Pursuit of death or life

[Lunaire_Fleur]

-They said I was insane-but can they truly say that? This disease hadn't dullen my senses, the disease stimulated them and brought forth the best of me. I didn't break, I wasn't insane, you can judge it yourself, wasn't my work of arts marvelous? Could an insane man have done that with his dull sense and weak mind, no he couldn't. So I ask you, how can you dare say that I am mad? I haven't-nor will I ever be mad, don't give me that look. Oh, I'm sure you had read about my great works of art with those blondes. You mean you haven't? Well that certainly raises a brow-let me tell you the story and then you can tell me if I'm mad.

It started on a Christmas morning, once again I woke up to a cold bed and a lonely apartment. Ever since his death it had been cold, devastatingly cold. Oh, no no we won't go into that detail. We won't go into the detail of my hair having been brown at the time either, though I'm sure the readers would like to know that. As I was saying, it was a cold Christmas and for once I had found myself down at a bar. Cancer bombarded the air, those crazy smokers don't they know what they were doing to their bodies? No telling people anything though and you dare to call me crazy?

I was just enjoying a few drinks, honestly. A nice glass or two of nothing that would had impaired my vision. That's when she walked in, a lustful woman. Her curves were in the right places and her thighs down baited with fishnets. A floozy-no a harlot. That's what you guys call those street workers now and days isn't it? That's exactly what she was at that. A pretty one though, nice blond hair fell to her shoulders, it was well kept and glisten against the snow marred into the strains. It was the hair that attached my attention, but I should mention quite a few guys loved those ample bosoms and baby blue eyes. Their hearts sunk as her eyes rested on each one of them and then she took a stool next to me. She would be the first masterpiece-maybe even my favorite.

"What's a cutie like yourself doing here and not at home with a lover?," her voice melted the bartender's heart. Apparently when she spoke angels would sing. Yes, she did have this effect on the lonely men. Who me? Ah, it was the lips. They were plump, palatable, rosy lips they simply melted in my brown eyes. Perfect-the best set lips I ever seen with a woman, because of that I didn't mind her playful touches and flirt.

Excuse me? Did I do what, oh miss please just listen to the story. I still have quite enough to say without silly questions.

"Oh well, heh I live alone actually. My love committed a sinful act and took their life." And with that reply there was a laugh. Check please, bartender, I had more than enough of my fill. She looked sad at the response, a look that told me she was use to the same thing. A harlot that had feelings-that was new. We chatted and exchanged random nonsense-about our loves and their deaths. What we did after that and how she became a street worker.

It was a long night, and yes she did come back to the apartment. I think she had grew fond of my appearance. The bed? Oh-I suppose a harlot such as yourself would like to know anything of that. Yes, it did happen. Now the sweat just wasn't the same the glisten of the candles just didn't flow with my mood. It was always much easier being the bottom person-oh dear, I do believe she could figure that out. Oh well-it didn't make a difference either way. Yes, it was late that night, she had to go home. We exchanged our goodbyes and she thought she left on her own. Something kindled in my mind, let say it was the perfect art.

How did I do it? Oh mon cher, we need not need to go in such small details. Simply said I ended up following her and she ended up in a nice picture. Oh yes, the unknown weapon? It was a potato peeler.

When I saw my work in the picture I jumped with glee-it amused me. She was hanging by the fence in the angel custom. The feathery wings had been dipped into her own blood in fact. The wall directly behind her held a pentacle with her blood, written with her tongue I might add. Yes, yes, of course I wore gloves. I told you I'm not mad. I heard they had to place some of the parts in jars. Yeah, I say eyes and lips look neat preserved in a jar. Why didn't I think of it? Oh wait-I didn't want it traced back to me. She was dressed in white-just like an angel. She was still her pretty little self-her hair still shined with the snow radiance.

They did question me, time after time. I didn't laugh, I didn't crack, no all I told them was I spent a night with a nice a lady. I didn't see the problem and then I kindly shooed them away.

Yes, the boy. He was my next masterpiece right? Flaxen strains tumbled into his sea green eyes. Why he reminded me of myself when I was younger. Carefree and talking to anyone who would listen. I suppose that's how we met-I simply listen.

