbing up my notebook and cigarettes. Keeping my head down I slip out the back door and into the cool autumnal evening air. Already I feel better. More grounded, though I can feel the acid coursing through me and I shake off my hallucination, a bad trip avoided. I hear again the clink of the tongue bar against my teeth as I walk away, down the street, letting the LSD skewed world tilt and tumble around me, getting lost in mundane sights and sounds turned hazy, abstract. I've gone from Teen angst to being part of a Salvador Dali painting. I'm strolling down the sidewalk, notebook in one hand, lit cigarette in the other. I've always had a talent for acting perfectly sober in public, no matter my mental state. No one pays me any mind. There's an accident up ahead, squad cars everywhere, their flashing blue and reds drawing me like a moth to a flame. I look like all the other rubberneckers milling about, but its those lights I'm looking at. The colours are swirling and blending, exploding into prisms of trippy enlightenment. But I've gawked long enough, my interest is waning and I move on with a sigh. Nothing really holds my interest anymore. Such a wasted, jaded life is mine. She's following me. Its not possible. You can't be stalked by a figment of your own imagination. Never the less she's there. Maybe half a block behind me. I can't think straight. I'm still seeing trailers, flashes, visuals all over the place. She's amused by this. Enjoying my discomfort, my confusion, my... arousal. I AM aroused, I can feel it now, my nipples hard, warmth between my legs as I speed up, trying to put some space between us. I close my eyes to focus internally. I could walk these streets blind I know them so well. I think I want her to catch me. I'm sure I can hear her chuckle from behind me. The chase is on. I walk even faster, turning corners, feeling the hunter, reveling in being the prey. How did I get here? Oh yes, the acid. Of course. I've never been hunted by my trip before. Interesting take on things. I'm almost running now, buildings and people and colours streaking past. I can feel the wetness between my legs now, nipples so hard, aching; they could cut glass. How is this possible? Don't think, just look for- yes, there. turn down that alley. I stop, catching my breath, one hand on the wall for support. In a heartbeat she's there before me. Sweet Jesus I'm caught. Trapped. Right where I want to be. I am so thoroughly enjoying this, even if it isn't real and I'm chasing shadows. Her hands are on my shoulders; I hear the notebook slip from my fingers, fall to the damp ground with a thud. I catch a flash of white teeth, a triumphant smile, and then her lips are on mine and they're ice cold. I think I groaned, tried to exert power over my own hallucination- yank her roughly against me. She pins my arms above my head and laughs and open my eyes, knowing, realizing, seeing. She's completely real, always was. And she was always in control of this... encounter. Fear mixes with desire and my knees feel weak, but I'm paralyzed. I've never wanted anything more. She kisses me again, roughly this time, her tongue pushing past the barrier of my clenched teeth, twining with my steel studded tongue, so eager. There's danger here. I can feel it throbbing through me and it spurs me on and on; how I've been searching for this. She releases my arms and immediately I cup her breasts, firm, ripe, tracing the outline of her nipple rings through her shirt. She's got one hand in my crotch, torturing me through my jeans as our tongues war. I want to feel her, taste her, penetrate her with my tongue and fingers- see her writhe beneath me, begging for release. With an effort I pull away from her damnable tongue and drop to my knees, pushing her legs farther apart as I flip up her plaid skirt. Now I can smell her wetness, slick bliss. My hands travel up her legs, fingers peeling apart her labia and I thrust my tongue into her tight, wet hole, then dart quickly up, flicking over her clit, all swollen and pink. I hear her moan and now there's a heartbeat pounding in my head but I can't tell whose it is. I've never tasted anyone like her, so sweet, with a tang- but she's pulling me up, away from her sex and I whimper, a child whose toy's ben taken away. She's staring at me, drowning in those eyes again, so green, like a meadow I saw as a child...and we were running through it, laughing and kissing... The same wall where I first saw her. Some of the same people milling about. The same quasi punk rock music overhead. Only this time no one talks to me. No one wants to. I don't mind. I smile to myself, remembering- her lips on my neck, the sharp sting of her fangs, and then- ecstasy. My lips on her wrist, the font opened for me to drink of, fountain of youth, and death. The blood flowing hot and thick and coppery, ambrosia of the Lost Gods, the Dark Ones. Better than any acid trip. Forevermore. She was real. I remember how warm her lips were when she kissed me afterward, how cool mine had become. She was gone when I awoke that night. She was gone and I was a vampire and we'd never even spoken a word. Now I'm the one against the wall, letting the hunger build, looking for dinner amidst all the heated teen age rebellion. Perfect hunting ground. I'm melancholy suddenly. Never again do I get the option of joining in. Forever on the edge, watching, observing. What the hell though, I wanted this, and the sex is great, but the blood... the blood is always better. Another smile- dinner just walked past in a black leather trench and pony tailed blond hair. Pushing off the wall I follow dinner, and the soft clink of steel against my fangs sounds natural amidst the roar of pulsing, throbbing hearts, flowing blood, all around me.
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