by M Phoenix

Over the wall, flying past the clapboard houses near the river, the ones with cans rusting in the gardens and the flaking blue paint. Night air burning in your lungs like thousands of tiny icicles.

She bleeds red. Yeah, You are gonna fucking die if you can't run faster you fuckwit.

Pounding through the park you used to play in sometimes, with the broken seesaw and the car-tire swings where you...

'Faith.' She said your name like a punishment. Like she loved you. 'That was inappropriate. You are a child in my care, and as your Watcher I can't...I mustn't...'

The gang of stoner kids just stare blankly, wreathed in smoke, as you hurtle past.

Kakistos caught you napping. Showed you what she looked like on the inside, the part she would never show you. You took his eye for it. He bleeds red too; sticky ooze, crusting on your skin.

Staggering, flailing, sobbing, can't stop, can't stop, past the big stone church of St Jude.

You never prayed anymore, but you slid into a pew at the back, that smelled of old wood and penitence and beeswax polish, and prayed to forget how good her lips felt when you kissed her.

The railings are higher than you thought. You catch and scrape down, ripping your shirt, ripping your skin again. Your blood welling up, blurring into hers, into his, into itself. Red, red, red.

'Chosen,' she tells you. 'Destined.' And suddenly you can see your life through her eyes, a brilliant shining moment that only she can show you. 'Bullshit,' you say; and she looks disapproving and laughs.


Silverlake: Authors / Mediums / Titles / Links / List / About / Updates / Silverlake Remix