Woah Woah Woah, Nuh-Uh, Bitch.

OK, firstly! New Blogger, say whaaaat?

I'm fairly apathetic towards updates and such, but this is nice I suppose. Like, I've never freaked out any time Facebook changed something; as long as I can use it, I don't care. But things are evolving, oh my brothers. Soon it'll be Google+ and new Blogger and fancy Youtube all over the place.

Ahhh interwebs, I sort of miss the classics, like the original Youtube, with stars.
And MySpace.

Anyway.

I am obviously a person who is not afraid to speak their mind, like, ever. I'm fairly open about my love of sex and drugs, and I make my opinions known whenever I feel like they should be. I feel that honesty is always the best policy, and should only be put aside in self-preservation situations (ie lying to ones parents about whose house one is sleeping at, or cheating on a chemistry test in order to pass the class. That's fine.)

Unfortunately, my new policy of radical honesty has been getting me into trouble. It's not that I don't lie, ever, its that I don't tell white lies anymore. If that dress makes you look fat, I'll let you know. I feel that it would be more of a disservice for me to lie to you and set you up for humiliation than to simply quiet any foolish notions that you may have from the get-go.

The thin-skined friends I have tell me I'm being mean, to which I say, woah woah woah, nuh-uh, bitch. I'm being honest when asked my opinion, not going out of my way to put people down. There is a difference!

It is definitely not my fault that society has conditioned people to expect to hear only nice things from their friends. Simply because I am not saying what they want to hear doesn't mean that I'm saying over-aggressive bullshit meant to hurt their feelings.

In my opinion, true friends are nice, but truthful. Hurt feelings are collateral damage.

It's not like I'm never nice, because I can be very kind and cordial. I'm not a constant stream of smiles and thoughtless compliments, but I'm not like, rude to people on principle. I'm nice to people who I like, neutral but polite towards strangers, and only ruthlessly mean to a very select few people whom I dislike.

That group of people is very small, I promise!

I don't know.

Maybe I'm just soulless and destined for Hell. Whatevs. I'm down for some warm weather.
Julia

Ha. Ha. Fuckin. Ha.

So, Dearest Luke, you know how you wrote that post about how crazy you were going from not texting that girl for an entire 15 hours?

I believe that I'm beginning to experience those same feelings of withdrawal now... I'm even listening to Damien Rice in attempt to let my thoughts run their course, but it's not really helping.

And I know what this means.

This is not good.

Not good at all.

Oh God.

I promised myself I wouldn't let this happen, and look, it's happening.

Oh shit.

I really don't have the time to be wasting on this, but look, here I go, like the wayward child I am, wasting my thoughts on a boy whose thoughts are otherwise occupied.

Oh Lord Jesus.

I am so incredibly fucked.
Julia

Isms

Ughh. I spent all day in bed doing AP homework. I would have gone to school, except when I woke up my feet were so swollen that I couldn't walk. Yayyyy airshow.

It turns out I did my math wrong due to Monster buzz and I actually worked for about 27 hours this weekend. My feet spent all that time laced up tight in my combat boots (which I literally beat to death, the soles on each foot are cracked beyond repair) and I broke three toes (two on the right, one on the left) and I think I have a stress fracture in the ball of my foot on the right. My feetsies are not happy campers.

Along with the sadness of having to retire my combat boots, which have been my trusty, sexy, rugged, go-to shoes for the past three years, I feel ugly and stupid and gross and its just been one of those days :P

Anyway.

Today, since I've been starved for human contact, I started thinking about speech patterns and isms. Like, I have little Juliaisms that I use when I speak; the most obvious ones are that I say "yo" like a skate kid and "n shit" after many of my sentences.
ex: "Yo, are we gonna hit up Chipotle n shit?"

I also noticed today while talking to Fsb that he has some Wsbisms, because they used to be so tight and all. And Wsb used to always say that I had the Isms of his ex fiance (because I knew her for about seven years before he did). And it got me thinking about my own isms and how half of them aren't even mine, they're assimilated from the isms of my friends.

I started thinking about how I write with certain isms that I never use in speech, and how other bloggers have their writing isms, and then I started wondering if their writing isms were anything like their speaking isms and then I wanted to have a massive blogospehere conversation so I could find out.

What are your isms?
Julia

Garbage Juice

I spent the weekend working my ass of taking out trash for a total of 19 hours this weekend. I led my team of three underlings and we patrolled crowds, liberating trash cans of their [frankly] disgusting contents. I got covered in a plethora of liquid substances, including warm beer, rancid lemonade (with lemons! yum), charcoal water, and secretions coming from rotted meat. Fun shit, right? This combination of nasty-smelling, uniform-covering liquids has been coined 'garbage juice', and let me tell you, it is fragrant.

I was covered from head to toe by the end of each day, and despite vigorous showers, I still feel dirty.

However! I made new friends, got closer to old ones, got a bunch of military recruiter swag, had a Monster chugging contest, and wing-walked an actual F-18 fighter jet. Uh yeah, super bad ass.

Anyway, this is a picture of me and my buddy having an epic stand-off with these large neon rubber bands that we were using to hold the trash bags in place. I'm the tiny one (duh), and dude, those rubber bands hurt!!




Hope your weekend was as epic as mine, but I doubt it ;)
Julia

Rooftop sex. Night: complete.

Zebra Tape And Future Sex.

I simply dislike being robotic.
Seriously, all this school routine is making me feel like a wind-up toy. I wake up at the ass-crack of dawn, go to school, come home and do homework for hours, and then sleep, repeat. I feel like I should have a large key in my back or something so that incase I get tired, someone can just crank me up again.

It's just been one of those days.
Maybe it's because Wsb left this morning. I woke up to his goodbye text, and have just been in a funky mood all day. Not so much because of his departure, I'm ok with that, it's more just this ongoing pensiveness sparked by waking up to a goodbye text from a boy I never really thought I'd say goodbye to.

But, there's nothing like a little hair bleach to brighten one's day. My hair's a paler shade of white now. I love it :) Hair bleach really is a wonderful thing.

Big news!! I got a roll of zebra-print duct tape. I repeat for emphasis: zebra fucking duct tape. Most valuable purchase of my life? I think so. C'est magnifique. My AP Language binder has never been so happy in its life.

I feel like tomorrow, I'm going to put in effort. Like, today, I woke up late, went to school in glasses and sweatpants, and came home and procrastinated. Tomorrow, I'm going to look pretty, get my homework done, and be excited about life. Since life is what you make it, I'm going to make tomorrow be a good day in order to make up for this one.

Do you do that? Decide that a day will be good or bad the night before? Maybe I'm just weird like that.

Maybe I'm also feeling a little more optimistic because Fsb just asked if I wanted to go to dinner with him tomorrow night. Like, literally just now.

And he said 'I'll make it worth your while' which my hormone-addled brain has interpreted to mean Imma be getting laid tomorrow night. Consider me perked up.

Julia

Kiss Today Goodbye

And point me towards tomorrow...
Yes, only a lyric from A Chorus Line could describe the way that I feel right now.

I just hung out with Wsb for the last time. I mean, he comes back for Christmas in a few months, but who knows if we'll still be friends by then. It honestly feels like I'm never going to see him again, like the end of an era.

I feel like it's a pretty solid ending, talking in the park by his house at two in the morning, not high, not lusting after each other, just talking really deeply.

