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Subject: .:.Afraid of Me.:.


Author:
Zeth
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Date Posted: 21:47:33 04/20/05 Wed
In reply to: sabra 's message, "mother of demons" on 20:50:04 04/18/05 Mon
 .:. Time shattered like a crystal vase falling at a height of 6 feet from the top shelf of the china cabinet in the living room. The cat’s green eyes peered after it as if to say, “oh fuck” as it collided with the floor and the feline’s master came running to find the orange tabby with his tail curled around his legs and an forgivable look of, “Did I do that?” plastered upon his whiskered face. Zeth was a mere bystander as the shards of glass continued to bounce across the floor, delivering themselves feet away from the accident so they’d be missed when cleanup came. Maybe a year from now, some little child would go running through the house in stocking feet and without warning would come into contact with the single blade that was caught upright in the tassels of the rug. And tears would stream from that little kids face as he hollered the end of the world. Zeth was that little kid. He screamed the end of the world…but inside. Inside far away from where everyone else was inside him. In this little room from the main hall in the darkness of the fifth door that was bolted and locked- Zeth cried without a sob to catch his breath in. He did want to die- Sabra was right. But he didn’t want to die this way. He wanted to do it himself. Hand him the blade. HAND ME THE BLADE. .:.

.:. Finally, the duct-tape wouldn’t hold anymore and the time was reversed to normal speed, Zeth finding himself plunged into the frigid water of misunderstanding. Every spoken voice echoed in his head five times before quieting itself. The words overlapped and swirled, loosing this meaning behind his screams. But he heard Sabra, heard her distrust and anguish. “There’s not an angle.” Okay- he lied. There was one, just one. That cat up on the top shelf had a perfect angle of view for the entire scene that played out with the screaming child. That was the only angle though, I sear. He couldn’t explain why he’d touched her- if she asked. He had acted on impulse, wanted to touch her. Like wanting to touch a fur coat even though your not suppose to. “I’m sorry…I just…” what was he apologizing for? He stopped, bit his tongue and pushed back from her. He wasn’t trying to override her killer instinct. He was certain that couldn’t change without her wanting it too. But it seemed a shame two creatures as capable as they shouldn’t work together. Partners were better than enemies—no matter what the gangsters say. .:.
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Afraid of No one! Ah ha ha!Deangelo12:30:19 04/21/05 Thu

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