It was a morning, I do believe, in February and needless to say they were still looking for the harlot's murder. Armed and extremely dangerous that's what they dubbed my profile. This kid wasn't the type to listen oh how I liked that. He had been skipping school and went off to the park instead. He found me, yes I don't stalk people my dear, in the chess area. He wanted a game-I accepted. In the end the winner was to be treated to an ice cream.


I lost.

He liked vanilla ice cream, on a cone not in a cup. And like the first woman we talked and learned about our childhood. A few laughs exchanged and-excuse me? He was a child, oh please, I do hold some standards. No I didn't take anything precious away from him he had just became another masterpiece.

They had found him that night under a full moon. In the park, his lips pulled into a soft smile. His hair perfectly shaggy and blonde. No it wasn't a potato peeler this time, but instead manicure scissors. Oh please don't get me started on how useful those were. It looked like acne at first, they stated in the papers, but these acne did more than keep him dateless. Oh yes, it drained him of his blood. The crimson became a lovely- lunar flower. I have to change something-this was my favorite. It didn't have body parts missing or the scent of Satan-no it carried flowers.

What was the point of these deaths? Now my love, I still have one last one to state first.

It was the fourth of July. The one that I got caught on-I thought it was perfect. Another blond clumsy in my gasp and yes even now my hair was still brown. Need I stress to say this? You say I have a grudge against blondes? That's a travesty -and shame, it was a travshamesty. What you mean I can't make up words- godzooka-lollie.

Yes, yes, anyway he was a blond. A boy freshly out of college with a smile gingerly clinging to his face. He was intrigued that I was alone much like the harlot. Ah this one, yes, I'm surprised you haven't asked yet. We did share a moment of sweat and fond memories in the dark. You say I wanted to get caught? Oh maybe, or maybe I had a craving for the dead by then-please lets just finish the story.

Yes, the police had me as you say bugged. After have a connection with the only two deaths they had since well-let say it was before they were born, they were able to see the connections. So they had a camera planted in the window in front of the apartment, and as I've heard that two cops were always watching. They were waiting for me to strike and oh did I give them the show of their lives.

He was young and inexperience and after that harlot-well I've gotten use to a few new tricks. He enjoyed and I think I did as well-a little fun never killed any one right? But oh how boring his death was. While he had fallen asleep on my bed I took the liberty to bond his wrist and ankles. I'm sure the cops just thought it was some sadistic game otherwise they would had been there a lot sooner. Tell me, what is your fear? Oh how-common. This boy's wasn't common at all oh no. Why you fear stuff like spiders, and death by cars. He was fearing the attack of a cute cuddly little hamster. Hamsters-you know I think they were Josiah's favorite animal.

Now we all know they can't attack, well yeah they can't. Fabulous treat however if you can show me how. I didn't want to kill that hamster in the house either or perhaps I'd let it have a handful of involvement. So instead I had to use a butcher knife. He didn't cry, I'll let you know. He never woke up-it was the perfect way to die. I really didn't want to hear him scream. I wasn't able to complete that masterpiece, as soon as the knife was done; those pesky policemen were on my case. Sigh, oh how hard it is to find those doughnut loving simpletons.

Yes, they found me guilty on an insanity plead, but as I must state. I wasn't insane, no-I knew what I was doing. They wanted it deep down. The harlot? Oh she was tired of her life but didn't know who to turn to. The little boy? His father used him you know, he was used as much as the harlot you could say. And the college boy? He had doubts that failed his life of becoming a business man. And all that they had in common? They shared their problems with me and told me I had it easy. You lost a love-no I had lost more than that you fools. I lost a brother, a love, a friend, a shadow-half of myself. But why did I kill them? It was a fail safe in case I couldn't kill the beautiful face you see before. And for what? To see that selfish brother. Even so I can still honestly say that Josiah is who I love-the second person I loved and the one I cared for most.-+cont+

[Lunaire_Fleur]

These were the words of a madman-nah a man simply assured by the theory of death and sins. And as much fun as padded walls were he grew tired of it and thus planned his escape. An escaped used in those movies where the man hides under a pile of clothing and have a stroll out the door.