I was finally able to discuss the situation with him, and I can see his side a little clearer now. Not enough to not be hurt, but enough to find closure for myself. And I finally got him to realize just how badly he fucked up when I mentioned the one person who had found out about it who I knew he couldn't simply write off: his ex girlfriend. (technically, ex fiance)

Once I mentioned that she knew, I think it finally hit him that he had actually fucked up. And I didn't mean to do it in a vengeful way; that ship has sailed. I mentioned it because I knew it would be the one thing that would push him over the edge and make him learn something from this whole fucked up situation.

And we discussed life and each other and Fsb and everything, and now I'm ready for him to leave, as in I'm not going to freak out and pine after him.

Just as we were walking to his car, he put his arm around me and pulled me close, saying quietly "Thanks, Jules."
I said "For what?"
He just smiled and whispered "For talking."

Tonight was a good end point for this crazy whirlwind romance.
I know I'll never forget it.
Julia

Boom Boom Room

Nothing like some deafening techno and flashing lights to get a girl's mind off of her problems. When your heart beat matches up to the bass and you can't keep yourself from dancing, it's the best feeling in the world. After a while, the lights start to taste like candy and you no longer care how you look, you just want to give yourself to the music. And then you look up and see that everyone else is feeling the exact same thing and that's when you know: It's time to rage.

I went to a huge rave last night, with 4 stages, and everyone wore white. It was soooo sick. I haven't been to a rave in about a month, and I missed it like crazy! I finger dipped about a point of molly, and I was back in my element, dancing like a go-go and raging like there was no tomorrow.

Next one is in 2 weeks, I can hardly wait. I'm going to try and get Fsb to go with me, because he is one of the only people I've ever met who loves dubstep more than I do.

Speaking of Fsb, I haven't done what he wanted... I haven't told Wsb that we hooked up. Yet. There's always the possibility that I still might. But right now I'm just trying to slowly inch my way out of Wsb's life and into Fsb's with as little drama as possible.

Hope you all had lovely weekends full of shenanigans,
Julia

Trouble Trouble Trouble

Oh God, I am in so much trouble. Like, words cannot even describe how gleefully terrified I am right now.

Short version:
I kissed Fsb. And it was great. And now I don't know if I should try to keep it from Wsb or not.

Long version:
You have to know that Fsb and I have a history completely separate of all the recent events. I met him about a year ago with some friends on Pearl, and we all spent the day chilling. We've been in random contact for all the time since, and despite him being massively involved with his (now ex) girlfriend, we've been always been mildly flirtacious with each other. So this is not completely coming from the vengeful place where you think it might be coming from.

We decided to hang out tonight, and it was completely friendly. We walked around old town (which is the part of town where all the houses are old as fuck and the streets are windy and badly lit) and talked pretty thoroughly about the Wsb situation.

Fsb's main issue is not the fact the his girlfriend cheated, it was that she cheated with his former best friend, and that his former best friend let it happen, which I think is a very understandable platform to have on the matter. My main issue was that Wsb essentially led me on, then acted as if he did absolutely nothing wrong (which although he technically didn't, he totally did). He made me think I had a chance, but I just turned out to be convenient.

So there we were, Fsb and I, chilling in the playground at the back of a Catholic elementary school, when Fsb straight up asks me if I want to hook up. Initially, I said no, knowing that he had vengeful motives. The dude can be ridiculously manipulative, vindictive, and scheming. I asked him seriously if things were done between he and his ex (because they've been on again/off again for forever, and I didn't want to be a rebound in the middle of an off again period) and if he was only asking to get back at Wsb.

He told me that he and his ex were done. History. And I not quite believed him, but he sounded pretty serious. He then told me that it wasn't only to get back at Wsb, but that he'd had a small thing for me since we met. And then he leaned in... and I pushed him away again, telling him that the timing was terrible and I felt like his tool of vengeance, not his conquest.
He laughed and began to back off, and then I kissed him.

And God, did it feel good.

After 3 weeks of the same, it was nice to feel someone new, with new tricks and new traits. And I knew that I felt just as vengeful as he did, and that the fact that he had his hand up my shirt in the playground of a Catholic school just made the whole situation that much more evil-feeling. And with all the spite and vengeance raging inside me, I felt really good for the first time all week.

Afterwards, he was talking about how he hoped I would tell Wsb and that he wanted to watch the drama unfold. He wanted to know that his vengeance had been wrought. He told me that I should tell Wsb about it, just to watch the shit blow up.

Here's the issue: I'm really not that angry at Wsb anymore. It's more just pity and disgust, and I see no reason for more hurt to happen in this situation. And I don't know wether to tell Wsb or not if he asks about the bruises on my neck. I'm a truly vindictive bitch, but I cannot forget the amazing 3 weeks that I had prior to the situation.

I don't know what I think of Wsb. One morning, I woke up in love with him, actually crying because I knew he'd be leaving soon and I didn't know how to say goodbye. By the end of that day, I never wanted to speak to him, let alone see his face again.

And now I've kissed Fsb, and I have the power to completely betray Wsb in return for his betrayal of me, the question is, will I use it? Will I knowingly hurt the boy that I was so enamored of? If I do, where will that put me on the hypocrisy scale? Where will I stand with Fsb?


Good God, I'm in trouble.
Julia

Rolling In The Deep... Shit, That Is.

Oh lord, I am in trouble. I am in trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble!
Maybe it was an act of spite, maybe I just enjoy bringing shenanigans upon myself (let's be honest, it was both), but I've begun talking to Wsb's ex best friend. You know, the one whose girlfriend he slept with?

We'll call him Fiestyskaterboy. He's the one who told me about Wsb and his girlfriend... He and Wsb used to be tighter than tight, but are basically sworn enemies now, although it's a very quiet hostility between them. But Fsb and I are both pretty angry at Wsb and Fsb's girlfriend. We've been discussing the matter among other things, and now I'm bonding with him over it.

I am determined not to do anything stupid, like sleep with him, because I know he still really loves his girlfriend (although they've had years of various issues of their own) and I know I still like Wsb... But this whole mess is providing a way for he and I to become better friends, which I suppose could be constituted as some sort of silver-lining to this dark cloud of infidelity.

But, my fraternization with Fsb is not the only thing I've been doing in spite of Wsb.

I have begun talking more and more to Aeb as well, and I know he wants to start hanging out. I am pretty sure that Aeb has a thing for me.

On top of that, I've hung out with Wsb since I found out about everything, and he doesn't seem to realize that he's done wrong. I'm quietly going along with it, because I have no grounds upon which to confront him. It's not like we're dating. There was no official commitment, so he technically didn't cheat. It just feels like it.

I don't even know where I stand with him anymore. I don't know if we're friends or fuck buddies or unlabeled dating or what. It's all very confusing. I don't know what I'm going to do when he leaves for school next week. Shall I cry and miss him terribly, like my heart says? Or bid him good riddance, like my head says?

And I know that it's terribly hypocritical to spite Wsb's actions by talking to other guys, but it just feels so satisfying to know that he's not the only one with other options. I'm honestly hoping to resolve this shit and get back to the way things were, but I don't know if that's even possible at this point.

With all this juggling, I know someone is going to have to get dropped. In fact, two people are going to have to exit the mix, but the question is, who?

Do I kick out Fsb, who is not the nicest guy, but who shares an understanding for the complete betrayal that has been heaped upon both of us? What about Aeb, who is trying really hard, and has potential, but I just don't know if he can handle me? Or do I drop Wsb, who, aside from the past few days, has been amazing and has completely changed my summer.

What do I do? Which boy do I keep?


Good lord!
Julia

Hora Mortis Nostrae (pt 7)

There is no update... I have no words.

Here, have the end of my story.

Recap: Felix and Jesus have finally made it through all seven floors of the Hell building, and have tumbled into the room belonging Kale.


