Distortion

    (photo by Andre Kertesz)


"Look at that monster."
"Yes, she is one of the rarest species, we are lucky to have her here, she might as well be the last of her kind."
"Can she talk?"
"Yes, of course but we are not allowed to talk to her."
"Why not?"
"Because of the Red Fear disease....you don't know?"
"In the past people talked to her, befriended her but then someone got closer and she infected him with red fear..."
"Why red?"
"That was the colour of his fear, red.  Each of us carries a different colour. Anyway, his fear was red, so we called the phenomenon  the Red Fear disease and  decided never to communicate for more than specific amount of time with her again."
"Specific amount of time? How long is that?"
"It depends on the interlocutor really. It starts with Brave, which is done mostly by written messages, and goes all the way to Wimp with almost no interaction at all. Do you want to try? What colour is your fear?"
" I honestly don't know.."
"Do you want to find out? Go pee and get in there..we don't want you wetting your pants now, do we?"
                             
                                    .                      .                       .


"Hello, I am Alithia." I type on the big tablet the zoo keeper gave me. Something flashes at the corner of the cage and the monster opens her eyes. She picks up the other tablet and looks at my message.
"I am Distortion." she types and my tablet lights up.
"I want to hear your voice." I type and send. Distortion smiles kindly and shakes her head in negation. My tablet lights up again.
"Whatever I say, you will distort." the message said.
"I have heard and seen many things, Distortion. Let me try." I type and send.

Distortion sighs and puts the tablet down. She looks up at me, her dark brown eyes crowned with dark, purple circles and sits up straight. She stares at me for a few moments undecided, then picks up the tablet again and starts to type.

"I will type and speak, for you to see what I mean." her message flashes and I nod in agreement.

Distortion types something on her pad and my tablet flashes. I stare at her face as her mouth opens. It is bigger than I had expected, it opens and then closes again forming words.

"I want you to be my....."
The sound of her voice enters my ears and spreads through my body.

"I want you to be mine, I want to consume you, possess you... Look how pale you are, and you call me a monster...you...what are you?"

I looked at the tablet. " I want to be your friend." the message flashes.

Distortion types again and looks up. Her mouth, opens forming a slithering snake, her tongue rolls...

"I need someone to....."

"I need someone to feed me, Alithia, you feed me your dreams and hopes and fears. I want to rule your life, own it, I want you to obey my thirst, be my slave."

"......hold me." the message said.

"I can't hear you." I muttered. "What colour is my fear? Show me! I want to know."

Distortion puts her tablet down and nods. Her mass of flesh moves on the floor and quickly towers above me. Her voice enters my head. I close my eyes and open to Distortion's words...my words.

"I will never love you, nobody ever will, you will never be accepted, you will always be rejected, and looked down on. You will beg for love, yet never find it. You are feared and rejected. You are worthless and all your loved ones will scorn you for who you are, they want you dead or gone. Until the day you die, nobody your hold you while you sleep, nobody wants to hold you while you dream, you are alone, dead and white. WHITE... Look at yourself inside me. Open your eyes Alithia...open them and face your fear, for it is who you are."

My eyes are wet with blood and so are my trousers. I wipe the blood away but I feel more coming out. From every pore I bleed.  I look inside Distortion knowing that the White Fear will come for me, the white fear is there, always there waiting for a sign of weakness. The floor is drenched with blood and I shiver.

The tablet next to me flashes and I place a bloody hand on the glass.

"I am sorry." the message says.

Take me Home

       

Take me home, take me home,

where I'm safe and carefree,

where I am fed and content.

Take me home, take me home,

away from the burning sun

away from bone, away from marrow.

Take me home, take me home,

where life eternal,

rivers and lakes,
granite rocks, red cataracts;

trees, flowers and branches

bleed for me, bleed for me,
willingly, peacefully...

oh take me home, take me home.

To the Vampire garden, to our sacred land,

below the skin of Earth

below the burning dust

take me home, take me home,
or else I'll perish here.

please take me home, come, take me home.