The guards were by far the most idiotic people he had seen.

And after that he found himself needing clothes, and with the simple heart he stole. Worn clothes that had basked in the sun for far too long and called out to be turned into rags. If anything, these people could think he was a homeless bum at best. The red fabric became friends with patches of other clothing and the jeans became an source of showing off the ivory legs. And for once he had saw his hair as being far too long, and shed the blonde strains back to the look that reminded him of a sheep dog. The shaggy pale locks falling into the brown hues with the classic looks of the aforementioned dog, or at least for the bangs. The rest of the mousy locks were hidden under the faded fabrics to be lost by human eye. It's grown so much since he last seen a mirror-but he'd spare himself from the humiliation of a mirror's face. Old glasses framed the pale face with lens cracked and frames bent. Oh how he was in the need for money so that left him one thing to do.

Cough.


“Money! I will leave you a lone for money-nah I’ll give you a nice back rub? No? How about I clean your car? Oh so you are obstinate little punks.”

His voice was dim and a lopsided smile accompanied the plea as the brown eyes took the time to stare at the city before him. It had a robust amount of people that was for show. They crossed and danced passed each other with their busy lives never touching. Many people he saw told him of romantic beginnings and sweet ends as they drunk their coffee and lead off to work. His plea was going to be heard by very few in a city were the car horns were beeping in and out.

There was one feature, without a doubt, that lead people to stray away from him--or at least more so then the homeless look--and that was the stuffed toy torn from hems and buttons to expose the cotton center. This stuffed toy went by the name of Snuggles--by his mind-- and the animal form it held? A tanned bunny with a crimson coat.. A childhood toy lost in the firm grip and loosing the cotton from the protrude ears--it's age showed dramatically.+done+

[Larry Yakomoto]

((*swoon* I'ma gonna post, mmkay? ^-^;; If you want someone else to reply, I'll delete it or whatever... just let me know. ^-^))

"Ah! A fellow vagabond!"

Dante grinned his doglike grin and cocked his head to one side. Those two bright, topaz-hued eyes seemed to sparkle at the prospect of meeting someone new, possibly making a friend. It was the simple pleasures that Dante most liked: he always said that it was the simple pleasures that kept you young.

He came up to the rather tattered-looking man, eyeing the stuffed toy in his hands. Oh. Maybe another schizophrenic? he wondered silently. Just last week he had been badly cut in the arm by a jackknife wielded by a paranoid schizophrenic he had tried to help. It was healing alright, but it hurt like the dickens and made it difficult to play his guitar (which was presently being toted at Dante's side in its case).

As he approached the scruffy-looking man clutching the ragtag bunny, it became apparent that Dante was quite tall- six foot six, to be precise. His build was lanky, though underneath his clothes and jacket it was difficult to tell. Making him look somewhat older than the quite youthful thirty-three he was was his hair and stubbled chin: both of them a salt-and-pepper flecked grey.

For a moment, Dante faltered. What do I say now? He looks thin... I could ask him if he'd like some lunch... or maybe just to hear a song. God... poor guy.

"I know this is gonna sound weird," the mellow tenor voice informed the other, "but... would you like to come get lunch with me? I could use some company...."

Hopefully, he hadn't insulted the man. Dante just wanted some company and, maybe, to help a fellow wanderer (Dante was a traveling musician). But aside from the rather weather-beaten, scruffy appearance of the stuffed animal holding man, he seemed like a perfectly reasonable character.

((Sorry... mine wasn't nearly as long as yours. *bows* Gomen. e.e))

[Lunaire_Fleur]

+It's quite alright really. ^-^ and the post is just fine.+

Perhaps he could pin point it was a sixth sense but the voice had directed his attention. No there was no reason that, at first, he could tell if this man had spoke to him but by the judge of the business people that continued to walk that it was his minded being grabbed. His mouth was gapped as he thought on the words best to use, it'd had been so long since his last sane conversation. From the times to purposely freak the lovely interviwers to his fellower captives, there was never such a need to use a good tongue.