Part Seven

Standing above us is a tall, very buff man with red skin and two little knubs on his forehead. He wore an all-black three-piece suit and shiny Italian leather shoes. He looked annoyed.

“Just what the Hell are you two doing in my building? How did you get up here?” he asked. His tonality suggested that he didn’t get surprise visitors very often.
“Uh.. mmm. Errr.” I tried. I didn’t fully know why we were here, only that I had braved seven horrific rooms to get here.

“Kale, we’ve come from Fiona,” Jesus took over. “She wanted to give you a message.” He dug around in his robes for the envelope.

Kale looked intrigued. I didn’t know what the story was between him and Fiona, but it appeared to be very different from the mortal enemy thing that church had initially made me believe about God and Satan.

Kale himself looked slightly Satanic, but less demonic, goat-like, and monstrous. He honestly seemed to be just a demon in a bad mood.

“Aha!” Jesus exclaimed as he held out the envelope.
Kale silently took it, thumbed it open, and pulled out a card with party balloons on it. When he opened it, the words “You’re Invited!” sprayed across the front in gold lettering. My stomach began to twist.

He read the card aloud:
“You are hereby invited to a re-birthday party for John Lennon, who will be re-rolled out into the world next week. We here at Heaven Inc. would appreciate your attendance, though we humbly request that you leave your pets at home. Please RSVP immediately through your messenger. We hope to see you there!” Kale smirks as he considers the invitation.

“Sure, “ He says, bemused. “I’ll go.”

I keep thinking that something else will fall out of the envelope, that some other important matter will be discussed. Perhaps Jesus had a verbal message too. But no, they chatted blithely for a while about the goings on outside of Hell, because apparently Kale didn’t get out much.

As they swapped small talk, my stomach began to twist in rage. I know I didn’t risk my life seven times in a row to deliver a party invitation. That couldn’t be. I glanced at the card in Kale’s hand again. No. No no no. Not fair.

I scanned the room for an exit, and there, in one corner, was a fire escape. I dashed towards it, far too angry to relish in the irony of the fact that Hell had a fire escape. Once reached, I rammed the door open and ran down the stairs, skirting the railing and flying towards the ground.

Once at the bottom, I continued running through the grey morning air, all the way back to 666 Heaven Street. I burst through the doors and booked it towards the executive elevator. Two security guards began to walk towards me as I furiously poked the ‘up’ button.

The lift finally arrived and I leaped inside just as the guards were upon me. I shoved my fingers into the “close door” buttons, watching them slide shut right as the two guards reached for their tazers.

I searched buttons and finally found number 214. I hit the button, and went zoom. I clenched my jaw and bulked up my shoulders, preparing to give Fiona a piece of my mind. When the elevator arrived, I stomped out of it, right past the secretary, and into Fiona’s office.

I burst in, hand raised, ready to shout and scream and all be all sorts of pissed off, but what I saw and heard in that small instance as I burst through the doors silenced my voice and evaporated my anger instantly. Fiona was at her desk, lounging in her chair, and Gabrielle was sitting on the corner of the desk, huge white wings folded at her back. Wait, Gabrielle was an angel?

She had been saying “Alright, fire and brimstone it is. When do you want me to tell the people?” as I burst in on their meeting.

Fiona and Gabrielle looked at me. Fiona raised an eyebrow and turned back to Gabrielle, continuing their conversation.

“It won’t be long now, but you just have to remember that you can’t tell them up until the very end. It has to be the real thing, otherwise your purpose will have been wasted. An apocalypse takes a lot of planning, you know.” She grinned.

Gabrielle nodded and readjusted her wings.
I understood now. Gabrielle….Gabriel. The Archangel Gabriel. Why didn’t they tell me?

The anger I had felt moments earlier came barreling back through my body, tenfold. I had to find out why Fiona deceived me.

“Fiona!” I shouted. “I risked my life for a party invite? A PARTY INVITE?! You made me believe that I was delivering a holy message, or some divine mandate, but no, it was a fucking PARTY INVITE. Why would you do that!?”

“Tell me honestly, Felix, did you have anything better to do?” Fiona asked, un-phased.

I opened my mouth to shout “yes!” but then I thought about it. What else would I have been doing? Getting high and hanging out with Marc? I closed my mouth, defeated but still fuming.

“I want to leave! Let me out of here!” I yelled.

“You obviously didn’t learn your lesson in there,“ Fiona continued. “So you know what? I’m just going to keep you up here until you do. I don’t care if you did what I said, you clearly learned nothing, so I’m just going to keep you in Heaven until you do.”

She spoke with such a calm anger that her words terrified me. I opened my mouth to retort, but Jesus burst in. Fiona rolled her eyes.

“If one more person barges into my office unannounced, I’m going to seal the doors shut.” She mused.

“Fiona, don’t punish Felix!” Jesus pleaded. “He did what you said. It was difficult in there. Polly nearly killed him within the first five minutes, he has a right to be a little angry about that.”

Fiona considered this. “But he still very rudely interrupted my meeting with Gabrielle here and has obviously gained nothing from his experience.”

“Just let the kid go back home. He’s young, maybe he just hasn’t realized what the lesson is yet.” Jesus replied.

“Hmmm.” Fiona considered this for a long while. “Alright. Gabrielle, show him the door.”

Gabrielle hopped off the corner of the desk and walked towards me, but I was already walking towards Jesus. I tackled him in a wordless hug. He’d gone through Hell with me, and I’d left him alone with Kale at the end, and yet he still convinced Fiona to let me go.

Gabrielle tugged at my arm and I released Jesus, turning to Fiona. “Erm.. Thanks.” I mumbled, then turned to leave.

Gabrielle led me out of the office and down the hall to a door in the wall. From what I could tell, if I opened the door and walked out, I’d be falling through the air down the side of the building. Not exactly what I meant when I’d said I wanted to leave.

Gabrielle pressed her palms to the door, then pulled it open, revealing only a pure white light emanating from within. Now, usually, one isn’t supposed to walk into the light if they want to remain alive. I glanced at Gabrielle uneasily.

She leaned in, kissed me quickly on the nose, then shoved me through the door.
I was surrounded by warmth for a second, and then nothing.


Nothingness.




It was a steady beeping that awoke me.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a hospital bed, surrounded by machines, in a stark white room. A doctor rushed in and began fiddling with the machines, speaking in a soothing voice to me.

“Hello Felix, welcome back. You’ve been in a coma for two weeks.” He said. He bent over me to check my IV bag. “You hit your head pretty badly when you ran into the street to save that girl. She didn’t make it, but if it hadn’t been for you, her entire body would have been pulverized under the wheels of that SUV,” he continued.

SUV? Girl?
Right. Car crash. Girl hit by car. My stupid heroism. It all began to fall into place.

“Now, Felix, you should make a full recovery, though you’ll have a few scars. Now, I’m going to call your family and let them know you’re awake. You just wait here.” He stepped out of the room.

So, two weeks in a coma. I’d been in the hospital along, I suppose. No angels, demons, pets, Jesus. Maybe I’d just been pleading for my life all this time, and my damaged brain manifested that as a dream about God. I turned my head and was about to fall asleep when I felt something brush my nose.

I blinked and there it was, resting on my pillow. A white feather.



The End :)

Julia

Huh.

You know that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach when you find out something that you didn't want to know? When you find out that the thing you had sort of known was true but were really hoping wasn't true actually is true. And you hate that you know, because ignorance is bliss when it comes to this sort of thing.

That feeling of... I don't know what... disgust and betrayal and pity and self doubt.
Yeah. I had a rather interesting conversation today and I found out some things and well...




Wsb fucked his ex best friend's girlfriend.









