Blood Inch

A writer's encounter with a possible 'stranger woman' may yield a Windy-City 'image' of purified badness (for all).

A romance noir inspired by various media (books/movies). Hope you like, 

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In this pensive Windy-City of darkened skies and climate-shifts thanks to eco-pollution, I'd become a special capitalism-superstition writer, penning cyber (online) shorts about hideous leprechauns preying on investors and worker-bees and creating general panic, as if post-9/11 era American city streets weren't already 'blood-simple' with traffic-life 'paranoia' created by that 'any-moment' panic concerning unpredictable/random terror and mania perpetrated by foreign fundamentalists and 'reactionary' 'homegrown' weirdos (ha).

Nevertheless, I considered this stranger exercise in storytelling (on the cyber-highway of the challenged Windy-City of still-active Bulls-Bears markets and sports-bars energizer hype) for superstition-imagery quite valued/valuable and made some 'cool' modern intelligentsia folk-pulp fiction 'pals' online for a social-media (newfound) interest in the 'personality' behind American Homeland activity (ha).

Well, this story, semi-personal, concerns not a leprechaun or fortune-tale of paranoia blended with crime-noir subtly invoking our newfound new-age terror concerning foreign terrorists invading the Homeland but a stranger 'lady-hawk' who invaded my life and sensibility and became (suddenly) my haunting 'muse' of Romanticism, one I'd not anticipated given my inherited forms of Western-world cynicism. I'd end up shockingly casting special street-encounter romance-fantasy imagery (e.g., women walking in the rain) on social-media to complement my new series of shorts about unanticipated love/magic in the rainy Windy-City of darkened skies. Her name was Ezzy, and I'd not been able to predict in any manner that she may've been some kind of American Psycho (wow).

EZZY: What do you think, darling prince?

ME: Wow...did you paint this...rather 'graphic' portrait of intercourse in Chicago?

EZZY: Maybe I did, writer-man; maybe I bought it (online); I think you like!

ME: I love it; I love you!

EZZY: Sure...but I'm suspicious you'll depart from your vows if you're swayed.

ME: Hey, you're all the mystery of temptation I might have been seeking (now).

EZZY: Keep this painting (for yourself); I won't tell you if I made it (myself!).

ME: A mind-game for humility (no?); maybe I'll compare it with online-arts.

EZZY: Alright.

Ezzy shocked me with this presentation of an intercourse-painting she'd insist was (perhaps!) something of an 'original-thought' of hers in the challenged Windy-City of darkened skies. However, she really took me for a 'spin' when she (later) gifted me a toy dart-gun of great colors/design and playful shape and forced me to wonder if I was dating a gorgeous 'lady-hawk' with the mind of a (welcomed) little girl (wow).

EZZY: What do you think?
ME: Aha, gourmet-sushi for a rainy Chicago night for romance/movies (wow).

EZZY: Do you 'believe' I made it (myself), darling-prince?

ME: You know, I'm penning a series of shorts about our stranger meetings.

EZZY: Will you mention our 'chemistry' (in bed), darling-prince?

ME: I haven't decided yet if you made this tasty-sushi (yourself!).

EZZY: Maybe I did...and maybe I poisoned it (too).

ME: Wow...I'm getting goosebumps, Ezzy; and it ain't even Halloween's Eve.

EZZY: Where're you going, writer-man?
ME: To exorcise my paranoia with writing (farewell, Ezzy).

I never saw Ezzy again, after fleeing from her certainly murderous clutches that rainy Windy-City night in her Chicago-residence. I knew she must've poisoned that tasty-sushi she presented on a platter when I got to her place for that date-night. We'd made love so many times, you'd be hard-pressed to think I'd 'anticipate' this was some 'cliched' paranoia I'd inherited from a Chicago-Netflix viewing of Basic Instinct (Sharon Stone) and not The Shining (Shelly Duvall), but that's just what happened (to me!). I met an American Psycho...veiled as a 'lady-hawk' of American Homeland 'religious' Romanticism. I never saw Ezzy again, but I continue to write about her, secretly hoping/fantasizing she's reading these cyber-shorts (online), forgiving me for 'hunting' me like a victim (or target!) and (instead) embracing for the better the time-shared we enjoyed and how it inspired these self-made tales of darkness...and simple brains (for all).

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"Money is everything" (Ecclesiastes)