Uploaded Fairy [ Editing ]
It was a few months since I lost Anna-Marie.
After she died I heard about a Guillotine gun street gang. They were the most feared gang in from NashChat to Seatak, traversing across the country at the speed of an electronic train; they could ride the coat tails of corporate men, and slash the throats of ladies held for ransom. They killed close to ten thousand women, the trail of severed heads paving the road like new marbled floor.
And yet the time I met them, they didn't seem to pay any particular attention to me at all. They didn't seem to care about the fact that I knew they were after a particular artifact from the old era of the US. I was minding my own business, trying merely to live my life, as I'd never been one for gun fights. After all in my opinion gun fights were things macho people did to prove their worth. But when you get to where I'm at, you're just trying to live your life as a writer, jotting down personal journals about your experience across what the Japanese called the west--the United States as a whole. So I didn't think I'd ever been in the situation where I'd even consider saving someone's life. That was until I saw the Rattle Snake Insignia.
The thing about Rattle Snakes, is they were like spiders to me. They could pop in and out of existence at their leisure. At night I would have dreams of giant spiders and rattle snakes attempting to bite me while I traversed the wild woods of the mind, scattering sanity like shattered glass. But I wondered what Anna-Marie would have wanted, certainly there was something in her eyes that trusted me like nobody else ever had before. I wanted some way to return that favor, even if I didn't like the French girl that I was going to save and--at the time was entirely uncertain whether I'd guillotine gun her myself. After all a kink for decapitation was part of my human nature, as natural to me as for you you might consider breathing.
And there was something in those eyes that softened my soul, and made me realized all my personal issues from that point. There is something about looking straight into someone's face, and finding despite unconditional love they find in your eyes someone they fear greatly, and through their own trust issues have a look of total betrayal. And they continued to love you despite your faults. My first girlfriend Dog had this trait, and to some degree also Anna-Marie. With Anna-Marie it was even more special, because I finally managed to succeed at something I never thought I could before she died, as she gradually came to trust me.
I saved her from killing herself.
And that makes all the difference when you hate yourself. Therefore I needed to find a way to tempt the gang when they came to my town. I didn't want to save whatever girl they captured, as that simply wasn't my thing. But I was willing to allow that to happen if the gang were more tempted to decapitate me, so that perhaps I could be with my Anna-Marie.
If not for her than for Anna-Marie.
"Go on, save yourself. Don't worry about me." I said to the dark brunette, likely of French immigrant origin.
As she ran her bare feet glistened in the sun like manicured hands, her heels forming the shape of hairless puff balls in the wind as they bobbed up and down in her Jesus sandals. I found that my lady junk was beginning to become a lot wetter. I managed to attract the attention of the gang, and they managed to get the loop around my own neck.
Then a bullet was fired. An actual bullet. Not a flying guillotine blade, not shrapnel. But the actual old time bullets left over from before the French take over, before they outlawed gun altogether in French controlled regions. I'm surprised the French did not take over the inter webs, but I suppose that wasn't their thing. I may be cyber sexual, but I am romantic--almost to a fault.
A second shot was fired.
Everyone else besides her ran.
"Nice to meet you, Francisca is the name." the cute girl said. Evidently she was less reluctant to save me than me to her, I hate it when I owe others my life. But I suppose that's how it goes.
"Why didn't you let me die."
"I couldn't resist the mix of joy and sadness."