My new suit.
He screamed as I tore at him with my fingers, his body lay immobile in a broken heap upon the frozen concrete. We were no where, the wind carried his screams across the blistered landscape — I knew that no ears but our own would catch the cry. This face would do nicely, I thought to myself; it was young, virile, full of life and potential. The kind of face that people take pictures of, the kind of face that gets gently caressed by a lover in full light; this was the face that would get me what I wanted. His blood ran in rivulets between the gravel-strewn cement, it was beautiful. His essence slowly seeping from some places, running freely from others, it was as though it wanted to escape from its housing.
You’ve sprung a leak, I said to him quietly. His only response was to scream again, but the strength of it was diminished, he was fading. I pushed my fingertips into his flesh once again, pulling back on the skin, feeling the ligaments tear and the sponginess of his muscles lubricated beautifully upon my fingers; I was a masseuse and caregiver, slowly peeling away his skin so it could be my own, so it could have a new life. A better life. These words came to me as another scream petered out of his now bloody mouth, oh those lips, covered in blood they looked made-up as though he were a lipstick model, so bright and cherry red. His eyes opened to an impossible degree as my fingers reached below his chin, almost pleadingly. A moment of pity surged through me, he hadn’t asked for this, I could see them searching for an answer. Pausing for a moment I gently slid my finger along his cheek, leaving a bright streak of life upon its ashen countenance. There is no other way, I started to tell him, this face is old, you can see that can’t you? It is withered and decaying, it will no longer do. I must have a new one and with yours, well, I paused for a moment to once again look at this beautiful specimen. With yours I can do great things.
With this I reached under his chin once again and pushed inward, there was a moment of resistance as his skin stretched inward, refusing to break. His scream was caught in his throat as I leaned into my hands and I felt the resistance cease. Pulling delicately I began to disentangle his skin from the muscles and bone. Finally finishing I stood up and looked once again at my new body. It was muscular, tall and elegant. A crop of black hair stood above well defined eyebrows. A thin nose stood above elegant, rich lips. It was perfect.
Reaching down to touch it once again I began to whisper the words I alone knew, the wind around me rushed to an even greater fervor as my own excitement grew. The blood upon the ground, so recently excised was picked up and began to swirl around me, creating a cyclone of pink; and I chanted further. The skin, so stretched and torn by my thick fingers began to reshape itself. It rose in front of me like a suit or mannequin, standing straight and tall. Beautiful, I thought as the words poured forth from my mouth, inaudible in this vortex of life. I closed my eyes and spoke further, the words became musical, songlike, and I could see without eyes. Floating above this scene I saw my own body slouch, slump, and finally fall face down. It shuddered to a halt and, as it did, I could see the body-suit below begin to twitch and shake as though seized by a fit. The final words of the incantation came quietly out of the bloodless lips, my bloodless lips, and once again I could see nothing.
Opening my eyes I saw a barren stretch of asphalt, the wind had stopped and below me lay an old man. I reached down to touch him and felt the warmth of his flesh, so recently expired he lay quietly, looking like a piece of luggage accidentally left behind, dropped by a distracted man or woman and just as easily forgotten as a dream. My hands were clean and strong, I tested them by gripping the body below me; he seemed almost weightless to my youthful strength and I lifted him by the arms and held him aloft, staring at the strange familiarity of it. It was like looking in a mirror, only the self you see is one you haven’t seen in a long time; a nightmare self that is decaying and decrepit. Yes, I thought, this one will do nicely, and I let my old self go, it fell awkwardly, the same way a piece of clothing falls to the floor in a heap.
