Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Atrophy likes the sinful ones... Part Two!

In the crisp cool night air she stood, sucking deeply on her designer ciggarette. She loved the tingle in her veins and flesh, as the oxygen level in her blood became saturated with the chemicals from the smoke. Atrophy held the knife blade up to the moonlight and matched the street number with the house in front of her. She knew it would be one and the same, for the house seemed to radiate malevolence. The grass outside this house was all but dead - with nought but a few paper daisies and thistles poking up through the cracked earth.

Even the trees lining the sidewalk seemed to lean away from whatever, or whoever, lurked inside. She slipped the open blade between her breasts, and felt a flood of desire at the feel of the cool blade on her hot skin. With every breath she felt a scratching sensation, and she could easily imagine the red raw scrapes of it gnawing at her flesh as she walked. Atrophy flicked the butt of the ciggarette over her shoulder and stalked up to the door. It was a warped old wooden door with a large brass ring knocker. Everything about the house was unkempt and weathered, and Atrophy thought that she could smell a musty scent. The clicking of cockroach feet made her curl her lip upwards in a sneer at the disgusting habits of even the most sexually exciting men.

A footstep behind her made her heart leap and she felt a sharp jolt as the blade nicked her skin. She did not turn, for she knew who it was. He was trying to spook her, but she was not in the mood to play the naive vixen. She lifted her chin and pulled her hair over he shoulder to expose her bare neck, as if mocking his brazen attempt.

"So, you big bad bull...You think you can scare me?"

She purred each word with a playful pout, and was not surprised at all to feel his hands creep around her throat...

They were strong and purposeful, and he lingered there, halting the air from reaching her lungs. His head leaned in close to hers and he sniffed at her hair. His exhale was loud in her ear, and she found it both enticing and repulsive. They had not yet discussed who was going to play the dominant role, and she was slightly insulted by his assertion. She was a good submissive, but she was on fire when she had full control. This petty man was not choosing her best side.

She moaned as though she was feeling dizzy, and his hands squeezed more tightly. His breathing increased, and he pushed her body forward so that she was pressed up against the wall, with the force of his body behind her.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Atrophy likes the sinful ones...*Updated!*

Gloom dominated the bedroom. Lumpy black candles spilled onto pewter gargoyles. Atrophy indulged in herself and welcomed a night of temptation. Ghoulish themed rooms full of nasty boys eagerly awaited her presence...which was always after the clock struck midnight. She was mean, she was cold, and they lapped up every spiteful word uttered from her blood red lips.

Spineless office Johnnies dripped nervous sweat all over the bar, and she batted them away like pesky flies. Atrophy wanted a man much more vile than they could ever be. Next to her statuesque, voluptuous frame, they seemed to be not much more than a skinny, spotty boy of fourteen. Of course they were men, they were respected in their daily lives, but they were chasing the unattainable.

The last touch to her blistering outfit was a pair of killer kitten heels. She caught sight of herself in her antique mirror, as she gathered up her victorian style ankle length black flowing coat. Satisfied that she was a flawless image of desire, she picked up her theatre length cigarette holder and flipped open her pewter cigarette case. The short walk - or in Atrophy's case, the short stalk - to the club was long enough for one ethereal encounter with her coffin nail obsession.

The doorman met her with an unabashed lick of his lips. It was as though he knew the taste of her, and indeed he did, but Atrophy was not interested in a man that wept from the pain of Kali's teeth bracelet. The snide half smile she gave him as she stepped past dripped with mockery. He wished again that he had been able to bear the brunt of her will. On the other hand, he was somewhat thankful she was no longer interested, for hers was a brutal passion, with a boundless imagination for the macabre.

Once inside the heartbeat of the music pulsed in time with the lights. They were not coloured lights, it was a simple flashing from pitch black to ghoulish shadows. The highlights of the crowd were lit for just long enough for Atrophy to be disinterested in their disgusting faces. She lit another one of her Black Devil Specials and narrowed her eyes at an approaching fiend. He was trembling, and she smelt the fetid stink of his eagerness. In one flash of the dancefloor lights, a large man who seemed to move much faster than he was capable of, stepped in between Atrophy and the boy. She could not see his face and he did not appear to even speak, but something caused the kid to lose his lunch. His head magnetised to the floor and altered his trajectory, not daring to take a sidewards glance at Atrophy.

"What are you? A noble protector?"

Though she was excited by his presence, she would not admit it. There were tests to pass first.

