Red Lipstick, Long Goodbyes, and Serotonin.

Red Lipstick, Long Goodbyes, and Serotonin.

Van looked down at Ana. After just meeting her he had already realized that he loved her. Right there in the glow of her beautiful pale skin, Her eyes began to flutter again. Now our dear Ana looked up at Van, her beautiful red lips pursed together to make out a few words. She said "Van my dear boy, just another shot, I need to forget a little longer." Red tear drops ran down from her arm as Van pumped her veins full once more. Everything in the room turned a glorious red hue and Ana laid back down onto their mattress.
So with his love falling back into the coma of a deep trance, a sweet silent madness. So mad that the red drops roll down Van's arm and he falls next to his beloved the two of them laying on their old mattress their flight from light together.
Right as Ana opens her eyes she sees Van is staring into them. Marvelous hues of green adorned Ana's proud green eyes, round like records and bathed in the sorrows and pains of life. Everyone told Van she wasn't the girl that you devote yourself too. Of course, we never chose the people we love. Eventually love finds us all, and Van, had found happiness with Ana. A cold and simultaneously warm indifference that shown with radiant rays on pleasure, and a shared life of pain.
Now Ana laughed at his smiling face she kissed his neck and followed it with a little bite. Each bite pulling a little harder. Ana licked Van's blood as it dripped from his neck, and the two of them laughed in their simple room. Moreover, they loved in that simple room, and wasn't that what it was all about.
The flight from life, the escape from reality, from pain, from death and loss. Simply stated, all they had was each other and what seemed like an eternity stretched out before them. A gentle poverty and a deep love, it was more than the best of us could ask for, and less than most of us deserve.

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On the day they wed Ana's thin frame clashed dreadfully with her white dress, it seemed to barely touch her skeletal body, she had the look of a concentration camp victim, broken, damned, and given submissively to a life of sorrows. Sorrows that seemed to mean so much less when Van stared into her eyes. Since, he saw something he loved, and swore to her that he would protect her as long as the two of them were together. And that not even, death or madness could test his resolves, or challenge his devotion. Note, his devotion.
Now, Ana had little memories of a time before Van, and the few she had were dotted with tears, broken hearts and torn pink ribbons, each one stretching across her mind like a magnificent shimmering spider web. Brought into being, by a thousand lives of infinite sorrows reflecting themselves in a million little failures, and unending pains. Surrounded by all the devils in hell, viciously coveting her soul and all of that other hullaballoo.
Of course, Van's best man got drunk at the reception and called little Ana a whore. Everyone stared in silence at her sad broken face, but there would be no tears today, just a sad pursing of the lips followed by a maddening little laugh. Having the effect of the entire wedding party taking it as a joke, but even the girl's laugh bore the stain of a million crimes, committed in silence, and solitude.
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Echoes in the empty apartment bounced around the walls. Singing songs of seconds suddenly lost by the elapse of time and madness, of the erosion of youth and the journey toward oblivion. A reunion with the void. Devouring the precious seconds that these two young people have to share. Erasing the infinity of love and sorrows. Sorrows that paint the canvas of the madmen which pull the strings behind the scenes in this odd and insane world. Do the furies care for mortal happiness, or are we just the playthings of the gods?
She stared into Van's eyes and time halted once more, the two lovers stuck in a liminal expanse of forever. Revealing other forevers and nevers that could no more be mutually understood by mortals. Suddenly time skipped forward and backwards, sideways long ways and all the dimensions and spaces cascaded into a simple picture.
Everything made sense. Each image slowly turned the red hue of the room away. Yet Van, could feel something wrong, for all the finiteness of these flashes, something was tugging at his mind and finally he awoke with a start. The woman he loved was laying dead on his mattress beside him. Melancholy infected his soul. Leaning forward his face buried in his hands.

Dabblenaught

Dabblenaught

By: Selador of Wordcraft

                Azrael Ka cleared dust from the cover of an ancient book. If its title was once rendered there, it was etched clean by time. No matter. Ka knew the name of the book but dared not utter it. The book he gazed upon was the most dangerous object in the known world, and held secrets to unleashing untold horrors.

                But that was utter nonsense. Old stories meant to frighten people away from obtaining the gifts it promised. Ka craved the power, his wealth left him wanting for little, but this, this would be the ultimate prize. He spent years studying the various languages and symbols used in the dreaded book and he was finally ready to reap his reward.

                The book creaked and crackled as the binding flexed and revealed rough pages of an old material said to be indestructible, but obviously stainable, blood scarred the face of many chapters.

                Ka flipped through the pages determined to find the perfect passage, one that would offer immediate results. Immortality would be unknowable and too risky to test. Wisdom perhaps? No. The passage for wisdom would take far too long to incant. Maybe if they had a short passage that offered patience, he mused. Then he saw it. Human flight. He had always wanted to be able to fly. Who hadn’t?

                His excitement began to mount as he uttered the sounds written on the page. His body began to change, at least internally. The more he read the lighter he felt, he found he could weigh as much or as little as he wanted. He could lift his arm to turn the page without needing to exercise muscle control in the slightest. It was working!

                When Azrael Ka finished the incantation, he slammed the book shut with a “THUP!” and a puff of dust smoke, and then locked it away safely in his secret place. His movement was effortless; muscle use was nearly optional when it came to basic motor skills. They needed to be called upon when he interacted with the door out of his dungeon, but gravity did not serve its usual resistance.

                He went upstairs and stepped outside into his courtyard. With a small flex in his mind Ka rose a few feet into the air. It worked. This was real. He could fly. In his excitement he shot into the sky at a tremendous speed… right smack into the jet engine of an airplane.