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Dec. 19, 2006 She sat there in a plastic chair, looking out at the night, a spider-handed women, because her fingers were so long, and were akin to alien fingers, and she did seem alien insomuch that she was detached and utterly anchored in some deep inner sea of calm. Maybe she was evil, and a modern day witch, or a self-stylized gypsy, with her hands covered in shining silver rings, rings to ward off the evil eye, or rings to help perpetuate such an eye, by catching some unsuspecting victim’s attention. There were what seemed acres of black hair. Raven black hair, thick and big and a bit wild, and she was thin, and smoking with her right hand, and picking at the back of her hair, surveying it a bit, reaching around, with the other, the left hand. He never saw her face straight on, and didn’t bother in any way to try. Her legs were crossed, and she wore blue jeans, but everything else was black, and he saw the eye from the side, and this was black too, and he thought how much of her seemed like an insect, a refined insect, with grace and power. The world was big, and the insect female with her extra long fingers could have been from anywhere. Was she vaguely South American, or something else? Who was she? What was she? How was it that she was so calm, sitting in the night, in a world called earth, full of violent history and ugliness? Her right foot swayed back and forth a bit. She holds up her hands to look at them, with the palms facing outwards. She could be a movie star, but is not a movie star. Nobody is really a movie star. She could be profound, he thought, but nobody is really profound. She could be a good hooker if she wanted to, he thought, but nobody is really a hooker. She moved her fingers around a bit. Spider-like. She could be a spider, but nobody is really a spider. She was still then, even when possessed of a little movement. She could be a preying mantis, he thought. Overhead there were a million lights in the skies. Around and about cricket song sang in the air. Spider lady was deep in thought, perhaps thinking about sucking someone’s blood. She’d make a good vampire, he thought, but nobody is a vampire. It was strange, the sights he saw in the world. The sights weren’t strange really, but he intuited them that way. He thought about something then. Once there was a time when the elevators weren’t working in a hospital. He helped a nice man get to the floor he was going to. Before they left from the lobby to the stairway, the nice man, who was a schizophrenic, looked at the lobby full of people and said, - Many strange people about. And in response, so as not to alarm the man, who was paranoid, he said, - Oh, yes, its crowded, with lots of people, but there is nothing to worry about. People just going to where they need to go. Some trying to get a bite to eat at the snack bar. But he knew how the man felt, though he didn’t let on. He too felt there were many strange people about, and though the people were not sinister, or anything other than what they appeared to be, for the most part, it was all-strange. He worried about that. He thought about the spider finger one, just a girl of about twenty, sitting in a chair, smoking a cigarette. Or maybe not. One could never know, not for absolute certain. Maybe there were things about herself that she didn’t know. Maybe one day she would suck blood, or steal a soul, or curse a village. ------------ Email Brian Michael Barbeito: Brian1750@Hotmail.com Comment on this article here! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com and are not allowed to be posted on other websites. ARTICLE THIEVES WILL BE PROSECUTED! |
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