Yesterday.


Huh.
Julia

Hora Mortis Nostrae (pt 6)

Ahhh, life is good. I've got a cute boy in my bed, and in 2 weeks when he leaves, I'll have another cute boy waiting in the wings. Maybe.

See, a few days ago, Wsb and I were cruising around listening to his favorite Arctic Monkeys album, and we ran out of cigarettes. When you're 16, getting cigarettes becomes an art form. I called up several of my 18+ friends and finally, one of them could help me out. We'll call him Mexicanhipsterboy.

So Wsb and I go to meet Mhb in the park to get the pack, and it turns out that Mhb had brought his buddy Almostexsistensialboy along. Since we all had nothing better to do, we ended up hanging out for a few hours. It was pretty fun, aside from having to listen to Aeb spew bullshit about quantum physics and his views of the universe for about 20 minutes straight.

Then, yesterday, I went to hang out with Aeb and Mhb at the same park for a little while, and things became very awkward, because I became the center of a hit-on battle. I guess they both like me a little more than they should and don't realize that I'm basically dating Wsb already. So I sat between them, smoking their menthols, listening to them try to one-up each other for about an hour. Awk, so very awk.

Mhb has had a thing for me for years, and that's never gonna happen. But Aeb is cute and has some potential, and aside from being a philosophical idiot, is fairly interesting. So we'll see where that one goes. As for me, I'm going to hang out with Wsb as much as I can before he leaves, because he's much more interesting and adorable than Mhb and Aeb combined.

Now! Back to the story!
Recap: Felix and Jesus have hit some easier floors to get through, outsmarting three more of Kale's pets. After outwitting Tusk and sacrificing all of his material possessions for the sake of the mission, Felix has finally gained some confidence in his ability to battle the pets.

Part Six

We paused, looking triumphant, though no one could see us. The feelings of overwhelming victory began to fade as I wondered if the last few floors had been just a little too easy. Things were about to become much more serious. I felt dread begin to swell in the pit of my stomach as Jesus and I climbed the staircase.

As the sixth door came into view, I bit down and tightened my jaw. It was this room, and then one more, no giving up now. I could do that, yeah?

I could still do this.
Right?

I turned to Jesus, the question obvious in my gaze. He looked straight into my eyes and answered:
Right.
He pushed open the door.


We stepped into an edible world. I instantly thought of Gene Wilder in Willy Wonka, ready to sing and eat everything in sight. Before us lay a banquet table, absolutely piled high with food. The table itself, along with the plush-looking chairs appeared to be edible as well. Even the tiles on the floored looked tasty, like slabs of molten sugar.

“Ahhhh! How nice of you to join us!” said a loud, booming voice from the head of the table. A large, though not round man sat at the head, arms spread wide in welcome.

“I am Cenny, and I’ve prepared a grand meal for you. Sit down, relax, have something to eat. Let us feast today!” He continued and gestured towards the rows of chairs on either side of the banquet table.

Jesus and I exchanged a cynical glance. No other pet had been so welcoming. We sat down across from one another at the opposite end of the banquet table. I looked at the sumptuous platters and crocks that lay upon the table and realized that none of the food was recognizably familiar, though it all looked fantastic.

There appeared to be dumplings and plates of meat, but I couldn’t tell what sort of meat it was that lay in its own juices before me. I turned to Jesus, pursing my lips. We had been a long way and hadn’t stopped for food nor water the entire way. If we only ate a little bit, we wouldn’t be gluttons, right?

I eyed the full wine glass to the left of my plate. Its deep red contents glinted in the warm glow of the room.

“Don’t wait around, let’s dig in!” Cenny proclaimed. He looked at us expectantly. I shakily picked up my fork and cast my attention towards the platter of meat in front of me. I scooped up a forkful of sinewy, darkish meat and transferred it to my own plate. I looked up and saw Jesus do the same, but with a crock of what looked like liver.

I looked at the pile of stringy flesh on my plate, then at the liver on Jesus’s plate. It looked inviting, even appetizing, despite being obscure. I was an adventurous eater, and I knew that new foods could be absolutely amazing.

I glanced at the liver on Jesus’s plate once more, scrutinizing it. It looked very large, too large to be a chicken, sheep, or cow’s liver. Further scrutiny revealed that the liver was beginning to gray on one end.

Cirrhosis.
Only humans drink enough alcohol to cause cirrhosis.


I wonder if there are fava beans and a nice chianti on the table, too, I thought fleetingly to myself.

I looked back at my plate and my stomach twisted itself into a tight, thoroughly disgusted knot. I had almost taken a mouthful of human muscle strands. I glanced around table and glimpsed gall bladders, cochleae, what appeared to be brain matter tossed with intestines, like a salad, and a bobbing eyeball in one of the wine glasses, which I now assumed were filled with blood.

Jesus had cut himself a bite sized piece of liver and was just about to bring his for to his lips when I shouted at him.

“Stop!! It’s humans. It’s all human flesh! Don’t eat it!” My stomach clenched as I proclaimed aloud the horrific realization I had come to. Jesus narrowed his gaze and stared hard at the piece of liver on his fork, then his eyes widened in horror.

“Oh, won’t you please start eating, I’m so very hungry,” Cenny boomed.
Jesus and I both looked at him in horror. His grin began to widen as his mouth stretched wide, revealing rows of razor-sharp, shark-like teeth. His eyes darkened and he slammed his fists on the table. “I’m HUNGRY!”

He pressed his fists down on the table, pushing himself up, rising slowly from his chair. I realized how large Cenny was, drawing himself up to his full height, he towered above the table.

Jesus and I ran for it. I spotted the exit in the far left of the hall, behind Cenny, who was gnashing his teeth and beginning to drool. We bolted for the door, and Cenny ran after us, long, thick arms reaching for his next meal.

“HUNGRY!” He roared as Jesus barely escaped his grasping hand. Terror rang through me like a splash of freezing water. I felt like prey, like food. I was going to be eaten alive. I couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to be torn limb from limb in the in the jaws of another. Fear wracked my body as my animal instincts began to take over.

We kept running, pushing faster and faster, until we finally reached the exit door, with Cenny closing in fast. I tried to push the door open, but it stuck.


My lungs tightened to a stop.
Oh no, not now, not this, not this! I heaved my entire body against the door, but it wouldn’t budge. I did it again, thrusting out with my palms. Still, nothing. I backed up, feeling Cenny’s ominous shadow beginning to fall over me as he approached, and ran forward, slamming myself into the door.

It wrenched open, and Jesus and I tumbled out and onto the stairwell landing. I looked up and saw nothing but rows and rows of Cenny’s teeth closing down before the door slammed shut behind us, keeping the cannibalistic monster at bay.


Jesus stood up shakily, breathing hard. I stood as well, grasping the hand-rail on the stairs for support. We both stared at the closed door behind us in terror as we caught our breath.

Cenny had been the most monstrous beast we’d yet encountered, even worse than Polly. Polly may have made me bleed, but what she did to me didn’t cause the sheer, primal horror that the possibility of getting eaten alive did. And to think, I’d almost eaten human flesh.

I gagged.

Jesus grasped my shoulder.
“We’ve got to move on. Got your breath back?” He asked. I nodded. We climbed the stairs and looked upon our penultimate door, door number seven. It was the final task before we could see Kale and deliver the message.

We’d outsmarted, outperformed, and outran six of these fearsome little beasties. We could do it again.

As the final battle, I knew that what lay behind this door would be some new terror, some fresh Hell. The most challenging, most mind-fucking task yet.

I glanced at Jesus by my side, smirked, and pushed open the door.
“Bring it on.”


