Atrocity

I sat in contemptuous repose. I should have expected it I suppose. Looking back on it, I can’t help but raise a slight smile. To any passer-byre it may even seem cynical in nature. But the skillful eye would recognize it for what it is; A grin equal to that of which a pyro makes when he realizes the flames have devoured his only exit from the symphony of dancing embers he has created and sneers at the pure irony of his inevitable fate.
I try to remember the last time I had smiled. Such memories have eluded me since the beginning of all of this. It must have been centuries…Not that you could even call my pathetic attempt at mortal mirth a smile. I could feel the muscles in my jaw strain against gravity and in stubborn protest, shift from the impious glare that cold realization had carved into my flesh. Realization of what I was, and what I have become. Yet even worse…realization of what I have yet to be.
My lips, once full and vigorous, now reduced to twin scars stretched taught against my sunken cheeks. Stained a nefarious black that seemed to suck the very light out of the countless God-forsaken cities I had called home, and devoured it in avaricious desire matched only by my own insatiable hunger. The very corners where they met now slightly pulled up as if by the strings of a puppeteer. Strings I had cut long ago.
My eyes, devoid of the single thing humanity holds most dear. The priceless relic they so naively swear by and preach of, yet know so little about. The immortal soul. Now replaced by a mere carbon copy, leaving them an icy blue chasm in the shallow whole of existence. A tear in the thin veil separating the material world and one spawned from torment and lacerating insanity. However, I find that with a little charm, humans will readily mistake detached loathing and predatory scrupulation with that priceless soul that binds them to the cross. A technique I have flawlessly perfected. And I know all too well that the soul is far from priceless…
I tap my long bony fingers against the cold metallic building I have been leaning up against for the past hour. It’s somehow familiar. Yet impossible to grasp. Frustrated, I try to remember where I had heard it before. Yet swiftly wave it away. There are more important things at hand then some long forgotten tune I had most likely heard in some depraved bar years ago. I gaze into a puddle formed from all the putrefaction excreted through the pores of the dark ally in which, up until now, had thought a good retreat from the open city streets. Now distracted from my thoughts, I fully take in my surroundings. It’s empty of all living creatures besides the large gutter rats darting through the shadows and the small family of ally cats behind the far dumpster. And of course the roaches that infested the entirety of it. I could count them if it pleased me in a matter of mere seconds and know the exact number just to ponder how long before these seemingly meaningless insects infected the whole city with a disease created by their own waste. But the trivialness of it outweighed any pleasure that might be gained from such a thought. No, instead I sit and listen to them scurry about with little purpose in their lives. Along with the soft mews of the young kittens pleading for their mothers return. Bitter hunger gnawing at their tender bellies. Bellies that had just recently acquired a newfound craving for the flesh and meat their mother’s milk substantially lacked. I know that hunger…even now trying to banish the thought and the similar aching need.
So once again I turn to other sights and sounds so I can fully appreciate the utter cesspool humanity has graced me with. If only to remind me of why I am what I am and why I did what I did. After all, that is why I have come to seek the company of rats and roaches isn’t it? More rats scurrying. Closer this time, no doubt after the dead crow lying a few feet from me. Unrecognizable except for the glossy pitch feathers that cover the carcass. All this I had known the minute I set eyes on this dark ally. It’s appeal to me lie only in the fact that it was empty of all people. And currently I would choose the hospitality of the roaches over any human. For at least the roaches don’t talk.
It even recently occurred to me that mankind and roaches are undeniably more similar then either would like to admit. In reality, just as I watch the roaches in detest and scowl in sour contempt at the thought of these mindless dregs of corrupted filth reproducing and spilling across the world like a wave of stagnant afterbirth reminding mankind of his origins, I see humanity is a similar way. I watch endlessly as they too scurry about with little purpose in their lives. At least the roaches know what they are and act accordingly.
Something moving slowly in the shadows…a rat of considerable portion. Yet more importantly is the invisible thing not moving. Crouched low, waiting…a nearly inaudible squeak of terror echoes through the narrow vein of the city. The kittens will dine well tonight. The foul odor seeping torpescently from the dark doorway seems to be gradually getting stronger as if to forewarn me that I too will rot in this maze of cement and stagnant blood, should I remain here for too long.
