Say Hello to My Little Friend


dead men working a sinner, a saint

mixing up a pail of paint

painted the house black as night

when the sun came up the house was white

~ Color Me Once - Violent Femmes


The Others were like him.

Their eyes - they were like glow in the dark bullet holes. Bright with malice but heavy with despair.

They weren't human. They weren't beast. They were something else.

I forgot words, speech, language. All of it.

I stared at them.

I didn't believe it.

"Everybody, this here is Ichigo," Grimmjow said. "Play nice."

Their stares felt like ice. I could feel it digging cold daggers underneath my flesh. It felt terrible. It felt wonderful.

It felt.

What strange things emotions are.

What strange things humans are.

The first girl - woman, whatever - held my gaze at last. She had eyes like discs of Egyptian gold, lke the forbidden treasure in a Pharaoh's tomb. How bizarrely pretty.

"I always do, Grimm," she purred. Like a cat but not. Maybe like a cat on steroids. A god awful, beastly thing. She looked like she wanted to eat me. Maybe would let her.

But probably not.

"I'm Yoruichi, but you can call me Yor," she said to me. I liked the sound of her voice. It was capable, confident, seductive even, but it was soothing. It had a maternal sweetness I couldn't get over.

She held her hand out to me.

I stared at it.

I looked to Grimmjow. Just one second.

Then I shook her hand with my good one. It was smooth, like how a woman's skin should be.

She nearly took my whole arm off.

But then she let go. Stepped back for another to approach me.

This one I didn't like.

He had scars on his face from the Beasts. They were clean and even and perfect.

Movie magic scars.

That's what they were.

His eyes were like charcoals with the fire burning from within, like when the ashes start to crumble away around the edges.

Does that make sense?

Of course it doesn't.

Then again, nothing ever does.

"Shuhei," he said. It was his name. His voice was too quiet, too even, like a wolf's paw on snow.

I hated the snow.

I tried to smile.

I think I looked like I was in pain.

I wondered if the number sixty-nine tattooed on his left cheek was funny.

It wasn't.

He shook my hand then rejoined the others on their throne made out of a black leather sofa with the stuffing spilling in some odd tears here and there. A morbid sight for all living room furniture items, I'm sure.

Maybe it was from Ikea.

A blond scarecrow with a slinky grin greeted me next. His smile knew something I didn't.

He had a butterfly knife in his hands, a sharp, lethal, small thing. He flicked it back and forth between his slender fingers. The light from the oil lamp in the corner danced on the blade . It was really more like a firefly.

I had always loved mom used to help me catch them in the summer. Little pieces of sunlight trapped in a jar.

"M'name's Shinji Hirako. Glad to see one of ya are still out there," he said. "That's good. A little hope is always good, y'know?"

He flashed the knife before my face.

That was when I saw his eyes, in the reflection of the glinting cloud silver lining of his knife.

They were brown and boring, like mine but not. Not at all.

They were the color of brandy right as it's being poured into a snifter.

Catching light and blades just like his knife.

"Yeah," I said.

"A lotta hope," he drawled, wide grin swan diving into a frown. "That's a different story. It's bad - poisons the soul. It's like the apple the Queen gave to Snow White-"

I remembered my mom telling me that story when I was five or six - a little thing who was adorable to believe in such magic. Not an adult who was insane for believing the same thing.

A ripe, luscious, blood red apple. Bitten. Maggots and black ooze. Sleeping death.

"- it looks nice on the outside, so delicious. It's a fate worse than death ," Shinji said casually. "You see what I'm saying?"

"I think so."

"Good. Then don't fuck it up."

Then he was gone, sitting on the couch.

I didn't know what he meant.

I knew hope, though.

Today, I found hope.

Blue-eyed, smart-mouthed, sexy hope.

"Don't listen to him, sweetie. He always speaks in rhymes and riddles ," a clear, feminine called out to me, pulling me free from the mind fog words had cast upon me like a magician's trick.

She was the last of the group, a busty bombshell with hair colored like sea-foam green nail polish and legs longer than the Mississippi. Her eyes were a stunning verdigris, like stones stolen from the necklace of Mother Earth herself. They had little jagged veins of metallic brass that pumped molten bronze like some sort of steampunk clockwork.


"My name's Nelliel," she said.

I nodded.

Turned back to Grimmjow.

A sigh.

I'd almost forgotten he was beautiful.

He winked at me.

My heart thudded and beat like a dubstep song right after they drop the bass.

He was a summer thunderstorm incarnate. All crackle and boom and powerful. A force of nature. Of Destruction.


"Let's go to the playhouse and show Ichi here how we do things around here, yeah?"

His voice was sin.

I mentally made the sign of the cross over myself.

God help me.

I would fuck that man into eternal damnation.

But what beautiful blasphemy it would be.

There was a unanimous agreement to his suggestion.

"Fuck. A human, who would've thunk it?"

I don't remember who said that.

I was still looking at their eyes.

Their eyes.

They all hid someone.

But who?

I crossed my fingers behind my back.

I wished they could show me the sun.


With your feet in the air and your head on the ground

Try this trick and spin it, yeah

Your head will collapse

But there's nothing in it

And you'll ask yourself

Where is my mind?

~ Where is My Mind by Pixies


A/N: Ah, this is the perfect way to get my inspiration flowing again. Remember, this is kind of my version of writing poetry so the chapters will remain short. Thanks for reading! :)