The smell hits me first. The room I have just entered smells like cigarettes, espresso, and the girl that I lost my virginity to. I’d know that cheap perfume anywhere. I step forward onto plush, dark carpet.

The expanse that has unfolded before us is quite luxurious. There is a huge, four poster, double king-sized bed In the center of one wall, with rose petals strewn over the duvet cover and way too many pillows against the headboard. Nestled next to the bed is a bedside table that holds only a bowl full of vibrators. Yes, vibrators, in every size, shape, and color imaginable. In a bowl. Like candy.

Across from the giant bed is a fireplace with a large bearskin rug stretched out in front of it. On the far wall of the room is a large, black X with handcuffs. Next to it, hanging on the wall, is an assortment of whips, switches, chains, clubs, collars, ropes, and hoods.

In a corner, there is a walled-off changing area, presumably for costumes, and in another are an armchair, ottoman, and chaise-lounge.

Lying on the chaise-lounge in black silk wrap-around robe and black stilettos is the most seductive woman that I have ever seen. Her shiny black hair tumbled down over her shoulder, sweeping over perfectly-formed breasts. Though she is covered, her curves and details can be clearly seen, pressed against the glossy black silk.

She raises her heavily-lidded eyes and begins to speak:
“Well, hello there, boys. “ Her voice is like Jenna Jameson’s, but deeper, huskier… sexier. “My name is Molly, and I’d like to show you two a good time.” She smiles coyly and rises.

She walks right past me and up to Jesus, who looks as if he is seriously questioning his sexuality. She gently strokes the back of his neck with one hand while whispering something in his ear, pressing her breasts up on his chest as she speaks. She smiles that coy smile again and grabs his wrist, leading him over to the large X.

Quickly, she handcuffs him to the X, and blindfolds him. She runs her hand down his torso and brushes over his crotch before turning, and simply leaving him there. Now, her gaze is on me, and she’s walking towards the bed.

She sits on the mattress and beckons me. Like the hormonally-controlled idiot man I am, I go. I sit on the mattress. She crawls to me and whispers in my ear “Listen, I’m going to change into something you’ll like. Stay right here, baby, I’ll just be a second.” And she playfully nibbles my earlobe before slinking off the bed and behind the screen in the closed of changing area.

I can see her silhouette outlined clearly in the screen. As she removes the robe and reveals her, cough, perks, I can feel my pulse begin to quicken. She pulls something on, then bends over for a while, then stands again and runs her hands through hair.

Gabrielle steps out from behind the screen in in the laciest black negligee I have ever seen. In the back of my mind, I faintly wonder where Molly went and how Gabrielle got here, but Gabrielle begins to walk towards me and all that I can focus on is the crest of her beautiful, round breasts as they bounce with each step she takes and her hands, one running through her hair, the other caressing her stomach, hips, and eventually toying with the waistline of her black, lacy panties.

She walks straight up to me, still perched on the side of the bed, and gently grabs the back of neck, leaning her face in and kissing me just below my jawline. The kiss sends a tingle down my spine. Her handle travels up into my hair, where it winds itself in as she continues to plant little kisses up and down my neck and along my collar bone.

“Gabrielle…” I whisper, intending to say more, to question this entire ridiculous situation, but trailing off as her other hand traces its way up my inner thigh, stroking the growing bulge in my pants. I sigh, overcome, with the biological part of my brain silencing the logical part, and my thoughts can only process the superficial touches and sensations that Gabrielle is creating.

Suddenly, she pulls off my shirt and pushes me backwards so that I’m lying on the bed. She climbs on top of me, strattling me, and leans down, planting tiny kisses up and down my torso. I try to move my arms to pull her closer to me, but she pins them above my head and begins to work her way down my body again.

I feel her smooth skin press to mine, warm and inviting. As she makes her way south, my eyes roll back with pleasure and I close my eyes, surrendering to her touch and allowing myself to feel everything that she is doing to me.

Gabrielle presses herself down onto me, putting pressure on every sensitive area. I look down and see her unbutton my pants with her teeth. She slides back up my body and looks me deep in the eyes, as if asking me for permission to continue. I stare into her dark, sensuous eyes and think “Yes, oh God, yes.” She strokes my hair, caressing my torso, her hand traveling downward ever so slightly, her deep, dark, smoldering eyes still locked with mine.

A logical thought bursts through the wall of biological intent, and it occurs to me:

Gabrielle’s eyes aren’t dark.
They’re clear grey with golden tinting around the iris.
The woman whose hand is inching towards my cash and prizes is not Gabrielle.

I blink rapidly, and when my eyes finally open, Molly is on top of me, looking about ready to literally fuck me until I die.

I yank her hand out of my pants and shove her off of me, throwing her to the floor. I button my fly, disgusted at what I almost let this demoness do to me. I walk over to Jesus and uncuff him, removing his blindfold.

“Let’s go.” I say darkly. Jesus looks around, taking in the scene. He stops and stares at something over my shoulder. I turn and see Molly crumpled on the ground, a trickle of blood rolling down her forehead. I suppose I threw her off of me much harder than I intended to.

Jesus looks at my shirtless torso, looks at Molly, struggling to get up, and tunrs back to me.

“Felix, you idiot,” he hisses. “You just committed a sin. Wrath. We have got to get out of here before they notice and send us back to the beginning!” My eyes widen in horror as I realize what I have done.

I grab Jesus’s arm and pull him towards the exit. I push open the door and glance behind me. Molly is standing, a single trickle of blood framing the left side of her face. She looks into my eyes with such hatred that my stomach twists. I turn and drag Jesus out the door, leaving Molly to her toys.

In the stairwell, the lights had gone out.
“Shit!” Jesus exclaimed. “They know what you did. Run!” We run like mad up the stairs, but the walls begin to close in on us. Hands and arms sprout from the stairs behind us and grab at our feet.

The building is trying to drag us back to floor one.
“No.” I say through my clenched jaw. I grit my teeth and run, pulling Jesus along. “I have come too far to go back now.”

A hand reaches up rips at the hem of Jesus’s robes. I can see the final door; the door to floor eight. I can see it, just ahead. With one final burst of determination, I lunge at the door and tumble through it, carrying Jesus with me.

We squabble on the floor, trying to untangle our limbs and get our bearings. Suddenly, we hear a deep, threatening voice, and we freeze.

“What the Hell are you doing?”



Next time, the thrilling conclusion :D
Julia

Hippy Hair!

I'll have part 6 of my story up tomorrow, but I'm having some issues working out room #7, so hopefully I'll have a breakthrough with that and then have it up by the end of tomorrow.

Anyway, I am posting to day to show off my platinum locks, which I have left unscathed by the straightening iron. My unkempt mane is fluffy and magnificent. Look!



yeah... I feel like a poodle (in the best way).

see ya tomorrow!
Julia

Hora Mortis Nostrae (pt 5)

Aw shucks, you guys. It's been way longer than I intended between posts..

Update first:
Wsb and I have, I don't know... plateaued. It's like we grew more and more intense, and now, we're just sort of fixtures in each others' lives. It's like we've had an entire relationship in fast-motion over the course of two weeks. Like, a few days ago, we had a really romantic night full of movies and hookah, but he actually got mad at me for the first time yesterday, and the make up sex was.. well... disappointing.

We're not even officially together and I already feel like we're one of those static couples who should just call it quits. It's barely been two weeks!! What is this?? I've never been good at the committed, long term thing, and after practically no time at all, I feel like I'm in the thick of it.