I run an icy pale hand through my jet-black hair. Wondering if this is the best the “great city” has to offer. Best or not, it is the repugnant reality. This shit stained crack of land is what lies behind the bright lights and exorbitant cars. From the roaches that they so eagerly cultivate, to the rotting corpse that bears the familiar stench of human flesh, this is what I gave it all up for. I had had hopes for this grand city. After all, it’s called “The City of Angels”. And what did I hope to find here? Redemption? Forgiveness? Sanctuary? All I can do is manage a deep grunt of contempt. I realize that things are no different. I’ve been in this ally a hundred times. “There’s one in every city” I used to so naively think. Yet now I realize that they make up the cities! I shall never escape the rats nor the fungus that drips from the corroded buildings as if it has the ability to suck the precious life out of an object, proclaiming superiority over the conquered, decaying on the wet asphalt. There had been a time of innocence when I would have shrugged such a thought off, simply excusing it with letting an over fanciful mind get the better of me. But these are not times of innocence. And I know the frighteningly daunting truth behind such an exaggerated statement.
I drop my head a bit lower to block the memories that occasionally enjoy dancing about as if to a beautiful orchestra of my pain and regret. Memories that at any other time I might enjoy profoundly. Or rather perhaps in any other place. With the way I sat in my statuesque pose among the rats, one might even mistakenly think that I am content with such surroundings. While others would insist that I actually belong here and would care not if I rotted away and joined the corpse over there. I motion slowly to my companion occupying the distant dark doorway. Little do they know that such feelings are undeniably mutual. The amusing difference is that unlike them, I possess the dauntless fortitude and boldness to act upon such a mental exercitation and noterary opinion. And I do, with very little discrimination. “For who am I to judge?” I think as I chuckle slightly to myself. Although I do recall in the beginning, being hesitant to the notion of feeding on children. I of course had told myself at the time that such feelings were only due to the obvious lack of substance one could obtain from a body so immature. Though, however true that may be, such ridiculous worries were in all entirety cast aside once I discovered the extraordinary and splendid feeling of having one so young and dare I say, pure. And this is not even to mention the unmatchable sounds they tend to make when you rupture their nubile flesh. This unfortunately hardly satisfies my hunger despite how sensually fulfilling it tends to be. However, discovering that, banished the last mortal coil that haunted my ever-present desire.
I trail my long bony finger through a small puddle of mysteriously dark liquid. Almost half expecting it to devour it with a hunger of it’s own. Why exactly had I come to rest in this darkened ally again? I know that my hunger is starting to effect my thinking and reason. Oh yes, I remember now, as I shift my neck from one awkward position to another. I reach into my now soiled coat and withdraw an aged velvet cloth tied tightly around a small hard object. Slowly I pull the brown tarnished cord and remove the cloth revealing a polished wooden box. Engraved deeply into the wood is an old Celtic design I know well. For I have traced my fingers along it countless nights after a kill while waiting for the dawn. However the box itself holds little sentimental value. It is really what the box incases that is of unimaginable balue to me.
I pull back the lid slowly, catching my breath slightly as the object within is revealed to me. To anyone else who should happen to open the box, the contents would be little more then what looks like a rather large shriveled grape about the size of a walnut. Dark in color, crimson black you could say. However to me…this is both the meaning and the cause for what I am. For this is my lovers heart. Encased within is my hopes and dreams. My pains, regrets, and anguishes. Or rather it had…All that died when the heart ceased to beat. I try not to think about her or what I must do. If it had been possible, tears would now stain my pale pasty skin. But tears are things of the soul…
I had prayed every time I gazed at her heart to take back what had happened. To once again have this heart before me beat the blood of life once more. The blood of stolen life as it had so long ago. But prayers are things of the soul…mine lay unanswered and shall for all eternity.
I gently remove the shriveled flesh and place it in the palm of my outstreached hand. The contrast of color profoundly evident. I slowly close my fist around my dead lovers heart and feel it reduce to ashes as would a dry leaf should you crush it. I squeeze tighter, reluctant to let go and open my hand. Yet slowly I do. Within is a small pile of crimson black dust symbolizing death itself. It was as if in that single action, I had crushed my own heart as well. Perhaps I had. Perhaps within this soulless body there now lies a pile of dark ash where it will remain until Lucifer one day decides to claim the flesh as well.
Without warning I throw the ashes to the wind and watch them rise high above the ally. Dancing with new found freedom to the heavens where they will one day rain down on this blackened world. And I shall drink that rain.
The hunger hits me again. Dawn is fast approaching. I sigh and take in my surroundings one last unholy time. Seventeen thousand, three hundred, and sixty two roaches…I smile to myself and begin walking out of the dark ally leaving my past behind and moving on to find my future…
And my first meal of the new beginning…