Brown eyes hide carefully behind the thick glasses and tinted undercoating. Perhaps he had bad eyes,or something to hide.Hey if nothing else it just another thing picked up at a moment's notice.

"Oh Me? I could very well join as this lovely company, though I have to say many resturants fine people like me as unholy for I have no money. Or maybe it's because I have the bad habit of people leaving in my persence."

But of course there was always fun in that!

He pushed himself off from the ground, the toy stuffed between his arm and side with a delicate yawn escaping the scrap fester face. Nothing better than to scare people off for being homeless instead of the insane name on the milk carton. How much longer would that be the reason, however, a day or two more? When the press finally got pass the instution's distressful of a person claimed unstable and unfit had escaped their care and even been passed by so often without a second glance. Oh how he was silently laughing at them every second he got. But right now he had the lovely random lunch date.

"But if you wish for company then I shall, with out a second thought of human emotions, join the lovely leeching."

It was blunt and bland to the point to expression of no money. This was the tale of many homeless creatures, they had no money and no one to take care of them. If he was a dog than many it would be different, maybe a soul would like animals and take care for them until their mother cursed them into the pet shop to rot. Oh the good old days of being in a family of animal lovers and then the mother with a deep hate for her job. It was one of the few things grandfather blessed him with--the complaing and hate was left up to the father's part. It was, though, a better life than that of a leech.

+Merp.Sorry it took awhile for a piece of crappy post. x_X I've been reading rants all lovely day.+

[Larry Yakomoto]

((S'aright. ^-^; Sorry I haven't replied yet. I'm out of town, and this is really the first chance I've had to do so. ._.; *patpat* That was NOT a crappy post! ;-)

Dante looked impressed. He hadn't expressed such an articulate, witty reply... but it was pelasant surprise. A smile spread over his features, though and he offered the other man his arm cordially as he stood.

Those bright, sparkling amber eyes of Dante's drifted to the bear clutched so tightly beneath the man's arm, as though his life depended on it. Gingerly he chewed his lip, rubbing the back of his head as though trying to think of something to say.

Other than his unsettling appearance, there wasn't anything to be afraid of when it came to this shaggy young man. He was quite pleasant, polite, obviously honest and rather sharp on his witty repartee.

"You're not leeching," Dante said at length, that small, roguish smile still twitching on his lips. "I asked for your company, and in return for a few hours' time, I'm getting you lunch." He shrugged, still offering his arm to the other.

"So... shall we?"

((*dies* x_x Short. Sorry, sorry.))

[Lunaire_Fleur]

+My post was indeed atrocious to read now that I looked over it. So many easy mistakes I missed.+

A hand was not returned when he got to his feet. Nor a glance of an eye in his direction, instead he took to the red shirt. A pale hand dusted the poor shirt that looked past it's prime, with a tattered hem and stains of dirt. Ah, how it took so kindly to making sure the shirt was in good health during his teen years and how it made such a good night wear during the childhood years. He wasn't a pack rat that couldn't throw a single thing away, it just held a simple reminder.

Soon, however, he took the other's hand in a mannerful hand shake. A smile curled to the pale lips that had hinted to the more youthful days when they had been rosy and plump.

"I fear I can't tip my hat to your kindness, since I have no such item."

Witty? Maybe, he never been much to decribe himself as much. Once someone had mentioned him as brilliant, it was a teacher if he recalled right. And then once he was called foolish, but if one was to mention witty he'd laugh and shake it off with a wave of his hand.
And had he used lovely too many times? His bad, he just loved how the word rolled off his tongue.

"Very well with every remembering of the usual dinner, I'll take up to the lovely dinner."

The usually, accosted with the one name known by kids who loved cakes, Little Debbie. The bold letter haunted his dreams with the old taste of carrot cakes and was...twinkies? No, they were made by hosters, right? This had the strawberry filling that was only pleasant the first few bites. Ah--it didn't matter what it's name was.
It was quiet hard to pin point the age of this twenty-something man (being as one that never went for correct ages), however the stress of life appeared to weather away his youth. Winkled bore under the eyes with the bags that told tales of no sleep. The fine flashy hair had been geased from the lack of finer bathing, as a lake could only do so much without shampoo.