Scarleton Series I : Before the Cult (10 page)

“Yeah,” I
managed.

“You see I am
not insane. You feel it too. Intuition is perhaps a closer word. We
are sharing some kind of field me and you.” She said. Then later
added,“I don’t go around inviting random guys to my place, Sandz. I
had a feeling about you. I knew your essence somehow. I see a fish
wriggling on dry ground. I’m here to help. You can trust me.”

I was utterly
stunned, yet quite elated. A rush.

They say some
things come as easy as breathing – some things are as hard as
taking a hard crap when constipated. I was neither of those things.
Sometimes we refrain from telling people certain things because
they know nothing, sometimes it is because they know too much and
they are too abrupt. This situation is none of those things. It is
too perfect. Too enthralling . Not even in the rarest possibility.
Perhaps a tremendous a scam.

I needed my
henchmen with me. Scrolled through my contacts and found
Macfearson. Sent a short coded message :
Do rotto abba !

I was becoming
that which I should not become, I was becoming the
thing
.
Seized by pure impulse and quick manic understanding.

I have
questions you have answers. This is not even a trade, my love. You
owe me ! I think I know what you are.

“If I am a
wriggling fish who is wielding the net?” I asked grimly.

Foolishly and
coyly she answered , “ Tell me what is this net you caught in so I
can help you find out. I want to help.”

She dryly
chuckled and flicked her hair, a blazing smile slicing through my
eyes.

You beautiful
monster.

I played along
with the overtones.

I will give you
what you want my love but don’t think you are fooling me. I may be
a fish but I sting. I sting so badly Krissy that you have no idea
what I am gonna do to you.

I smiled,
sweetened by my own sacred thoughts. “I will tell you,” I chuckled,
unable to impede the brewing
thing
inside me.

God help me ,
this is the last thing you will ever hear, okay dear?

“I have this
thing holding me down,”
The calling you see. Not anything you
would understand .
“I don’t know what it is. It is not really a
thing with me you see,” I sighed, took a swig of water. “I talk no
one hears me. I am there nobody sees me. I just exist, passing by
through the textures of this frail existence. I am alive yet I feel
dead. I just am. I am among people yet I feel extremely lonely.
Everything is just ash, everything is just stale and
tasteless.”

This world of
yours is just ruined, an excuse for a world. When God created this
one he was probably doped out of his mind or he hated you people so
much he did not care one bit what kinda world he was building for
you. You may marvel at how intricate and beautiful it seems but
this is child’s play compared to what he is really capable of. You
are God’s practice project, something left to gather dust along
with old records and relics. Clearly he wasn’t trying. Of course
you would say I’m mad, crazy for thinking such things. Call me
names . Call me a freak or weird. Not to my face but at least
behind my back where I can’t hear you. I hardly care. Truth is you
are made so badly that the very crap your reality is composed of
you can’t smell. You call it adaptation I call it deception.

And you will
not believe me, your slaves of science and reason.

I paused to
take another swig, concealing my expression behind the mug.

“I just know
that I don’t belong here,”
This place is shit. Your universe is
shit
,“I am just a burden, to myself and others. There is no
love for me. I am unlovable. No peace ,no hope. There is a constant
ache within me. Agony I can’t explain. I feel like sighing,
grunting, screaming and slashing my throat. I wanna rip my heart
out and squash it. I am angry because it’s beating, keeping me
alive therefore sustaining this torment that has befallen me. I am
on a constant search for salvation yet I never find it. I neither
wanna die or live. I am just asking not to exist in any sense if
this is what life is,” I lifted my head and gazed at the smudgy
image of her rendered by my tears.

I know what
you gonna say, don’t say it,
I shot my thoughts at her.

“Wow.” She
shook her head.

“You don’t know
what to say?” I told her that, expecting her to be.

A smile
flickered from the corner of her mouth. “Sort of – I mean
yeah.”

