Tuesday, October 11th, 11:16 P.M.
I didn't sleep well last night. It's obvious who from my last entry. After I realized I wasn't going back to bed,
I got up and took a shower to kind of wash the nightmare off me. It wasn't untill I was breathing in the steam
coming from the showerhead that I realized something. I had failed to ask Rinoa to the Dramatica
show, and the concert was today. Once I
was done beating myself up over my failure, I put it in front of my mind to ask
Rinoa to the show when I saw her today.
I didn't run into Rinoa today before I left for the concert. Damn.
The Dramatica show was awesome. Vanessa Killjoy was in top form. I bet Sparra would have enjoyed the
show. Oh damn, Sparra.
After the show let out, there were police officers
directing traffic. Police officers,
mainly verbrechers, in uniforms with high powered assault rifles. I went out of my way to avoid these
people. I know that the police aren't a
threat to me and that I can trust them, but I don't trust them for a reason
that is not rational. I just don't.
I took a back alley to avoid the police officers on
the main streets. On the buildings that
lined the alley, there were a number of windows leading to apartments. Most of them were closed, but as I passed one
of the open ones I heard some music I liked.
It was one of those pop songs that I wouldn't admit to liking, but I do
like nonetheless. As I stopped by the
window to listen to the song, I heard some voices hooting and hollering like
frat boys. So, I peeked inside the window
to see what was going on.
There were four men, four young verbrecher men, not
much older than I am. Two of the men
were kind of athletic, one was pudgy, and one was just plain fat. Their physical appearances gave me the
impression that they all came from different backgrounds, except for one
thing. Each of the four men was wearing one
of several t-shirts promoting Spiker Sullivan's rally.
There also was a woman, an opfer woman. One, lone, solitary opfer woman, who looked
an awful lot like Delany. There was one
main difference between this woman and Delany.
I don't remember Delany ever wearing clothes that made her look as
trashy as this woman looked.
The four guys were sitting on couches, hooting and
hollering and drinking various beverages, while the solitary woman was dancing
along with the song in a way that was clumsy yet erotic. Once one pop songs started blending into
another, the four guys started chanting "Take it off! Take it off!
Take it off!" The solitary
woman turned her back to the guys and continued her dancing, attempting to
ignore her audience. Ignoring the
audience was made impossible when one of the guys threw a beer bottle at the
solitary woman, nearly striking her, shattering in the wall she was facing.
The solitary woman turned back toward her audience,
still chanting for her to take it off, with a complete look of horror on her
face. You could see written on her face
and conveyed through her eyes that if she didn't do what the men wanted she
knew they would hurt her. The solitary
woman started doing what the four threatening, intimidating, and possibly drunk
man wanted.
She reached down for the hem of her shirt and
started peeling it upward. This caused
the four guys to hoot and catcall, especially when the solitary woman's
expensive white satin bra was revealed.
The catcalls got only louder when the solitary woman reached behind her,
causing her breasts to become more pronounced.
Once the zipper she was reaching for was down all the way, the solitary
woman held the waist of her skirt just for a moment before allowing it to drop
to the floor. Given the volume the four
guys reached upon seeing the panties of the solitary woman, I'm surprised a
police officer didn't come by to see what was going on.
While the hoots, hollers, and catcalls were being
delivered, the solitary woman began to do her clumsy erotic dance again. This was not what the four guys wanted. The chants started up again, "Take it
off! Take it off!", but this time
the chants had a tinge of anger in them.
After a short amount of time being ignored, one of the athletic
verbrechers said, "Hey freton!"
The solitary woman turned to face the athletic verbrecher. When she did so, she was met with a pistol
pointed right at her. The athletic
verbrecher continued talking, but from where the solitary woman was looking, it
was as if the gun was doing the talking.
"You, you freton bitch, are going to take off the rest of your
clothes, and you will do it now."
The gaze of the lone, solitary woman was transfixed
on the gun. No guys, no music, just the
gun. As the solitary woman continued
staring at the gun, her face became sadder and darker. Slowly the solitary woman reached behind her,
and just as slowly a tear started trickling down her face. Just as the clasp on the bra released, and
just as one tear was joined by another, the solitary woman's face
exploded. The solitary woman's face tore
apart at the point on her cheek where the tear had momentarily stopped.
When I saw the solitary woman's face explode, I ducked
down underneath the window, fearing the four verbrecher men would spot me
looking in on their evening time debauchery.
I strained to hear what was going on in the room. For what felt like a long time I heard
nothing, save the music still playing in the background. Then the verbrecher men started talking.
"Dude!"
"Oh my Lord, the one and only son of God."
"What did you do that for?"
"You fucking shot her! I thought you were joking, but you fucking
shot her."
"Oh my Lord, the one and only son of God."
"What if a cop heard that gunshot?"
"Now there's brain matter on my carpet!"
"Oh my Lord, the one and only son of God."
"Dude, you shot her, what do you propose we do
with her?"
Then the voice of someone who had yet to speak was
heard. "Do you know how much people
pay to fuck a dead girl? I know she's a
dirty, unworthy, heathonistic freton, but this is one of the things they're
good for. Hell, she's freshly dead. That's worth more. More bang for your buck, if you catch my
drift."
Oh my God. I
couldn't believe what I had just heard, much less what I heard next.
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
"Yeah!"
They were all going along with it! One guy does something aberrant, proposes
something worse, and the other three are going along with it! I didn't believe what I was hearing. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, untill
I saw something. I saw something land in
front of me, presumably coming from out of the window I was ducking under. It was white.
It looked to be satin. It looked
to be stained with blood. It was the
panties of the lone, solitary opfer woman.
That is when I booked it. That is when I got the hell out of the area
as fast as my legs could take me. Now I
know where the real problem lies. Now I
know what I should really fear, what means the most harm. I can't quite put a name on it, but I know
it's not the cops. Oh most certainly
not.
Hato Shurtleff
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment