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"The sky is deep, the sky is dark.
The light of stars is so damn stark.
When I look up, I fill with fear.
If all we have is what lies here,
this lonely world, this troubled place,
then cold dead stars and empty space. . .
Well, I see no reason to persevere,
no reason to laugh or shed a tear,
no reason to sleep or ever to wake,
no promises to keep and none to make.
And so at night I still raise my eyes
to study the clear but mysterious skies
that arch above us, as cold as stone.
Are you there, God? Are we alone?”
--The Book of Counted Sorrows--January 13th, 1998
“Jim. . .”
“Huh?” He stirs, sitting up. He had been dozing at his desk. The voice came
again:
“Hey Doc.”
“Oh no. . . no, no more. . . “ He closed his eyes tightly and prayed. Then
turned his desk chair toward the door and opened his eyes, “Oh God. . .”
She smiled seductively, “God’s not going to help you now.”
“M-Mona Lisa. . .”
She stood in the doorway, propping herself up with one arm. The deep
purple, satin nightgown she wore seemed molded to her body, revealing every curve.
Slowly she walked toward him. “Do you think I never saw the way you looked at me?
The want, the desire in your eyes. . . Do you think I didn’t know?”
“No! It wasn’t like that! You were. . . an experiment. . .” Zachary’s breath was
quick. Hot blood pounded through his veins.
“Oh, but I was more than that. I was your greatest accomplishment.” She
fingered the framed picture on his desk. “Greater than the other life you created. . ?”
“. . . Robbie,” he groaned.
“She took him away,” Mona Lisa stood before him, “Just like Jackson did with
me. Why does everyone take away the things you care about most?”
Zachary choked back a sob as a tear trickled down his cheek. “Why?”
She reach up and gently wiped the tear away. “Poor thing,” she crooned.
The tears came harder now, he did not try to stop them. His body was racked with
sobs as she held his head against her hard, flat stomach and stroked his shaggy hair.
After a moment, she lifted his chin and looked into his eyes. “I’m here now,” she
whispered.
He lifted his hands to her hips. The satin so smooth against his skin. “Mona
Lisa. . .”
She smiled and lowered herself onto his lap, straddling him, face to face. As
she caressed his face with her soft hands he moaned and slid his hands up to the
swells of her large, full breasts. “Take me, Jim,” She whispered, drawing her lips
near.
Zachary closed his eyes and waited. . .
. . . Nothing happened.
He opened his eyes to find himself alone in his lab. After the shock passed,
he lay his head on his desk and wept. The Hallucinations were getting worse. But
soon, it wouldn’t be just a dream. That thought made him feel better. He sat up,
wiped his eyes, and settled back into his notes. Not long now. . .
~~Mona Lisa found herself standing in the driveway to the farmhouse. The
sky glowed orange and gold in the dusk. She admired the sight for a moment, then
tensed, sniffing the air. Turning around, she saw what she had smelled: smoke. The
farmhouse was on fire! Thin whisps drifted out from the upper story windows. But,
where was everyone else? She climbed the porch steps, and found the front door
open. The screen door. . .was torn from it’s hinges?! “What the hell. . ?” A feeling
of dread begun to rise in Mona Lisa’s belly. Cautiously, she entered the house, the
kitchen, and stopped at the site before her. . .
“April. . .” April was lying across the island in the middle of the kitchen. Her
white tank-top was red with blood from stab wounds too numerous to count. Mona
Lisa stared at April’s torn body, her eyes slowly trailing down, following the drips of
blood running down the edge of counter, forming a spreading pool on the floor.
Mona Lisa made a wide circle, never taking her eyes from April. A touch on
her shoulder make her relax slightly and she turned, only to find it was a leg that had
brushed her. She staggered away, looking up, feeling her heart fall to her feet.
Wendy’s eyes bulged in their sockets, her tongue sticking out slightly from blue lips
as she gently swung on the rope that was around her neck. Her dead eyes passed
through Mona Lisa, then continued on as her body slowly spun away from her.
“. . . God no, Jesus. . .” Mona Lisa heard herself saying. She turned away
from the terrible sight, only to find another. She gasped and brought her hands to
her face, trying to make what she saw disappear. “Mikey. . .” The turtle lay draped
over the table, his hands, tied at the wrists, were extended above him. Another cord
bound his feet, and both cords extended quite far, forming loops at the ends.
Michaelangelo’s shoulders bulged strangely, and a longer look confirmed that they
had been dislocated, yanked from their sockets, but not to the point of being ripped
off. Blood dripped from his wrists and ankles, were the cords had bit in. To finish
the job, a bullet had been put neatly between his eyes. Blood oozed from the
perfectly ciruclar hole in his head. The wall behind him was splattered with blood and
gray matter. His empty eyes stared.
“Oh God, why. . ? Did They get all of them?” Mona Lisa turned from Mike,
avoided the hanging Wendy, and entered the living room. She found the next victim
right away. “NO!” The tears flowed and a sob escaped her. Splinter, her beloved
new master and father, lay on his back near the TV. His lips pulled back in an
uncharacteristic sneer, and his eyes staring straight up. An animal collar was around
his neck, pulled tightly and left there after it had killed him. A greenish foam had
crusted around his mouth, and snot had dried around his nostrils. Mona Lisa shut her
eyes tightly and drew in a shuttering breath. She stood straight, and opened her
eyes only to find another nightmarish site: “Oh Casey, you too. . ?” Her other
human friend was tied to one of the two chairs in the living room. His head had
fallen back, jaw dropped, face white as a ghost. A gaping wound across his abdomen
had lain his intestines neatly into his lap.