"Not a protector - a hunter." His answer resonated through her body. His face was illuminated by another flicker of the lights, so that his features burned into the lingering smoke.

'Good answer', she thought as she tried to identify his unusual coppery scent.

"So what do they call you?"

"They don't call me anything. But if you wish to place a label on me, how about Brazen Bull."

His bold move to sniff her neck gave Atrophy a tremor of desire. She tried again to identify his aroma, then she sniggered as she realised.

"Have you been in a scrap tonight? You smell like blood."

He stared into her eyes, boldly swallowing her bait. The gruff baritone of his voice entranced her to linger upon the sound moreso than the meaning.

"Would that disturb you? The thought of me drawing blood from another?"

He waited patiently for her answer, for there was a lot riding on how she would react to his behaviour...and time was running out...

She chuckled lightly, and drew out another fine black ciggarette. His eyes flickered with lust as she placed the elegant ciggarette holder between her lips. She took a long moment to light it, and draw in a deep breath before she answered him. He was waiting for her to speak, which was precisely why she did not. With the ciggarette holder trailing a fine film of smoke up past her heavily made up eyes, she placed her thumb under her chin. She used her two remaining fingers she traced the curve of her bottom lip, then she turned her gaze away from him.

"I would rather draw blood from you..."

His lip curled upward, and Atrophy thought perhaps this "Brazen Bull" would prove worth the effort. However, she was all too familiar with men who could talk the talk. He would have to prove himself, and she was always ready to push a man to his limits. He removed a small object from his back pocket and offered it to her. Atrophy furrowed her perfectly groomed vixen eyebrows and stared through the flashes of the nightclub lights. She heard a soft click and the lights reflected off the shiny object. The glistening in his eyes matched the glistening of the metal and she recognised the shape of the knife. Lingering with it pointed at her torso for a few moments, he then spun it around in his hand so that he was grasping the blade and handing it to her.

Atrophy was intrigued and she took the knife from him. As soon as her fingers closed around the handle he gripped tighter on the blade and pulled her arm in close to him. He pulled the blade up to his cheek and traced the point over his face and lip, without ever breaking her gaze. Then without another word he turned and stalked off into the crowd, towards the door. A warm wetness spread over her fingers and she jumped in shock. She looked at her hand and saw that the blade was covered in blood. She ran her finger over the blade to wipe off the blood, trying to decide if he really had just sliced himself open before her. It felt like real blood, and she felt something else too...engraving on the blade. Holding it up to the lights Atrophy smiled.

43 Devil Hills Lane

"Well this is a first."

She bit her bottom lip as she pondered her next move. A strangers house was no nightmare, Atrophy was capable of dominating any situation. The thought of danger lit a fire in her. This strange man had piqued her interest. He wasn't feeding her a line. He was serious, and she had been longing for such a man...a man that would enjoy the torture as much as she did. It only took her a few minutes to decide that she would follow him. She ran her bloodsoaked hand over the doormans chest on the way out. He grinned at her, she smiled at the thought of him noticing the bloodstain later, wondering what the hell had happened.

...To be continued...

Friday, April 2, 2010

Come into my heart...it's cold sometimes...but I've made room for you

'Why am I doing this? Who even cares...I bet I look like a joke.'

She makes my finger hover over the delete key...Sometimes she wins, sometimes she does not. Sometimes she makes me stare at my image, to make sense of it, to validate the existence of it.

Am I like you? I think maybe I am, and that is the reason I am not deleting this one...because I think you might know of what I speak.

"  You fucking IDIOT! Can't you see how untalented you really are???"

I don't like her at all. She is the one who knows when I am down, she takes great pleasure in revelling. She points out my flaws, compares me to everyone who might make me feel insecure at the best of times.

'You might inspire somebody one day. Somebody who really needed it. Maybe not now, maybe you will be long dead, but that's not the point now is it?'

She is the one I long for, the one who makes up for all of the others. She makes me remember the real words spoken to me, by friends and by strangers. It helps me to live with the others, and really I do need them all. What depth can I have if I feel nothing but joy? No, I need this turmoil. I am nowhere near as deep without it. One day it may be my end, but that is my war to wage. They make me question my world and my life. I hate them and I love them, but in the end it is always me.

Why does it scare me so, why does it torment me? Why does it bring me to tears? These words, these little sentences are pulled from the very core of me. My blood flows through each line as though they were my veins. I leave a piece of myself everwhere I post, like an offering from my very soul. I want the eyes that read them to see what I see.