It’s late and the clock can’t do it justice.
It’s hard and respite isn’t on the horizon.
It’s sad but tears won’t help.
It’s effort or it ain’t gonna last.
It’s everything or it wasn’t nuthin much.
It’s broke but glue don’t work.
It’s pain and the hurt doesn’t stop.
It’s truth or it’ll never matter.
It’s begun but it hasn’t happened yet.
The tears tasted clean after the blood. So she resisted the urge the wipe her face or control her sobs. Maybe this was nature’s way. Maybe we cried to heal ourselves, like so much sap running to seal over the gaping wound of a lost branch. She only realized the tears had stoped when she heard her own hiccuped breath breaking the silence. Cringing internally and struggling externally she tried to quiet herself.
“Take your medicine,” he’d said before it started. Maybe he’d known. Maybe he could sense the brokenness inside, and wanted to shore up the weakness one broken bone at a time.
The chill of the concrete floor was all encompassing. Tiny shuddering trimmers ran though her like lightning strikes. She was so cold without the warmth of her tears. Till his prone shape shifted upon the couch, breaking her internal focus. Smallness hadn’t been the answer an hour ago still she felt herself trying to draw inward. All of her went silent. The trembling stoped. Her breathing slowed. Time unwound itself in lazy circles.
His footsteps filled her ears till his hot breath on the curve of her shoulder drove out any other sensation.
“Ready for more?”
The question hit her harder than his hand had, and for a second despair leaked into her soul. Maybe when he pulled her upright something snapped. Maybe he either hadn’t heard or didn’t care, but the residue of his rough hand on her arm had left fire not ice. It surged through her veins causing her to flush and made her breathing ragged.
“That seems like a yes,” he jeered.
She met his eyes for a second before reacting. “It’s a no actually!” She punctuated her words with a sharp knee thrust before running for the door. Her bare feet slapped against the asphalt shredding more with each step. She only slowed down enough to throw herself into the first open door she could find.
She could feel everyone’s eyes on her judging and predatory. Maybe she’d run from the pan to the fire. Maybe it hadn’t been steal that clicked into place when he’d pulled her up to him. She walked as quickly as she could towards the bartender pulling at her clothes wishing she was better protected. His eyes moved in an up then down appraisal before they went dull and cold, the smile gone from his unshaven face.
“I…”
The small bells over the door rang, announcing the newest patron. She didn’t have to look to know what she’d find. Not a single pair of eyes would meet hers, and those looking her way held themselves in postures of disdain not concern. She froze like a deer in headlights as he cracked jokes at her expense while the bartender, an obvious acquaintance, laughed along.
The sound followed her into the night and haunted her every step. Each block she put between herself and the known danger seemed to put her a block closer to the unknown dangers lurking just out of sight. By the time she made it to the police office her feet throbbed in time with each side stabbing breath. Her progress was watched by the unblinking eyes of surveillance cameras and measured in dirty footprints by the age-worn police officer at the front desk. He waited for her to approach his counter never once offering assistance.
“I need to report a crime.”
He scoffed, lifted a phone, and requested assistance. Ignoring her completely he started to fill out paperwork. Each second he refused to acknowledge her and every line he scratched on to the form tore at her resolve. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe tears make you invisible, the salt slowly eroding anything of value till nothing remains.
“Jerry from The Stoop called awhile back,” he said while filling out page two of the form. “How’d you think this would play out? Drinking alone. Dressed like that. People shouldn’t be surprised when they get what they ask for.”
Frustration blazed down her spine. Shame flamed in her heart. Conviction seared through her veins. This time the tears wouldn’t sooth. These tears were gasoline, and she wasn’t going to stop till she burned the whole institution down.
Image as seen on WritersCafe.org
All rights to owner
I’m soaked through to the skin before the heavy doors of the convent close. I blink the world back into focus. It seems too dim, as if I looked overlong into the sun, but it isn’t. Its just the way I left it. The wet weight of my knife begs to differ. Three blemishes upon society gone, and one innocent…if not saved then at least helped. But I am not an equalizer, I’m a sin eater, and as the sound of sirens fill my ears the hunger returns.
*******
Well that’s the end…for now. Thanks for reading!
If you stayed with me till the end thank you, it means a lot. I hope you liked it. I wrote this all at once, but decided that it felt more like a graphic novel than a traditional fiction. So I released it one paragraph at a time. Each post like a flipped page.
Please, leave a comment I would love to hear what you think.
I see a world of greys masquerading as one of blacks and whites. This pompous man beneath my knife is cloaked in the white of innocence because there is no chargeable wrong in his past. I cannot connect him to any criminal findings, but innocent…I think not. I watched as the small sins of this arrogant man piled up into monstrous mountains that rival even the most heinous of offenders. My knife falls and the world around me lightens. Crimson.
