Conjoined [Who Died Tonight]

December 11, 08

This place was like seeing in shades of purple that somehow turned to gold hues but was only like lightning flashes of a light cold-blue. Perhaps it was the irises of the eyes that didn’t expand right, or the mind turning the colours too quick into the mind changing what the everyday person knows as green into the colour it desires before it registers. No control of what reality is but only what the brain and self desire. Desire to see.

This place was a concentrated stare of hypnotizing-ly original in the everyday decor of it despite that he knew he never carried a gun in his trousers before. And despite he knew that the leaves on the trees were never this intensely orange fire, he saw insanity as he breathed in through his eyes; he felt insanity as he knew it was December where he stood...Yet where it really was spring. He saw her then, and never noticed his hands taking the gun out.

In a black tank top and dark jeans, he tried to see her features...but just as he saw he forgot. It was as if looking into a fish tank, he himself was a fish and this girl, and another half of him stared from the outside. He could not concentrate on both and could not tell you the colour of the fish...but only that it was.

He bore the gun with a quiver the girl not looking at him but past him and walked through him the first time. He breathed in and turned to say, with a voice he heard when he recorded his voice...but not the voice he heard in his head, “Stand where you are, I’m going to shoot you,” The words were not his own and he only watched it play out. She turned back towards him and laughed.

“Kill me? And what shall I give you in return?” She walked up to him, seemingly uncaring of his threat, slivered her arms around his. A hand on the gun arm he had let fall limp, his surprise with her lips so close to his ear.

“What shall I give you in return? Riches, money, fame, prosperity, peace of mind,” Her hand drifted downwards in the most seductive of manners. If she were death she’d conquer them all to suicide, begging for the breath of her rebellious calm nature. Calculating and cold he felt her teeth would be, but she spoke down just brushing the zipper of his jeans.

“Self satisfaction?”

She fell back now, and leaned against the fence which he had not noticed. And noticed now what he had not noticed was that they were on a bridge. He had no notion of why he cared now, nor did any reason for why he realized the water was disgusting and there were little boats of what he know were from his childhood that docked along the sides of the canal the bridge crossed. The rails of the fence were an ugly blue terribly painted by the lazy slob he’d make faces at in his free time at the opposite way where his apartment used to be at his age of being young. He didn’t look, because the non reality had taken a hold again and spoke for him,

“I’m going to shoot you,”

A wretched pain wrung him. Despite him standing still in the fish tank, outside he fell in contorted circles holding the head digging finger nails into the tender flesh begging for some release. And from the girl he heard dim shouts- too distracted to see her image now more than ever- “Then shoot me damnit! Shoot me!”

“Aren’t you cold?” He stares again, his breath harsh from his outside view torment. A gleam in the eye with the smile and a soft answer,

“Do you want me to be?”

“It would make more sense,”

“It doesn’t have to make sense here.”

Where the decision came he does not know. And he shot her. She fell and he felt his own chest for a wound not there. Walking towards her lifeless body he stooped to her tender flesh, milk coloured and smooth neck, and wishes for her last words. They fall affectionately as if the first drops of rain on the first warm spring day into the unconscious of his mind,

“I only wished to be loved and never lie,”

And he points the gun to himself. The fish tank shatters.