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     $$     .d""b. .d""b.                  HOE E'ZINE #1040
 [-- $$""b. $$  $$ $$  $$ -- ------------------------------------------- --]
     $$  $$ $$  $$ $$ss$$                     "Thanatos"
     $$  $$ $$  $$ $$                     by Meenk E. Boodle
     $$  $$ $$  $$ $$  $$                      03/16/00
 [-- $$  $$ $$  $$ $$  $$ -- ------------------------------------------- --]
     $$  $$ "TssT" "TssT"

	Cold and oily.  He caresses our face with the barrel of the gun,
 seducing me with promises of a painless end.  All he asks in return is
 that I show him our fear.  I grind my teeth.  Not because I am trying to
 seem brave in our last moments on earth, but because I feel the heat of
 frustration growing into rage.  I wish she weren't so spineless, my host,
 as this would go far more smoothly if she were able to dominate me.  This
 sad, sorry bitch isn't capable of controlling her own damn body, let
 alone this fucking situation she has gotten herself into.  Lucky for her,
 though, she can shrink into her brain as far as she wants, she may not
 even notice when I finally get this creep to kill us.  I hope so, anyway.  
 More for me.  If only I could manage the fear.
	I have a really unique ability.  I can induce an OBE (Out of Body
 Experience) then slip into the body of others.  Sometimes, I am only
 along for the ride if my host's will is greater than my own.  Mostly,
 though, I end up with a passive bitch like this.  It seems her type
 frequently ends up in the scenarios I aim for.
	The man presses the gun against our eye, the cold steel causing a
 chill to dance down our spine into the pit of our stomach.  She recedes
 more.  A moment ago, when she first took notice of my intrusion, she was
 thankful to be released from having to defend herself against him.  Now,
 she knows I am as much of a threat as he is, and is responding in the
 only way she knows how.. flight.  Unless I can shatter this guy's ego and
 force him to kill us, her cowardice may actually save her life.  I really
 hate the fuckers who have a hard-on for fear.
	I found out the first time I slipped into a situation like this,
 fear is the one emotion I just can't fake.  I have never known what it
 feels like to be afraid.  I have yet, in my 24 years on this planet, to
 have a moment of terror.  I barely even know what it feels like to be
 nervous.  At first, I learned to keep my host from completely blocking
 out the conscious world, forcing them to retain some control over their
 body and emotions.  They would produce the fear that would earn me my
 prize, and all I had to do was make sure they couldn't escape.  I soon
 realized, after a BBE (Borrowed Body Experience) which nearly went out of
 control, that I felt their death that much more, the deeper they hid
 themselves.
	After a moment's consideration, I decide to let her burrow as deep
 as she wants.  I will just tear this guy down.  He traces the gun down
 our face, tickling our lip with the muzzle, I smirk at him and wrap our
 pouty lips around it, daring him with our eyes to pull the trigger.  The
 host is no longer responding to our sensory input, so I assume she has
 found a warm place.  He pulls it out, commenting that he has something
 better to suck on, but reconsiders when he reads the vicious thought
 which flashes across our eyes.  He tells me he has a better idea and
 shoves us to the floor.  He tears away our thin cotton panties and
 roughly shoves the gun inside us, snidely commenting about our level of
 arousal.  I insult him, trying to find his weak point, first attacking
 his sexual adequacy. Totally unphased, and wise to my game, he told me
 that he has no mother, homosexual, or inferiority issues, and that I had
 a better chance of lulling him to sleep and escaping, than causing him to
 lose his temper that way.  He seemed to be misreading my growing
 annoyance with his games as me losing composure.  Plan B.
	I kicked out hard with our right foot, just missing his straining
 cock, while striking out with our fingernails.  He pulls out the gun and
 cracks us across the face with it, forcing our jaw to the side with a wet
 pop.  I barely feel the pain, as I am not hardwired to our nerves, but I
 know it is bad because I can feel the bitch slipping deeper into her
 private place.  He backs off for a moment, touching the oozing tracks in
 his face.  He rams the gun back into our cunt and I brace ourself for his
 angry thrusts.  He pulls the trigger thrice.  My final thought while in
 this body is but one word: Vanity.
	This is why I do it.  This moment.  The reason I don't use my
 power to right wrongs and serve justice.
	I am vaulted into space.  Not space, in the Star Wars sense, but
 space in the physical sense.  For a millisecond I feel as if I see
 everything, know everything, and become everything.  I am able to
 manipulate existence and be manipulated by it.  I become God.
	Only for a split second.
	After I reenter my own body I reflect for a moment, trying to
 capture the memory while it is still fresh in my mind, but it slips away
 faster than a dream and I am left with a fierce longing.  After such a
 physical and mental strain, though, my physical longing takes hold and I
 must seek out food.  I never keep food in my house, I spend too much time
 borrowing to worry about perishables.  Besides, why bother cooking when I
 have an unlimited means of getting what I want?
	I dress (I never wear clothes while projecting), put on a bit of
 makeup, and dip into my never-ending supply of cash.  I am in the mood
 for something exotic, so I set out for Chinatown.  The brilliant colours
 of the neighborhood contrast with the deep purples and blues of the
 twilight sky, causing everything to seem surreal.  I drift along,
 allowing my subconscious to guide me to a restaurant that will satisfy my
 hunger.
	My trance-like state is suddenly and violently dispatched by a
 sudden sharp pain in my right side.  I blink in disbelief as reality sets
 in and I realize I have been stabbed.  White and hot, agony blossoms from
 my stomach as a masked man plunges a long thin blade into me again.  The
 pain is so exquisite and bold, yet there is something else, like a
 sinister shadow creeping up from deep inside: Fear.  Fear of the end I
 have so frequently sought and achieved through others.  It grips me with
 icy talons, driving out any physical pain I am feeling.  My meager cache
 of money lifted, the man runs off into the night, leaving me with the
 stark realization that it is all over.  I fight it, suddenly uncertain of
 my convictions regarding life after death, everything fades.  A moment of
 darkness, a blinding light, then eternal exaltation.  I am home.

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 [ (c) HOE E'ZINE -- http://www.hoe.nu       HOE #1040, BY MEENK - 3/16/00 ]