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
"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