“I believe that
in situations like these people often know what they think but they
are struggling with appropriate things to say. It is not about
saying something that sounds right it is about telling me what is
going on through your head. More like what you are thinking. I am
not a huge fan of being courteous.”
It makes my life easier,
quite frankly I don’t have time for pretend. I need to know when or
if I should sample you or whatever the fuck is that thing
Macfearson hinted at, ‘the right sample’ .
“ In fact I hate it.
True experiences come from genuine encounters. For that reason I
have learned not be easily offended .”
Will
not to show
that I am pissed off, that is until I am stabbing through your
heart
. “Feel free,” I told her.

She displayed
an incredulous glance.

“Don’t think.
Think aloud for once.” I was far from a saint. Who was I to judge
anyway?

“It is true
what you say.” She grinned lifting her shoulders bashfully, pressed
her breasts together in the process, an archaic trick of seduction.
Nonetheless working. Chest arched forward, my love, was
appetizing.

***

Macxermillio
and Macfearson sat in front the big flat screen at their house. The
room dark except for the light emitting from the television screen.
They slumped on the couch watching a Marilyn Manson Concert from
their plugged in external hard drive. The television was connected
to a home theater system via auxiliaries. The sound was coming off
just fine, not too loud.

Macfearson’s
phone beeped. He read the message :
Do rotto abba !

“Hey, Macx,
have considered that right sample theory of mine?”

Maxcermillio
glanced at him. “Why do you ask?”

The leather
couch creaked as Macfearson turned to face him. “Would you explain
to me why? The calling requires a
deathling
, changing the
state of mind of people is not turning them into
deathlings
.
I think there is flaw there.”

“If that is
true then what?” Macxermillio said. “All I know is that we can’t
rush anything now. Let’s see what comes out of these therapy
sessions first, alright?”

Macfearson
chuckled. “Sandy, sent me a message. He is craving.”

Macxermillio
gazed at him, his countenance dubious. “Pure shit,” his tone
lightly fazed. “Tell him we are sticking to the plan.”

Macfearson
shifted his gaze to the screen, a pang of some unknown emotion
surging in his chest. “What do we do? He is with the person. This
is coded message S.O.S!”

Macxermillio
was eerily unresponsive and cold. Underneath his skin he was
afflicted. His lack of expression was there once more. Seconds
where burning through the moment as thoughts twirled and tittered.
“Tell him if he tries anything he should kiss himself goodbye,” he
spoke with a low grunt.

“Are you
sure?”

“Yes, he will
have to believe. He won’t cause shit,” He paused.

Macfearson
typed away, then he looked up before pressing send. “He better not
fuck this up! Why are you so sure he will listen?”

Macxermillio
smiled. “Because he listens to me.”

***

“You don’t find
me weird, Krissy?” I asked as the seduction continued, unbelieving
that something of that awesomeness was occurring to me. A
stupefying experience. Some would pinch themselves to test if it
were real, I would slit my wrists.

She giggled.
“No. You are just unique in your own way.”

She tilted her
head and pushed her hair back to expose her neck.

You don’t
know who you are about to fuck
.

If I were like
other men a storm would have stirred between by legs. My heart
would have raced and I would not have been able to contain myself.
The amount of saliva in my mouth would have surely increased and my
breathing a bit heavier. Shuddering with extinguishing and
delicious lust. I knew the tease was to be the best part, it always
was the best part. Sustained arousal is much like suppressed anger
that one cannot wait to release and ravage the object of its
obsession. All men are beasts at heart and the women tame these
beasts.

“Krissy, I have
tried so many things to be happy… to find peace or whatever it is
that is missing in my life. Everything.” I paused. Then gazed at
her throat. “You are much like a piece of art, mei lady.
Distraction from all this horror.”

Silence.

“Would it
surprise you if I told you that I never really made any friends in
my life?”

“Including your
childhood?”

“I never really
liked people when I was young. Did not know how to talk to them or
understand them really. I enjoyed my own company the most. I played
alone and did all things alone. It is tough being here with you and
talking to you or opening up to you the way I have. Always been
aloof.”