“Jesus. . .” Mona Lisa turned her eyes to the second chair, dreading what
she’d find but needing to know. At first glance, she cried out, and turned away, hand
coming to her mouth to keep her from vomiting. Another of the Turtles had been
tied to this chair. She did not know who it was, for his head was no longer attached
to his body. She could not erase the vision of his broken spinal cord shining white
surrounded by torn flesh and muscle; his head was not cut off, it was ripped from his
body. When she was sure she wouldn’t throw up, she looked back at the decapitated
Turtle. His head had be placed in his lap, sunken but familiar eyes stared through
her. “Donnie. . .” Mona Lisa sobbed, shaking her head slowly and backing a step
away. This made a pair of feet become visible that his been hidden from sight by
one of the chairs. She slowly approached and identified the body, moaning his name:
“. . .Leo. . .” His entire body was black and blue, covered with bruises.
Apparently, beating him to death hadn’t been successful. He lay on his shell, arms
spread wide, his own katana impaling his chest. His eyes were closed tightly, possibly
swollen shut. As she stared down at Leo, Mona Lisa suddenly had a horrible feeling
of being watched, and cautiously turned toward the back wall. Slowly she walked to
it, eyes huge. “No, God no. . . Not my Raphy. . .Please no. . .” He hung in crucifixion
style, hands pinned to the wall by his sais, driven through his palms. Raph’s head
drooped on his left shoulder; the eyes she had felt staring were his, glazed, dead.
The entire front of his shell and legs were red with blood from his slashed throat. So
much blood, life blood, from her true love’s body. Mona Lisa suddenly felt as though
her legs would no long support her. She dropped to her knees, still staring at Raph’s
body. Rage and grief rose in her as she felt her heart break; she tossed her head
back and released a wail of pure anguish:
“NOOOOO!! “ ~~
Mona Lisa jerked awake, sitting straight up in bed, gasping, tears streaming
down her face. Her sudden movement caused Raph to wake, sitting up next to her.
“Hon? What’s wrong?” His hoarse voice drew her haunted gaze to him.
What the hell had scared her so bad? “Mona Lisa. . ?”
The fear in her eyes changed instantly to relief as her body visibly relaxed.
She threw her arms around his neck and sobbed, “Raph! Oh Raphy. . .thank
God. . . thank God. . .”
Raphael was baffled, but said nothing. He held his love tightly in his arms as
she cried, just being there for her. Just being there.
~~Michaelangelo found himself standing on the edge of a small clearing.
Trees rose high toward the star-filled sky above him. Cool. He liked the woods.
Suddenly, a fire burst up in front of him. For a moment Mike was worried, but soon
saw the fire was contained, obviously built ahead of time. But by whom? The bright
flames ruined his night vision, so he simply waited for something to happen. . .
“Hi Mikey,” Came an all-too-familiar voice from behind him.
He spun around to see her step into the clearing. “Mona Lisa,” Mike
whispered as she smiled sweetly. The firelight gleamed on her hair and made her
smooth green skin glow.
She slowly moved to stand before him. He sighed and closed his eyes as she
slid her hands up his plastron to his shoulders. “I’m sure you’ve been waiting for this
as long as I have,” Mona Lisa crooned as her arms circled around his neck. Her lips
were like he always imagined; soft, warm, full against his. Gently she pushed him to a
sitting position on a large rock. Mike helped her climb atop him, straddling his thighs.
“What about Raph?” He asked.
“What about him? He’s not here, is he?” She took his hands and moved
them to her body, kissing him again. Things were just getting interesting when a
noise from the darkness drew their attention. The fire suddenly burned low, reduced
to glowing embers. Mike was about to say something when Mona Lisa was yanked
from his arms. She screamed as a Huge, growling creature held her in the air. The
clearing was suddenly full of snarling, horrible monsters, none of which Mike could
make out. They didn’t seem very interested in him though, as they gathered around
the largest, the one holding Mona Lisa.
“Help me!” She cried, her voice full of fear, but Mike found himself unable to
move or speak. The large creature stopped growling, quieting the others as well. It
held Mona Lisa to it’s face and inhaled deeply, paused, then uttered an
earth-shattering roar. The others followed suite, and attacked. The wails of pure
terror and pain from Mona Lisa rose above the snarls of the monsters as they tore at
her. The screams were reduced to gurgles as Mike heard the sounds of bones
snapping, of flesh being ripped apart. Suddenly, all noise ceased. The clearing was
dark and still. Mike held his breath, terrified by what had just happened. After a
moment the fire sprang back to life as before. The creatures were gone. Mike found
he could move. He was about to slide off his rock when he glanced at the ground.
He shrieked in horror and grief at the site: A twisted pile of ruin that was once Mona
Lisa. Cold, sightless eyes stared up at him accusingly. “How could you let this
happen?” A voice hissed.
“NO! GOD NO!!” Mike gasped for breath. He was suffocating!
No-no-no!!”~~
“NO!” Mike sat straight up in bed. He was out of breath and covered in
sweat. His jaw ached from clenching it. It took a few moments for him to calm
down. He wanted to run to Raph and Mona Lisa’s room just to make sure she was
there and all right, but he didn’t. “Man,” he thought, “My Mona Lisa dreams usually
don’t end like THAT.” Shuttering at the memory, he lay back down. . .
. . . And waited for dawn.