My red wine

                (painting by Adrian Borda)


It is the end of Spring,  just before Summer burns the buds and dries the fields that I first feel that my blood is clogging my veins making me all sleepy. Summer is coming and I feel heavy and full, content and bored.
No, No. This won't do me any good.
A strange artistic desire popped out from within me just as I was staring at the white walls of my humble flat in the suburbs.
I need colour, I need new life.
I was never much of a painter though I have tried it on several occasions in my life, more for therapeutic reasons rather than driven by the fire of artistic expression.
I'm guessing that my need for change, for colour, for new life is founded on psychological grounds; the artist within me has yet to awaken. However, the drive is strong and so is the ice-cold light reflecting from my walls, especially the wall above my bed.
This is the wall I must reform first.
Yes, yes. I need to see life and colour and feel passion the very moment my eyes open.
And blood it is, for blood should be; so, out of me it goes and on the wall it splashes.
I slice both wrists and lay on my bed, two buckets on either side. Soon, too soon for my liking, my wrists heal and I have to cut them open again...such as waste of time.
Too bored after a while, I bite them open, the taste is good but I am getting seriously bored.
The buckets on either side of me are half full; if my calculations are correct this is enough for one wall.
Ah, the delights of creation!
My paintbrush soaks and drips on my hand. I lick my fingers, I lick the wall, I make love to the wall.
Why hadn't I think of this before?
My wall is blood red I roll on it, eat it and take a few pictures perhaps? I don't see why not, I haven't looked or felt that good since the glorious 90's!
This is colour, this is new life and passion and freedom; my body is empty and light and bendy and needy...
Oh, so needy. I ache, I am hungry and thirsty again. What a glorious revelation!

I quickly pick up the phone and dial her number.

"No, no don't come, I'll meet you outside. We can go to the restaurant you fancy so much. I can watch you eat and then drink..."
"You sound different tonight; delighted, happy, refreshed!"
"Oh I am. I painted my wall red!"
"Are you thirsty a lot then?"
"Yes, but I won't drink, just a sip, just for the buzz."
"Just a sip eh? Well, I'll pack up some juice, just in case."
"Yeah, you do that!"
"Don't be late again!"
"No, I won't, the thirst is too strong for that!"

I hung up the phone and change the filthy rag that used to be my dress.
 Something black perhaps...and lacy and dark just so that I can absorb as much of her light that I can.
She'll be the spring, the green and red, I'm sure.
She's my fine new wine, all mine to drink, all pure!

爱 AI (Part I) A story written by 17 year-old Macy.

(Macy)

There was a very beautiful and sexy girl knelled at the altar. She was wearing a flamboyant attire and there was a crown on her head. Nobody knew who she was and why she had come to the altar at midnight but from her clothes everybody guessed she was a princess. She closed her eyes and bowed her head in prayer. After a long time, she stood up, smiled happily and ran down the steps.

Suddenly, she tripped and fell, her head smashing against the stone.

" Are you ok? Hey, wake up!"

"Victoria, are you ok?"

"Open your eyes please."

There was a girl on the bed and a crowd around her. The girl had disappeared two days ago.

Finally, a servant found her fainted at the altar but nobody knew why. They were very worried about her, some of them were even crying.

There was one person who didn't say anything; he just held her hand sitting at her bedside. It seemed that noone could take him away from her.

In a moment full of anxiety, the quiet man felt the girl's hand move.

"Doctor!" he said " She is waking up, hurry!"

Everyone smiled happily, they crossed themselves and thanked their God. They waited for the doctor to say something and prayed that the girl would get better.

"Your Serene Highness Prince Vincent, Princess Victoria hasn't got a serious problem but she needs silence in order to sleep. So, apart from one person who can stay to accompany her, all the others must go out." The doctor said to the quiet man.

Until all the people left the room, they could still see the man holding her hand. They thought of the girl's luck to have such a good man.

"Are you ok Victoria? Would you like to drink some water?" He asked her in an anxious voice.

The girl opened her eyes and looked at them man blankly.

"Victoria?" she thought "Who me? No!!! Where am I? What happened?'

"What is it?" he asked "Why aren't you talking to me? Why did you go to the altar at midnight? Did something happen there? Why did you faint?" so many questions, he asked so many questions.

"Stop! Who are you? Why are you asking me so many questions? This is none of your business!" the

girl said angrily.

"I am your fiance! Obviously there is nothing wrong with your body." he said with a smile.

"My fiance? Can you tell me where this place is? No, no please leave my room!"she said puzzled.

"Are you kidding me? This is my palace! I am going to leave now but I will come back tomorrow. Have a good rest BUT I will tell you this one last time; don't try to destroy my plan again! No matter what you do, we must have the wedding in two days and if you play tricks, you will die in a very cruel way. I need that power!" he said his soft manners gone. He was another man now.

