FEMANIA

red and wise

"I'll tell you a story now."
Vivienne perched on the solid dark wood bookcase.

"The small creatures of Mars had taken off quickly and without incident from Earth, two hundred and forty three years ago. Without fail, they'd pile on top of each other in a short orderly way, and blast upwards into space. They knew, not how it actually worked-there's really no explanation-but how they would go about doing it. And that's all that really mattered to them."

The other two girls, they stretched their legs out, lazing in white cloth, covered in a loose film of dust. They had found the perfect place to hide, deep among the attic's rafters, among antique furniture and boxes of old photographs.

"The creatures were sort of ugly in an earthly way, not soft, but hard mollusc things, with claws and pincers, crab like, stocky and beady, some made of pearl, some just pure rock. Universally they might have been adored, Gods on their planets, in their galaxies, ancient and holy creatures, worshipped and created from the energy of their subjects, in normal fashion to an earthly way, they could have been built up and placed on pedestals, gifted all sorts, fashioned and warped into other beings, over time, admired and recreated."

Light filtered in through miniature gaps in the structure, illuminating the dust that floated lazily into the air.

"On Mars they had the most. Families perhaps, and empires formed and toppled. They would have created their own otherworldly beings, their own Gods, their own saints. They would have to find some reason to live, some reason for unknowing, something to keep, something to hold, something with worth. Like most, they'd have created conflict, they'd pick fights, they'd forget who they were, identities blown into dust, taken in vein and heat, bloodied love lost. They'd forge hate from deep within, it would be slow and eventual, creeping and poisonous. Hell would be a place on Mars, and something would have to break. They'd get restless and sick and the scarred wastelands would no longer feel like home."

Vivienne began to tap her nails along the sides of the bookcase.

"The creatures had nothing else to create, nothing left to break.Their surrender to the planet they once loved would mean nothing eventually, just as everything does. And the land would fall again, breathing sighs into space, taking over. Mars would reclaim itself."

Vivienne stopped; digging her nails into the wood.

"The creatures moved on, all eventually would, and they'd find somewhere else to fall for, something else to hold onto. They'd always find more, always have a little too much, always breathe in unforgiving luxury and again, like all, hate and burn."

The attic was cold, scented with pine.

"On Mars they had the most, but it was never enough. The things they couldn't hold, they'd deny, ravage, destroy, they'd forget ever exist. They always did. That's all that really mattered to them."

The other girls applauded, softly smiling, kicking up dust from the sheets where they lay.

"Billie, what do you think?" Vivienne shifted her gaze to the boy sitting stone still, among a pool of spilt blue cloth.

Billie, face wan and sweaty, lips peeling, eyes wild, glanced at the two girls lying on their fronts in the dusted sheets, waiting, dormant, eyes giving nothing, legs gently kicking to, and fro.

"Billie." Vivienne spoke again, voice laced with venom.

Billie swallowed, his throat sore. "I have to tell you what you want-".

"Ah well." Vivienne blinked, suddenly sick of the thick musky smell that came with the attic. "Maybe you just don't understand it as well as you should."

Vivienne swept a hand through her hair.

"Aren't you well enough to understand? I remember when you told me I didn't "get" Capote. What did that even mean, Billie? What don't I "get"? I have always understood. You just stopped listening."

The wine had ignited something inside of Vivienne, who felt a fiery warmth start to emerge from deep within her heart.

"Our time together meant nothing to me, I hope you know that now. It did, for some time, but you've grown cold and withered in my chest. I haven't got room for you now. You just have to wilt."

Billie exhaled, disturbing dust on the scarred wooden floor. "Are you gonna kill me?"

Vivienne chewed daintily on her lips, skin now stained with residue from the wine. "You always get too far ahead. I won't bother saying, because what difference would it make to you?"

The other girls, bored, they got up from their dusted sheets, white socks now tainted with dirt and dust. She drew closer to him.

"That's too much power to give a man. To know his own death." Vivienne placed a gentle hand on his cheek. "You used to hold me like this. And it drove me wild. I would melt under your touch."

Attic air was choked with dust, as the other girls pulled on the door handle.

"Billie, I was ever so madly in love with you. I wrote about you in letters. I whispered your name to the ocean. In dreams I walked with you among the stars. My mind wrapped itself around the idea of you, sleepy and slow vines furling. And even when you left me on that night, stained and tainted among the soil, my love grew still, but in a poisonous way, a grotesque flower, bleeding and gasping. You had my heart on a chain. Billie, your love isn't natural, not even grown. Your love is infectious, dirty and choking."

The two girls had made their way through the door.

"You're hopeless and rotten from the inside out. Bye bye, Billie."