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"The Pattern"
By: Anatomically Incorrect Girl
Site: Ambiguous Kelp

"It does matter!" shouted Sara indignantly. 
"It does matter what we do." 
She jumped up off of the couch where she sat.

"How does it matter?" Angie asked, calmly 
reasoned, coaxing her back down into a 
sitting position. The two girls were sitting 
in Angie's living room. Angie sat opposite of 
Sara in an arm chair with a mahogany coffee 
table between them on which rested a 
partially drunken bottle of vodka and a 
bottle of coke, that they were mixing it 

"It matters to people." Sara answered 

"So what if it matters to people. How does 
mattering to them matter? Think." Angie 

"Because that's all there is." Answered the 
younger girl with the kind of sureness that 
only alcohol can give.  

"What are you?" Sara was thrown. 

"A person." she said after a moment.  

"Yes, but what makes you a person... what 
makes you different from everybody else." 


"Right. A little code. A biological 
coding. Little chemical messages. 
Electrons. You are a pattern." 

"I suppose." acknowledged Sara, as she 
lost ground.  

"The same codes make up everyone... 
everything. If you had a different pattern 
you'd be a rock." 

Sara squirmed but couldn't deny. 

"Everything you feel is just a little 
electrical impulse. It's not real. It's a 
pattern. Like a binary code. Blip, blip. 
Blip, blip. Off, on. Off, on. We might as 
well be dead. It would just be the same 
little chemicals sending different 

Angie watched as this idea sunk into to 
the drunken 12 year-old. Angie watched as 
the little girl questioned her beliefs and 
found emptiness inside.  

"Then why are we alive." 

"A miraculous coincidence. The right 
chemicals got thrown in together to create 
"life." Life is the same as death though. 
Just a different pattern. It doesn't 
really matter. Not in the scheme of 
things. Everything is just a meaningless 

"It is." Sara slowly filled with 
revelation. "It makes sense." 

Angie smiled. Her work was done. 
"You're the same as everything else. There 
is no hierchy." 

Sara looked up, pained and trembling, into 
her friends eyes, searching desperately for 
any indication that it was a lie. She found 
nothing but a reflection of her own 
emptyness and then found liberation in 
hopelessness. She stood up, with a crazed 
grin on her face, and threw the bottle of 
vodka into the wall, and watched as the 
glass and liquid exploded into a crystal 

"It really doesn't matter!" She screamed 
with her new freedom. She had nothing left 
to loose. Letting everything go, Sara 
jumped over the coffee table and then onto 
Angie, hitting her once hard in the face. 
Sara remained straddling Angie panting with 
a huge grin on her face, exhausted form the 
rush of adrenaline the exlosion of violence 
had given her. Angie smiled back at her, as 
she caught her breath, and the two girls sat 
there just grinning for an eternity of 

The eternity ended as Angie's grin faded 
into a dark snear and she unexpectedly shot 
out and grabbed Sara's arm with incredible 
force. A look of terror entered the girl's 
eyes, as her capture fished a pocket knife 
from her jeans. The child struggled fiercely 
as the first cut was made into her inner arm 
and she screamed as the knife dragged 
through her skin into a circle and the blood 
slowly rose into the trench.  

"What are you doing?!" she shrieked with 

"So you can remember." hissed Angie. "You 
wont remember what you really are otherwise. 
Relax. Enjoy the pain." 

Sara's eyes were filled her fright, but she 
bit her lip as Angie carved a series of 
jagged marks around the circle. She felt the 
sharp pain, shooting through her arm, making 
her shake even more then she was already. 
Slowly, she became light-headed, and the 
acute pain dulled into something beyond pain. 
Something beautiful. Angie finished with a 
triumphant smile and cocked her head 
thoughtfully so as to better admire her work. 
Blood completely covered the etchings on 
Sara's arm, dark red in the cuts, and bright 
across her unmarked arm. Sara grinned 
dizzily, in a strange form of ecstasy as 
Angie bent down to lick the blood from the 
cuts. She tasted the sweet irony tang and the 
thick consistency. She felt her heart race 
and the adrenaline made her head spin as she 
sucked hard at the open wounds, drawing blood 
from beyond the surface. It was addictive. 
The rush, the power of drinking the life of 
another human being. Angie drank. She felt 
the rhythm with which the blood flowed into 
her mouth and felt the rhythm give. She felt 
the body go limp and she felt strong. She 
had changed the pattern. But it didn't 
really matter. Sara was much the same in 
death as she was in life. It was just 
different chemicals and a different pattern.

(c)opyright 2001 by Anatomically Incorrect Girl