This change shocked the girl. Vincent walked out of the girl and she slumped in the bed.

"Who is Victoria and Vincent? I am Alex! Why did the people call me Victoria?" the girl was talking to herself now, all this confusion was driving her crazy.

The fact is that the girl's body was Victoria's but the soul inside was not. That was Alex.

She thought for a long time and began to remember things; her mind travelled over the last thing that had happened to her.



Extract

(photo by Grande Ombre)

She bled for me. As I lay next to her, watching my body change, rejoicing in every bit of immortality that seeped inside me, the mattress underneath us soaked with the blood that her pores desperately vomited. Her head turned towards me, our hands still clutching and smiled at me.

“Don't be afraid, It will be over soon. Come closer...come, I know you are thirsty...feed on it. It's too much of a good thing.. don't let it go to waste.”

I pulled myself above her face and kissed her eyes. So sweet her blood was, it awoke a fire in me I never knew existed. I ran my tongue over her eyelids, her cheeks, her arms and legs. I sealed her mouth on mine and sucked hard. She gave me a small bite on my lip and I felt her body shake with laughter.

“Don't move, stay still.” I said “I don't want to hurt you”

“You can't hurt me. You saved me”she said and she coughed up more blood. Then a terrible sound came from her chest making her whole body convulse, like a landslide, a cracking sound and then her chest started to rise and fall rhythmically.
“Look...I need to breathe again..” she sighed and her eyes filled with blood.

Just then, my heart stopped. My greatest fear and horror materialising inside me.

I banged my chest with my fist as hard as I could though I knew it would never start again.

“Anna....Anna..wake up!” I shook her half-sleeping body. “It stopped, my heart stopped..”
She opened a set of heavy lids and looked at me from a dark crack underneath them.
“You gave your pulse to me, remember?” She pulled my hand above her breast and there indeed I could fill her heart pumping blood again.

“It's done” she said and let her eyes fall close. “Now, I need to sleep.”

I stood on the soaked mattress and looked down on her bloody body and ordered my feet away. The soles of my feet left the surface of the bed and I hovered.

(This is an extract from my book Venetian Red which has finally been completed and is in need of a blood- loving publisher who will set it free.)

Bloody Emma. A story written by 13- year-old Eva.

(photo from www.B177.ru)

Emma knew that after what she had been through, her life would never be the same again.

Ten years ago, she had gone on a date with Jim, the hottest boy in the world. She was in love with him from the first day at work. They had been dating for months, soon they were making out and finally, they got married.

At the beginning their marriage was a fairytale but then something terrible happened.
 Some nights he came back late. He told her that he was at work (he had told Emma that he was working as a waiter).
Although it was obvious that he was lying, Emma chose to believe him. However, the next day while she was looking for something she found drugs and cigarettes in a big, red bag. She was shocked!
As soon as she found them she packed her bags but when she was ready to leave he came in.
- "What are you doing" he asked her.
- "I'm leaving." she said.
- "Why?" he asked horrified.
- "I found these in a bag." she said and showed him the drugs.
- "I don't see anything..." he said
- " Are you a psycho? Why are you doing this to yourself...to us?" she cried back to him.
- "I'm sorry Emma. I can't let you go." he said and closed the door.
That was the first night he hit her. Emma still remembers this and is in pain. After that, she never left home again.
Once she tried to escape and he hit her again and that was the end of happy Emma.

Greece Reloaded (Post- crisis massacre)

Prelude

And so it had come to this.
The once victorious Athenians succumbed to hunger, despair and their own bitter winter.
With no money to buy food, no petrol to warm their homes and fuel their cars, with even their faithful Sun hidden behind thick, grey, clouds for days in a row, raw fear started to run inside their veins. Fear for their children, for themselves, for the future.
The Athenians had no food left to eat. The supermarkets stood desolate and empty. The street markets had turned to graveyards of broken crates and rotting fruit. Rats had claimed them all, rats and cockroaches.

 The lucky few who had managed to steal the last few cans of imported food had digested them already. There was nothing else to feed upon but a long forgotten hope.
Caged in their concrete fortresses, wrapped in blankets, the Athenians tried to think of a way out, tried to find salvation in the few gardens here and there were feeble fruit trees grew to now avail.
 And so they streamed the dirty, narrow streets. 6 million of them, looking for salvation in the countryside where things grew still and trees bore fruit.

