Noli me Tangere (original) (raw)

Noli me Tangere
Monday, March 27th, 2081
Third person POV/Partial first

Burgundy waters and bubbles spilled across the floor tiles. Mumbled, garbled vocalizations came out of the mouth of the man, making sense at times and at other times, not. The din of the room was loud, incurably loud; to him and only him, and no others--had there been other people present. It was his utter madness wreaking its chaos on the manifolds of his decaying brain tonight, once again. Once upon a time it crumbled more slowly, only month by month-- and now it was a daily thing. It progressed now as fast as a flu and was damaging like rabies, connections in Ivan's mind were lost forever, as his neuro-chemicals soared to astronomical levels, and drove him to slaughter.

Wash.

Earlier that evening, he had prided himself upon another one of his deluded, "holy" murders. Another woman, his gender of choice. He washed his hands of her now. The last time, his victim had done something to set him off, she had attacked him. This time she had done nothing but exist. Last time. One little day ago. His control had become understandably sloppier since the murder of Pearl, though he kept himself far more tedious than a simple raging lunatic. His brain was having an atomic meltdown, but his calculative cognition was still strong. Strong enough.

~x~x~x~

I drug her into an alleyway...the whore. Fucking that man off right on the street...! She deserved to die in the darkness she had been born of...

~x~x~x~

In the eyes of the madman, he had seen her on the corner of fifth in the bath of an orange street light: Giving a man oral service in full view of everyone.

But there was no man. And there was no crowd, just like there was no Archangel Gabriel, commanding him as a force.

There was no sexual favor being performed.

His seratonin levels soaring and finally peaking, IDES had hallucinated the whole damnable thing. The woman was simply picking up a piece of litter from the sidewalk. You could call her a martyr for Mother Earth. The only 'favors' she dealt were in the name of the environment, they were for no man. What the person who dropped that cheeseburger wrapper that afternoon would think if they knew they had caused an innocent womans death, by that mere action. There was a fine in the city for littering, a costly fine that nobody paid attention to anymore. Afterall, nobody enforced it really. The city was a dump to the whole world practically, who cared? And on a particularly depressing day nobody waited for a trash can to come into view.

The saddest thing perhaps, was what had really driven the man to his madness in the first place. Ignorance. Immorality. That one significant moment when he could finally take no more. Because there was no good or evil here, no darkness and no light--there was only one big tragedy unfolding upon itself like a train wreck. Ivan was the catalyst in Nowheres most gruesome slayings. Rather, his mother was. In all actuality. He had always been such a sensitive child. Such a sensitive child. Who was never, ever considered. Always treated like the perfect high-class citizen robot he was supposed to be. Top of the fold. Toast of the town. Born to lead; flawless. But not. It is fact that in show breed dogs, there are certain flaws and traits that plague each breed. And it was the same for Ivan and his breed. He was a choice human, and there laid errors in his makeup. In his family, there was this long string of people, who had suffered from multiple psycoses. The devil was in the brain--one thing that rang true in his garbled train of thoughts. One more thing that IDES did not realize, that in his degeneration, his reasons and motives were becoming increasingly drunk and without warrant, without reason. Now? He simply did. He confabulated memories later, that he had been told to kill and that he was indeed justified, when in reality nothing had gone wrong at all. There had been no hallucinations, no headaches, no divine intervention. The philosophy goes that 'The insane do not realize they are the insane', and IDES fell into the stereotype like a perfectly set cabochon.

Scrub.

~x~x~x~

"Nnnooo! Please no! Let go of me, ffucking cr--!"

Her harpy screech made my ears ring. She had caused enough pain for the day, so I ripped out her vocal cords and put an end to her. Dug my nails in deep, and tugged and pulled a few times. A good grip on her flesh...and...

Thy deed is done.

~x~x~x~

Splash.

The tiles were a mess and Ivan was now clean, at least physically, of his deed. He smiled. And he said a small prayer, in between odd vocalizations and mutterings. He began to clean up his floor with a soiled mop from the closet storeroom of his kitchen. He thanked God and the angels, and then sat at his desk, observing the vial of toxin, dreaming of the day when he would apply it in his method. A march snowstorm rolled in later that night and covered the womans body with a dusting. She lay so sadly cut short of life, in a half-open dumpster in the crook of that very alley she had been killed in. There was no divine justice, like Ivan so exhaustingly believed. There was no justice in the town, period.

Just a scene.

A quiet, sad and albeit morbidly beautiful scene. Two small highheels, hanging from two small feet. Trash everywhere. A rigored pair of legs attached to a rigored body, with a mangled throat and a face so dark and so moribund and fixed, with a silent, tortured scream. All trapped in between two hinged pieces of rotting metal. Dogs barking. Cats crying. Sirens blaring out empty threats.

And the falling, frozen apathy of mankind.

The night had only just begun.