Bleed White

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"Shit." he cursed, raising his foot from the puddle of mud, his steps never lingering, not even for a moment. An aim, a need that necessitated filling was rooted deep inside his mind, the rotten flower blooming, treacherous, immune to the blood that spilled forth from his organs. Drop by drop, the needles started pouring from the sky, distant here, a translucent curtain there, almost bullets. Damned weather. It spited him, but really, what didn't, in all truth? A malicious boy revolted by the world. Eyes traced pavement, and sound and color and smells seemed to sprout all of the sudden out of that simple action. Urban nothing underneath the cement sky stripped itself with neon green and the blinding flashes of the city. Vroum, and cars zoomed past his form, carelessly. he could not understand now why he ever cared for anyone's opinion. No one takes the time to look at you as an individual in this place. People can be so easily traded... his thoughts wandered onto another path.

Toxic breaths were exhaled around him, carbonizing from inside their lungs. People passed him by and he passed by people, drenched in the flood. Most were silent. Here and there, a group of hypocrites playing a pretended game of sympathy. Faking interest to better pass time, because we all lead such boring lives, truthfully, but we refuse to admit it, no, not even to ourselves. The big, big secret. The big black box. Don't be put against the wall now... He knew better than the actors. Their laughter was too loud, their tones too positive. Too much emphasis on something logically inexistent. A few odd stares. He didn't have an umbrella. The city, the city... ah, stamped with its mass consuming of souls and its plastic smiles. The era of grotesque.

A few skulls were bashed onto the concrete of the street until they shattered. Another set of empty stares. No really, how dare they soil the ground with their filth? It was so... red. Then they walked by, shaking their heads. No one really cares anymore. Our palette of emotions is grey. Numb and frozen and insignificant and genetically modified until there is none. No one bothers to keep anything in mind anymore. Everything is automatic and mechanical. Perhaps it's better that way. But there must be a reason, a feeble reason, a simple reason...

Anything, anything at all as of why...

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CRACK. That was the sound of his own skull shattering against the wall. The car screeched in victory, leaving a trace of black rubber. Alarmed for the first time, the grey little man hopped out of the engine and stepped onto an opaque glue, under the traffic lights, flashing aggressively. He... he felt the morning vibrate through his fingertips and the hard mattress on which he was laying. He opened his clear eyes and they connected with those muddy shoes and he tried to smile.

"Oh my fucking God, this boy bleeds white!" A woman cried out, her voiced choked by the high-pitched sirens of the police cars.

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So there, at the intersection between Leninskiy and Vernadskiy avenue, in Moscow, at 3 AM, the boy bled white and everyone around him hurried out to tear his flesh and drink his blood.