The villagers who had already suffering from post-crisis losses of their own, were terrified to see the throngs of starved, frost-bitten people attacking their fields and livestock. There was absolutely nothing they could do to prevent catastrophe.

As a reporter, I have seen many horrifying things; I've been through battles, bombings, exemplary decapitations, therefore, I am not easily shocked.
When my editor told me to come to Athens and find the real cause of this so-called disease, I thought nothing of it. So the Greeks were losing their marbles. I was never convinced these people had any to begin with.

"Madness blankets the country" "Violent outbursts....terrible death tolls"
 "Politicians being devoured on the central square"
"Greeks feed on their ministers, the taxi drivers are next!"
"A whole race under extinction"
 Blah blah blah....everyone knows the press cannot be trusted. I know 'cause I'm it!

There was nobody waiting for me at the airport. Hundreds of people were sleeping on the floor waiting for their only possible means of escape, knowing well that there were not going to be able to buy another plane ticket ever again.
Their eyes locked on me hungrily as I walked by them. Bloodshot, sleep deprived eyes, full of anger and despair.
El. Venizelos lounge was so packed that several armed policemen kept the sliding doors closed at all times. One of them, a confused, little man, escorted me out, from a door at the back.
Though is was not noon yet, it felt like dusk. The bitter wind slashed on my face as I started my long walk towards the capital. There was no vehicle in sight; only a slow-moving stream of people, walking silently, zombie-like towards the departure gate.
 I was the only one moving towards the city on the vast highway feeling their angry, bloodshot eyes on me.

Bloodshot eyes...What the hell was going on? I still ask myself that question.

I saw the orange lights of the flaming city before I set foot on it. Bonfires were popping one after the other. Then,  the smell of meat reached my nostrils, making my mouth water as I hadn't eaten for many hours.

Were these marbleless people celebrating something I didn't know about?

"The power was cut a week ago. I have not way to recharge my phone or my laptop. All I have is this stupid recorder and the batteries in my pocket.
All of them are dead. Dead. Extinct.
I saw the last one almost a week ago making sure he doesn't get a whiff of me.
I'm hungry.
Last night I heard a man singing. I'm planning to go all the way up to the Parthenon as soon as my feet can take me. From up there I'll have a better view of the city. If there is any sign of life, I'll see it.

(I haven't eaten anything since the day before yesterday. Could I eat human flesh at this point? Affirmative.)

Climbing....up...the sacred hill of the Parthenon...
I can hear a man's voice. There is someone alive...up there.
He is .....singing.
I am climbing as......fast as I can.

 ........................Horror, what new horror is this?...it's beyond description!

The marbles of the temple.....are splattered red...it's...BLOOD....broken....human limbs are scattered everywhere. ...I'm going to be sick...
(.......)

I have found the last; the very last Athenian.
He is perched on a broken marble column...holding a piece of meat in his bloody hands.
His eyes are blood-red, his beard is coated with grime,  tears are running down his cheeks.
He is singing! I'm trying to make out the words...this is a rough translation.

I recognize you by the sharpness
of your fearsome sword,
I recognize you by the gleam
with which you rapidly survey the earth.

From the sacred bones,
of the Greeks arisen,
and strengthened by your antique bravery,
hail, o hail, Liberty!

BLOODY HELL!
............................................He is singing the national anthem!"

Blood bath of love / Carpe Noctem.

(photo by DanielEyre)

"Come with me into a lover's blood bath,

with no other blood but yours and mine.

Why linger on the doorstep,

why don't you step inside?

 You're so full of Pretension, Hypocrisy and Pride.

Tell me: Do they all stem 

from a foul excess of phlegm?

This bodily humour will subside,

once I wrap your flesh around mine.

Intoxicated, sanguine and peaceful

in the tub of love, you and

    not sanguinary and blood thirsty,

like they say it will be.

.A little cut is all there is,

the rest will be all mine.

I'll bathe you in a pool of love,

Temptation, and Tenderness,

will be our only crime.

Together we will vanquish Death,

you'll never rot in grime.

Feed with me in a pool of blood,

I swear, it's worth your time..."

Give me your heart (The Queen of Hearts)

                                  
                           

"How do you feel when you break the meaty surface with your teeth?"