“Maybe that is
why you feel so lonely and miserable.”

“I thought so
myself. So I went out and tried making friends. I socialized, as
people put it. I faced constant rejection and ostracism. Truth is,
I felt more miserable with people than I did alone. This is a
cliché isn’t it?”

“What?”

“My story.
Lonely boy meets an angel who attends to his needs and accepts him
when the world has been nothing but terrible and uneventful for
him. Sounds like something you would watch in a movie.”

“And you don’t
like this. Is it too pretentious for you?”

“Much of the
world is. I would hate my life to resemble something I strongly
despise.” I smiled.

She looked down
and withdrew, her posture serene and decent. I could sense
disappointment on her side. Although I may never truly know what
was causing it, I had always known that I had an adverse impact on
others. Never understood what I did wrong or what was wrong with
me. For this reason I dreaded human conversation, I had therefore
told myself the only way it could work is if I am fully honest at
each turn. Clarity made things fall neatly into place, but not in
this world. I had to learn, not nicely, the world does not work
that way so I was confronted by an even more stranger reaction from
my peers as a result of my frankness. I hated the anxiety that came
with my history of my poor social interactions and the way, despite
my efforts, I was clueless and, without fail, screwed things up.
With Krissy, I cared less, I felt unrestrained

“All I am
trying to say is that I have never met anyone as gracious as you or
who makes me feel the things I feel here. You are very desirable
and I would love to fuck you.” I paused to study her. She lifted
her head to confront me, her cheeks flushing. Her eyes fraught with
shock. “I don’t give a damn if that offends you. It shouldn’t. It’s
a compliment and a clear indication of my intentions… which you
have guided.”

She gasped.
“What?”

“Please, have
sex with me? Maybe that will help,” I coldly demanded.

She scrutinized
me, still dismayed. “Wow,” she could only manage to say.

“Say
something.”

“Is this how
you speak to girls?”

“This is how I
talk to everybody,” I blandly said, not getting even the point of
asking that question.

Is there a
customary way of addressing girls and boys?

“Very blunt. It
actually works for me. I like that,” she grinned. Then added with
enthusiasm, “Turns me on for some reason.”

I mirrored the
excitement.

Phew…

“You have
wine?” I enquired.

“Yeah. Turnin’
things up, huh?” she lightly cackled, a free spirit resounding.

“Read foreplay
is the most important part.” I stupidly answered, as an
afterthought I realized I didn’t have to.

She got up and
fetched two mugs and placed them on the desk. Students never really
owned wine glasses. She fetched a box of cheap wine and filled the
mugs to the rim. All of a sudden there was wind in her movements.
She hummed gracefully, in way that evokes peace and comfort. Fun
wore her.

She opened her
laptop. “Music?”

“Yeah. What do
you listen to?”

“Are you music
sensitive? One of those guys?”

“I like metal
and hard rock. They basically the same but you know what I
mean.”

She nodded with
a mixture of approval and surprise. “O-kay. How ’bout some Linkin
Park?”

“The old school
shit only, not this recent crap.”

She laughed and
shrugged. “It’s not that bad.”

“I would rather
not discuss this. Do you have Hurt?”

“What?”

“Hurt, it’s a
band. Not Hurts I mean
Hurt
. You know of ‘em?”

“Never heard of
them.”

I felt
disappointed, I needed their music for the moment. Any song by Hurt
would have done.

My phone beeped
and it was Macfearson, telling what I had concluded soon after I
sent my message:
If you do it, kiss your ass goodbye -
Macxermillio

Something began
brewing. Something malevolent. Something cunning.

And suddenly
something rendered me anxious.

Don’t you
ever leave me you fucking
lifeling
bitch!

Suddenly there
was an unpredictable presence about her. It was too perfect. Unreal
as a flawless play.

I am being
dined before I get fucked.