I'm starting to feel insecure again, wondering if it's me, or if he likes other chicks, or if we'll ever be able to get back to how we were at the beginning. I don't want a commitment from him, fuck, I don't need it. But I feel like he feels that he's obligated to give one. I don't want a boyfriend! I want the fling I thought I was having!

If only i could put us back over the line and into casual-land again...
Few and foreign followers, after getting in too deep, how do I pull us back to the surface?


okokok sorry, this must be very odd, charting out the progression of a relationship in blog form. We'll get back to the story now.
And be warned, this chunk of the story is a tad long, I had to cram three tasks in before the final (and most dangerous) two. I hope you like them :)

Recap: Felix and Jesus have just made it through Ian's library, and Felix is beginning to lose motivation. None the less, they continue.

Part Five

Calmly, we proceeded up the stairs in the next stairwell. “Two down, only five more possibly deadly mindfucks to go.” I thought to myself. I sighed wistfully at the thought that we’d only been through two of the seven floors and that I was already beginning to tire of the constant fear and anger.

Jesus grinned up at me as we approached the third door. I stuck my tongue out at him, a low level of disdain simmering in my gut.
He raised an eyebrow at me.
“These aren’t meant to be easy, “ he mused. I offered a small smile in return and turned towards the third door looming before us.

It was a stark, black door with a push bar on it, just like all the others. So simple, and yet I knew that whatever lay behind it would be indescribably complicated and puzzling. I gritted my teeth and pushed it open.

We walked into a darkly lit, living-room-esuqe space with, oh dear God, shag carpet. There were pillows strewn about the floor and blankets piled high in a corner, though the air in the room was warm and heavy, so I don’t think anyone in here would need a blanket. There were couches and bare mattresses arranged in rows across the room and the exit was clearly visible on the opposite side of the comfy-looking expanse.

There was a groaning sound, and a skinny woman lazing on a nearby couch rolled over and glared at us.

“Ugh. I’m Rozaline. Call me Roz, because Rozaline is just way too many syllables. Anyway, the exit’s over there, “ she raised a droopy finger towards the wall. “Just get out so I can sleep.” She smirked and rolled back over.

I shrugged at Jesus and began to walk briskly towards the exit. About ten steps in, I began to slow, and kept slowing until I was literally dragging my feet. I suddenly realized just how exhausted I was, and I glanced at one of the mattresses. I looked very inviting. I noticed Jesus bending slightly at the knees, as though he was sagging from lack of sleep.

We could just take a little power-nap and get back to the mission later. That would be ok, right? Just a lil’ snooze and then we could move on. Or maybe we didn’t have to move on. We could just sleep for a while. We could sleep forever. I wouldn’t mind.

I noticed Jesus inching towards a couch. He had the right idea. He was just about to sit on it when it hit me—Sloth. Laziness. Sleeping when you know you should be doing something. It was a sin. I pulled myself over to him and held him off the couch.

“We can’t stop. Not now. If we do, we’ll be here forever. She might wake up and eat us or something.” We both glanced over at the snoring lump that was Roz, and laughed.

“You’re probably right, “ he remarked, obvious drowsiness in his voice.
I pulled him along the rest of the row, staring longingly at the couches and mattresses, and inch by inch, we made it to the door. I pushed it open and dragged Him and myself out onto the landing.

When the door slammed shut behind us, it was like someone had put an IV of espresso into my forearm. My eyes widened as I blinked away sleepiness and regained focus. Newly motivated by my own personal victory by being the first one to figure out the trick that time, I pulled Jesus up the stairs.

We came upon door number four. I was just about to push it open when I saw the frilly pink bow on push bar. I looked at Jesus, he was obviously thinking the same thing that I was: Really?

I opened the door, and a new kind of Hell spilled out.

The smell hit me first. Acetone and fancy shampoo and strong perfume all at once, it hit me like a whirlwind. Once my sinuses regained consciousness, I was able to process the sight of what lay before us. It was a beauty parlor.

Directly in front of us, there was a little reception desk with a bouquet sitting on the corner. Along one wall were about five haircutting stations, a few sinks, and shelves upon shelves of hairstyling tools and products. Along the other wall were manicure tables, shelves of nail lacquer, and massive mirrors. Waltzing up the center of the room was the most fabulously-dressed man I have ever seen.

Upon his shoulders was a feather boa, playfully tossed over a pastel prep Lacoste outfit and Armani shoes.

He laughed gaily, chucked the feather boa away theatrically, and struck a pose. Jesus gawked and I snorted. The man’s head snapped towards us and he released himself from his pose, addressing us.

“Um, hello, that my big entrance!” He smarmed with a very effeminate, whiny voice. This guy appeared to be the basis of every gay stereotype imaginable. Except lisping; he didn’t lisp.

Jesus continued gawking in stunned silence, so the man continued.
“I’m Fillipé, and I am going to make you two look fabulous! Ahaha, welcome to my salon!” He smiled, revealing unnaturally white rows of perfect teeth. He ran over and grabbed Jesus by the wrist, plunking him down in a chair by the barbers’ sinks. He turned on the water and began to rinse Jesus’s hair, grinning maniacally.

“Oh my, you have some of the longest, scraggliest hippy hair I have ever seen! We’re definitely going to have to fix that, honey.” He then looked up at me, giving me a disapproving up-and-down. “You’re next sweetie, you’re in desperate need of lowlights.”

“Uh, ok.. well, we’re kind of in a hurry, so if you could just—“ I stammered. I wasn’t used to anyone caring about my appearance, let alone me. Fillipé cut me off mid-sentence by turning to Jesus and saying “So, tell me about yourself.”
“I uh, I do peace work. I preached in ancient Rome for a while, then got martyred, Had a minor debacle with resurrection, and well.. Had a religion based on my life. But now, mostly, I just work for Fiona.” Jesus answered awkwardly.

Fillipé looked fascinated. “Sounds veeeeery interesting! Well, sounds like you’re very important. Why are you going on coffee runs for someone like Fiona when you could be parading around, being waited on by people who’d gladly do so for nothing in return?”
Jesus looked thoughtful for a bit, as though he’d never considered the idea.

“ I mean, you’ve done plenty, even got martyred, and Fiona’s got you running errands like a little intern. You’ve moved entire nations with your work, you should be proud of your accomplishments.” Fillipé continued. “And to think that you’re working for Fiona, who’s so into her whole ‘God’ thing that she doesn’t appreciate the work done by anyone else, honestly, sweetie, you’re just too good for this sort of thing.”

Jesus nodded vaguely. “You know, “ he said. “You’re right. Fiona doesn’t appreciate anything I do. I mean, she talks more to Gabrielle than she does to me, and I’ve done sooo much more! I’m the one with my own religious following, not Gabrielle! I’m the one who died on a cross. I’m the better messenger!”

Jesus was beginning to sound very pompous.
“I shouldn’t be doing this sort of thing. I should be getting waited on like this.” He continued, embarking on the ego trip of the century. “ I’m way too talented and way too famous for these divine missions. I should just walk back down and tell Fiona to go find herself a new messenger, because I deserve better!” He said.

“Wait!!” I piped up. “Fiona knew this was a really important mission, that’s why she sent us!” Suddenly I realized that Jesus might desert me because of his own sick pride. “And Gabrielle’s not that cool.” I added for good measure.

Jesus rolled his eyes. “Uh huh, and that’s why Gabrielle is probably sitting on Fiona’s lap right now, relaxing and talking about relevant things, and I’m stuck in Hell.”

“No, Fiona knew Gabrielle wouldn’t be able to handle something like this, that’s why she chose you to accompany me! You’re the one she trusts, Jesus.” I retorted, trying to make some sort of breakthrough. “We have to finish this. Maybe if we finish this, Fiona will realize more about you, but she won’t get the chance if you… If you betray her.” I finished with a slightly frightened tone to my words.

