City of Delusion

October 11, 2011
By Michalaandchels BRONZE, Enfield, Connecticut
Michalaandchels BRONZE, Enfield, Connecticut
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

There was chaos in the street below the large plate glass window. People were running and screaming, tripping over bodies and collapsed buildings, trying to evade the flames.

I turned away. “Why?” I asked more out of general curiosity than concern.
The room turned dark as smoke blotted out the blue sky like a charcoal pencil against paper.

Kyle, who was still facing the city, sighed.
“You,” he began, “of all people, should understand. People are corrupt, can you honestly say they deserved better?”

I turned back to the street to see the smouldering remains of my city-no, not just my city, every city. The pavement was painted crimson and it was eerily quiet for down town Manhattan.

“We can start over now,” Kyle whispered, “There are enough of us, you know.”
“To do what exactly?” I asked, my voice sounding very far away.
“To make a world our own,” his eyes glinted in excitement, “Imagine it Marisol, imagine not having to hide who you are. What you are. Imagine.”

I closed my eyes and imagined, a city full of faeries. A city where nobody had to pretend that they were human, nobody had to hide their true nature.

A city crawling with black magic and the rotting flesh of the mortal immortals.
I blanched. “Kyle,” I paused, looking out over the destruction he'd caused just for me.
He turned towards me expectantly.
“Kyle,” I said again, walking to him
“Yes, dear?”
I placed my hand over his still heart, feeling his rubbery flesh beneath my fingertips.
“Kyle,” I whispered, and my fingernails shot through his skin into his rib cage. I twisted my hand and yanked upwards.

He gagged and a viscous, ebony liquid spewed from his mouth and his eyes.
“Say 'Hi' to William for me,” I whispered in a barely audible, yet strangely strong voice.

I pulled my hand out of his chest, up to my wrist was just a charred bone, and he sank to the floor. His face sagged into the brown shaggy carpet before all the air seemed to leave his body, leaving a deflated Kyle-balloon.
I turned to the window and smashed through the glass with my skeleton hand. The shards fell away and I jumped lightly into the streets below.

I looked once more to the tower where I'd left my once-lover dead in his office, and walked at a leisurely pace through the gruesome streets that looked like they'd been the venue for a horror movie scene.

The sun was setting over this city of delusion, blazing through anything left alive. Except for me, because I wasn't technically alive to begin with.

The author's comments:
I wrote this piece while listening to Muse's "City of Delusion" I hope that those who read it will come to understand
that the love of power is dangerous.

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