"Do you chew or merely swallow?"

"Do you suck its juice or let it drip?"

"How old are you, really?"

"Who makes your dresses?"

She took a deep breath of pleasure and closed her eyes. More than 100 heart beats were celebrating her first appearance in public. She looked at the woman in the front row, the one who asked about the dresses.

"My dresses are my own designs" her metallic voice rang, "A friend makes them for me and in return

I give her something small to yearn.

You over there! My pretty girl you seem to have a soft heart. Come closer,

I won't give you a start."

There was laughter in the room.

"The rituals I perform, the hearts that I consume,

keep me young and warm,

for more than you can possibly assume."

The woman sat at her feet and touched the hem of her dress,

she adored her, like the rest of the press.

Flashes all around her, she turned on the left to show her paler side.

"I have a freezer to keep them fresh, however I must confess,

there's no more room left...what should I do...

where to keep them, my house is full!"

"In the basement!"

"Down the shute!"

They shouted to her amazement,

they all had what it took.

"We love you, we love you..."

"I have your tattoo.."

"RIP MY HEART OUT TOO!!!"

More people had come,

they begged her for more,

she waved an ivory hand,

 to those who screamed at the back.

"What do I do with a freshly harvested heart?

I boil and bake and fry and stuff,

some I eat raw, I enjoy that part."

The crowd grew restless, they had come for more after all.

She closed her eyes and stood up, hands outstretched, she looked up above.

A musical voice escaped her lips:

GIVE ME YOUR HEART
GIVE ME YOUR HEART
OR I"LL RIP IT APART

One by one their chests slowly bled, with knives and forks and nails and chairs.

It was no easy job, after all!

One helped the other on this gruesome task,

nobody screamed, they all laughed.

The red glistening balls

 made a heap on the floor.

Blood splattered on the walls,

they all fell smiling like broken dolls.

She stepped down to the heap of hearts,

and lay upon them like a small girl sleeping on the grass.

"Now where to put them all..." she muttered sadly

 and took a bite from the ripest, bloody ball,

 deep in thought and contemplation.

photo by Natalie Shau

Stunning she was... (The Herald came)



.....but wicked and evil. She had blood in her hands and in her hair and she sat there in front of her mirror smacking her lips and licking the tips of her fingers.

She had killed yet another. Hearing movement behind the door, she threw her shawl around her throat and glided towards the door...room service.

The young man walked inside unafraid and unarmed because he knew something she did not..that he was already dead.....

He walked inside and stood before her with a wide smile drawn on his rosy lips.
This made her feel unprecedented unease.
"What can I do for you young man. You are foolishly brave to have come." She said softly and assumed her  pose sitting on her chair.
She pulled her shawl away from her round breasts, yet left it hang and crossed her ivory legs
slowly.
The young man walked behind her chair,
and leaned right beside her head.
She looked in the mirror to catch a glimpse of his face and terror overwhelmed her..there was no face to behold.
She swirled at him with ready claws, to rip, to tear his face, to gulp his eyeballs whole, though she felt full, indeed, and met The Mouth, a huge, black gaping hole.
It was rotten and reeking and huge. It covered her face and sucked her in.
She pulled back, and tried to pull the head apart.
But it was too late. She heard it suck her in; her beauty, the stolen blood, her flesh.
Its poison melted her cheekbones and drilled into her marrow.

Her heart reached her mouth. He pulled it right out.

Her shawl fell on the floor; there was a throat no more to hold it on.
Scarlet spewing from her throat's hollow, she staggered towards the sill,
decapitated, not yet lifeless,
there was no thrust, only disgust,
when she tried to grasp where was once her head.

The Herald left as he had come,
the deed was done....

PART II

      Stunning she was,

      but she should have known that competition was getting rough,

she should have left for a while, not stay and laugh,
at the face of what was yet to come.

Thousands upon thousands of beasts feed on human flesh,

all  thirsty and hungry and cold,
without a trace of a soul.

They roam the streets night and  day  enslaving our minds, ensnaring our bodies, our senses, devouring our souls..

When one of them is on the loose,

the Herald is brought to set things straight,

Its Mouth is never late

it feeds upon familiar hate, its own kind without remorse.

From the bloody womb of the Earth's core,

the Herald feeds on rotting gore,

but when he doesn't get his share,

he rises above and settles his score.