Jesus sat up and looked at me. “You know, “ he said to Fillipé. “Felix is right. We’ve got to get going. I don’t have time for a haircut right now.”

“But I was just getting started!” Fillipé exclaimed. “If you look gorgeous, Fiona will be sure to appreciate you more!” Fillipé tried to convince Jesus to stay, but it was too late, Jesus was already standing up and trying to get back over to where I was standing.

Fillipé grabbed at him. “No! Stay! Be pretty with me!” He snarled. Jesus ignored him and walked to me. He was about to say something when a nail file whizzed past his ear. We both turned and saw Fillipé standing by a manicure table, ready to fling a bottle of purple lacquer. “Stay, damn it!” He screamed and threw the bottle.

Jesus and I shared a momentary glance, then ran for the door, avoiding the hail of flying manicure tools that was being sprayed by Fillipé. We rammed the door open and made it out of the salon just before a bottle of yellow lacquer smashed above our heads, golden contents dribbling down the door and onto the push bar. We hastily stepped out and the door swung shut behind us. We looked at each other, then booked it up the stairs and away from the angry queen.

We slowed to a stroll as we came upon the fifth door. I realized that now we were over half way up the building. The end was actually plausible, though not in sight yet, and Jesus and I might actually survive this. Suddenly, an odd thought struck me:

“Jesus, are we getting paid? Like, well... maybe not paid, but do we get anything out of this? Is Fiona going to reciprocate us for any of this in the least?”
He stopped and his brow furrowed. He thought about my questions for a second, then turn to me and looked earnestly into to my eyes.

“Yes and no. Fiona isn’t going to shell out megabucks, and she isn’t going to rewrite your destiny. But she’ll do you favors when you least expect it, and when you really need it. Technically, she doesn’t have to do anything or give anything to us. She’s God. But, most likely, someday, we’ll get something in return, even if we don’t realize it.” He shrugged.

I shook the nasty thoughts out of my head and turned to Jesus.
“Shall we?” I gestured grandly towards the door.
“We shall!” He laughed as he pushed it open, and I followed him inside.

What lay before us looked very plush and professional. It appeared to be a bank, or at least, part of one. Everything was deep red and deep green and mahogany. There were several nooks with tiny, fancy tables in them, and the nooks could be curtained off for privacy. I turned slightly and noticed the rows and rows of secure metal boxes on the wall. It appeared that we were in the same room as every safety deposit box on Earth.

A clean-cut man with shiny black hair in a business suit stepped out from inside one of the curtained nooks. He began to stroll towards us, his icy blue glare affixed to my eyes.

“Hello there, welcome, my name is Tusk and I’m in charge of your life’s savings, finances, and most prized possessions. Mr. Christ, we’ve already been through this process, so I’d appreciate if you’d just wait over there,” the man motioned to a dark green leather chair in the corner. “And if you’d stay silent.” Tusk’s voice sharpened at the word ‘silent’ and the icy glare left my face and stuck on Jesus’s for a few seconds.

Jesus looked apologetically at me, and slunk over to the leather armchair. Tusk motioned briskly to a curtained nook, and I followed him in and sat down at the table. He turned on his heel and swiftly marched across the room to the wall of safety deposit boxes. After a few moments, he returned, carrying a stark, grey, metal box, which he gently set on the table before me.

I was very confused. At our bank, I didn’t have my own safety deposit box, it was registered to my parents. And to make matters weirder, I’d seen the family deposit box, and it was army green, not grey. I looked up at Tusk in confusion.

“Mr. Donovan… Felix right? May I call you Felix?“ He didn’t wait for me to reply, but continued. “Felix, every single, scrawny, disgusting human on Earth accumulates possessions, even starving children in third-world countries, and I catalogue and collect these possessions after they die. Now, I usually keep these items, but since you’re on your way up to see my father, you get a chance to reclaim one of them.” He grinned, baring his white, razor-like teeth at me in a sign of intimidation, not encouragement, like his words suggested.

“I have condensed every single one of your most significant possessions into liquid form. The way this works is that you drink the one possession you simply can’t bare to part with, and I get to keep the rest, pets included. Take all the time you need, and drink only one thing. I’ll be just outside.” He stepped back, and stood patiently outside the curtain.

I looked at the box, and noticed a simple latch on the end. When I opened the lid, a plethora of tiny bottles in neat rows stood inside. I picked one up and held it up to the light. There was a small label with tight black lettering on the side. I squinted and read: Letterman’s Jacket, Dowry High School, Varsity Track and Field, 2008. My favorite jacket, the jacket I wore every day of freshman and sophomore years because I had been one of three freshman track runners to letter, was inside this tiny bottle. I set the bottle down out side of the box and reached in for another.

Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon album, on vinyl. The record that I lost my virginity to, and had later had sex to both sides of, was in this bottle. God, I loved that record. I set the bottle next to the one with my letter jacket inside.

After a few more bottles (Cat: Kashmir, Author-signed Copy of ‘Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows’, Childhood Blanket, iPod Touch, First Pair of Doc Martens Combat Boots, and Original Bootleg Recording of Janis Joplin’s ‘Summertime’) I realized that I wasn’t going to be able to choose. I closed my eyes, and reached for a bottle.

It was Harry Potter. I uncorked the tiny stopper and brought the miniscule vessel to my lips, and was just about to throw it back like a shot of tequila when Tusk stepped back into the nook. I stopped and looked at him, his grinning face overcome with glee. His gaze urged me on, and that’s when I realized something and set the bottle down.

“You know, I don’t need any of this stuff. I really don’t, in fact, just take them.” I shoved the box of bottles across the table. “I’m not taking anything.”

His grin evaporated. I stood up and calmly walked out of the nook. Jesus was snoozing in the armchair. I said “Hey! Let’s go.” And he jerked awake, and drearily sidled up beside me. We both turned and headed for the exit when Tusk piped up.

“You sure? You’re making a huge mistake you know! At least this way you won’t have to leave here empty handed!!” He began to cackle as we reached the door. I turned and looked over my shoulder as I walked out.

“I’d rather be empty handed than dead.” In all honesty, it wasn’t the wittiest, most scathing remark, but the door slammed behind me, so it would have to do.

Hora Mortis Nostrae (pt 4)

I've decided to simply start every story post with a little update , because I can't put my life on hold for the story. I mean, this blog is more for life documentation than for literary explosions, so I guess right now it'll just have to handle both.

Nothing's really changed with Wsb, although due to my busy work schedule, I'll be seeing much less of him this week. It's so crazy to think that I haven't even known him for an entire week, and yet I've learned about his soul, and he's learned about mine. And let it be stated for the record that I have had more sex in the past 3 days than in all the other days of summer combined. Good lord, I don't know how he does it.

God, why did you put this boy in my path? What are you trying to get me to learn here? And why did you have to make him smell so good?


Anyway! Back to the story, yes?

Recap: Felix and Jesus have been sent on a divine mission to deliver a message to the top of the Hell building. In order to get to the top, they have to make their way through the first seven floors, battling Kale's pets. Immediately after entering floor one, Felix has already been attacked by the first pet: Polly.


Part Four


She holds the eye contact for an agonizing second then begins to look around the rest of my face, searching for another ring or stud. The girl is toying with me, playing with her food. I look into her empty eyes again, searching for any sliver of compassion. I can’t see any. All I see is black and it’s disgusting.