I lean in closer looking at the world reflected in his ruddy mess. Never had the dark stains upon him been more clear than in that moment. He gave nothing to the greater good and all it cost him was everything. His one and only gift was color to this grey place, and not even that did he give willingly. The moment passes, and the puddle becomes nothing more than the tacky ink of a poorly drafted life.
I walk away as if nothing happened because nothing did. The corpse behind me is further diminished with each step, but the discord it represents is not. This one calculated strike has not, cannot, rebalance the scales. So I continue on. My measured footfall upon the concrete is steady, and the building thunder threatening a torrential downpour reassuring. Let the heavens weep for humanity.
The jazzy music slides over her skin like smokey silk. Her practiced smile barely hides the animal hunger in her deeply kohled eyes, but all the poor sucker on the stool beside her sees is the come hither in her bold touch and shy words. I see blind leading blind. He’s no angel. It’s not to gently escort her home that he takes her arm, and she knows it.
Would be John number three hits the pavement hard. The looker with the eyes scoffs as she bends down to relieve the man of his valuables. In her stilettos she cuts quite the backlit silhouette pocketing her treasures. She never hears me as I wrap her in my embrace. There’s no need to whisper in her ear she’s already asking herself if it was worth it. I bet…our answers differ.
The rain starts up signifying the nearing end of my night. The wail of an infant pulls at me. I follow the sound to a dirty vacant lot where some tweeking crack whore has abandoned her misbegotten offspring. Even covered in filth its the purest thing I’ve seen tonight, the closest to true white grey can offer.
I’m soaked through to the skin before the heavy doors of the convent close. I blink the world back into focus. It seems too dim, as if I looked overlong into the sun, but it isn’t. Its just the way I left it. The wet weight of my knife begs to differ. Three blemishes upon society gone, and one innocent…if not saved then at least helped. But I am not an equalizer, I’m a sin eater, and as the sound of sirens fill my ears the hunger returns.
*******
Rights to all the images belong with their creators who I thank for placing such wonderful works on the internet.
*******
I wrote this all at once, but decided that it felt more like a graphic novel than a traditional fiction. So I released it one paragraph at a time. Each post like a flipped page. However, I wanted to release it all at once for those who prefer a more linear timeline, or might have only stumbled upon it near the end. So which ever you prefer.
Please, leave a comment I would love to hear what you think.
All rights to owner
The rain starts up signifying the nearing end of my night. The wail of an infant pulls at me. I follow the sound to a dirty vacant lot where some tweeking crack whore has abandoned her misbegotten offspring. Even covered in filth its the purest thing I’ve seen tonight, the closest to true white this grey world can offer.
*******
Tomorrow is the last post in this serial blog. I hope I kept your interest. Thanks, as always, for stopping by.
All rights to owner
Would be John number three hits the pavement hard. The looker with the eyes scoffs as she bends down to relieve the man of his valuables. In her stilettos she cuts quite the backlit silhouette pocketing her treasures. She never hears me as I wrap her in my embrace. There’s no need to whisper in her ear she’s already asking herself if it was worth it. I bet…our answers differ.
*******
Did you think it would be the woman or the man after yesterday’s post? Hope I have kept you interested. Thanks for reading!
All rights to owner
The jazzy music slides over her skin like smokey silk. Her practiced smile barely hides the animal hunger in her deeply kohled eyes, but all the poor sucker on the stool beside her sees is the come hither in her bold touch and shy words.
I see blind leading blind.
He’s no angel. It’s not to gently escort her home that he takes her arm, and she knows it.
*******
All rights to owner
I walk away as if nothing happened because nothing did. The corpse behind me is further diminished with each step, but the discord it represents is not. This one calculated strike has not, cannot, rebalance the scales. So I continue on. My measured footfall upon the concrete is steady, and the building thunder threatening a torrential downpour reassuring. Let the heavens weep for humanity.
*******
Hello, this is part three of of a serial blog which started on Monday the 17th. Thanks for reading.
All rights to owner: Sin City cityscape
I see a world of greys masquerading as one of blacks and whites. This pompous man beneath my knife is cloaked in the white of innocence because there is no chargeable wrong in his past. I cannot connect him to any criminal findings, but innocent…I think not. I watched as the small sins of this arrogant man piled up into monstrous mountains that rival even the most heinous of offenders. My knife falls and the world around me lightens. Crimson.
*******
This is part one of a story which I have broken into seven pieces. I will be posting each of these parts on consecutive days. This is the first time I have truly serial blogged so…I hope you come with me on this journey. Also, that I make it worth your wait. Thanks for reading!
b00kreader 