I feel her fingers brush against my jaw. Oh God, she’s found it. That last piercing, that stupid fucking piercing. She caresses my bottom lip with her finger, giggling maniacally. Her fingers press down on my lip ring, turning it from side to side. Her touch is so gentle and so fearsome. She raises the pliers so close to my mouth that I can almost taste the rusty metal.

I feel the tugging and twisting again as she begins to inflict her wrath upon my last piercing. It’s so light at first, barely even noticeable. Then it turns harder, and I can feel the twisting and my skin starting to stretch. But it’s only when she pulls outward, still not far enough, that I let out an animal-like cry. She’s pulling and twisting, pulling and twisting, so close to it being far enough to tear away, but not quite crossing the threshold.

She continues twisting, bringing her grasp down to just a gentle touch again. Is she going to spare this last piercing? Is she taking pity on m—

I scream loudly when she rips out the lip ring. I can taste my blood gushing from the tear. Half of my face is now covered in blood. My shirt is stained from the shoulder to the bottom of my ribcage on one side. I can feel hot blood adhering my shirt to my body. It hurts. Oh God, it hurts.

She draws her face up to mine, barely two inches away. Her disgusting, glossy black pupils meet my own. “And now you get to witness a crucifixion, little boy.”

Jesus’s eyes widen. As she turns and slowly walks towards him, the metal bar covering his mouth loosens and disappears. “I want to hear you scream, savior,” Polly sighs, almost seductively. Jesus’s eyes narrow and he says simply, “Fiona’s got a message.”

Polly stops, stares him straight in the face, and then catches fire. Her entire body just burst into flames, her face curling up like paper when it’s burned. The flames roar for just a second, and then they disappear in a wisp of smoke, taking Polly with them.

The metal bars fall away from Jesus and he rushes over to me, still crumpled on the dentist’s chair. “Felix, can you walk?” he says gently. I realize how terrible I must look, all covered in blood. I nod, and Jesus pulls out a bottle of Aquafina from inside his robes. I offer a tiny, bemused smile and glance at the bottle of water.

“What, your Lord and Savior has to drink only biblical church wine?” He grins. “Hell no, I like my purified spring water, thank you very much.” He starts pour the water over my head to wash off the blood. I suppose it’s the ultimate baptism.

When Jesus has decided I look presentable enough, we continue through the doors that lie on the opposite side of the room. We end up in a tight staircase, and go up until we find another door. Jesus is about to push it open, but I stop him.

“I don’t know if I can do this. I didn’t sign up for torture! She was only the first out of how many was it, seven? That was level one. I don’t think I can take much more of this.” I’m beginning to sound hysterical.

Jesus looks me dead in the eye. “You got through that, that’s enough. Polly’s duty is eliminate liabilities so that her brothers and sisters don’t have to deal with as many people. She’s a sadistic, terrifying little creature, but as soon as she realized who sent us, she gave up. That was the fire thing. She’s probably upstairs telling Kale we’re here.” He said bracingly. “But I know you can do this. Gabrielle wouldn’t have brought you back if you couldn’t.”

I sigh, defeated, motion for him to open the door, which he does.

We are in a giant library, full to bursting with books. Where they can’t fit on the shelves, they’re piled high on tables, chairs, even random spots on the floor. A strapping young man, around age 20, steps out from behind a bookshelf. He looks like he’s from 19th century England. Jesus smiles at him, but he just scowls. We begin to walk forward, I expect him to jump in front of us and like whack me with a big book, but he just looks at us go.

Negotiating our way through the giant piles of books begins to get confusing. It seems as if we’ve half an hour already just trying to find our way out of the bookshelves, but it’s like those corn-mazes I went to as a kid. I’m beginning to get frustrated. Although we’ve been walking for a while it’s like we’ve only gone five feet forward, maybe.

I can still see the British guy leaning against a shelf, a smirk beginning to paint his lips. He knows something.

“Hey, what the hell is this?” I call out to him. That smirk falls off his face, but he stays quiet. It’s obvious this guy knows the way out but he won’t tell me. I can feel jealousy building inside me.
“Stop it, Felix.” Jesus says suddenly.
“Stop what, this guy is pissing me off.” I retort. Jesus turns to face me and looks straight into my eyes.
“Don’t get angry or be jealous of this guy. I forgot to tell you the most important part of this. If you commit any of the seven sins, we’re back to square one, outside on the bottom level. That’d mean we’d have to try to get past Polly again, and you don’t want that. So keep your emotions in check. Basically, you can feel sinful, but if you act upon any sinful thoughts, we’re out. It’s only the seven we have to worry about, but still, watch yourself.”

Fantastic. I look up to see the British guy still leaning on that shelf, shining his nails on his lapel.
Finally he looks up at us to realize that we’re staring at him this time. He sighs absentmindedly, and then begins to speak:
“Welcome to my library.”

He doesn’t speak with any accent, and there’s this odd undertone to his voice; a sort of unsaid want in every word.
“I am Ian, and this is my playground, a labyrinth of education and recorded catalogs. Every book ever published is in here, including every single scroll of papyrus from the library at Alexandria. But this library also contains the story of every person worthy of having one. The books of your pathetic lives are in here. In order to leave, you have to find your book and write in what happens next. I could tell you about my extensive knowledge of navigation within this library, but I won’t.“ he smirked. “You have all the time in the world, you just have to not go crazy.”

I turned to Jesus. I knew exactly what the book of his life would be. I instantly began to search, but I could find no pattern in the organization of the books in this dmaned library. There seemed to be books flung anywhere, without any rhyme or reason.
After about half an hour of looking, I saw it.

I grabbed Jesus’s and pulled him towards a table. There was a bible lying open on it. I held it up and grinned. “I found your book.”

He looked at the bible and scowled. “I hate that book, it is definitely not the book of my life.” He said. “My book would have the real stuff in it, like how I was crucified not because of my beliefs, but because of my sexuality. It would say how I was betrayed by my lover kissing me, and not simply by my friend.”

“….Oh.” I breathe. That makes sense, when you get to be a glorified as Jesus was, then people began to twist the facts around. I guess the four big gospels really screwed with his image, especially John’s.

“Let’s look for your book, “ He pipes up. “Yours is probably going to be a little easier to find than mine, and we only have to write in one of them. “

After a few more minutes of looking, I found my book. It was red leather, hard back, with gold lettering on the cover. The title (apparently my life has a title) was ‘Hora Mortis Nostrae: The Felix Donovan Story’ Huh. ‘The Hour of Our Death’ in Latin. It’s the last line of the Ave Maria. Ironic.

I opened it and flipped through the pages, looking for the last one. I didn’t even look at the writing, I just grabbed a quil pen from a nearby desk and started writing.

“Felix and Jesus quickly find Jesus’s real book, and then find the exit. And the British guy keeps his distance.” I dotted the ‘I’ in distance with a flourish, then set the quil down and closed the book.

As I looked up, I spotted a dusty black volume at the bottom of a pile of books on the floor. On the spine, in faded letters, it read “Don Anobis Pachem”.
“Give Us Peace”

I knew instantly that that was Jesus’s book. I grabbed it, knocking the whole stack over. I turned to Jesus, who was preoccupied with trying to find Judy Garland’s book. “Hey,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.” I held out the book.

Jesus’s gaze fell to the cover, and realizing what it was, his eyes began to fill with with tears. He looked up at me as I imagine countless people had once looked up at him and choked out a quiet “thank you” before taking the book and hiding it in his robes.

We climbed over a mountain of novels and Ah! At last, we found the exit. Right as we were about to leave, I turned and glanced behind us, only to see the Ian lurking behind a shelf, glaring at us. Envy spilled out of his gaze. I almost felt sorry as we closed the door behind us.



Continued soon,
Julia