Scratch Online

Sara. The name suggests she has a soul but where she keeps it is a mystery. She has a scar on her chest in the same place a romantic might draw a heart. She noticed me studying it and smiled as she lit a cigarette. Sara is an impersonator. She did her best imitation of an angel but I knew better than that. She wasn’t an angel, nothing of the sort. Sara was a serpent, but a snake wasn’t the only form she could take. She could take the form of a grieving widow for the men searching for a woman to console and need them, she could take the form of an independent and strong person for the men who craved to be controlled and she could take the form of a broken girl with a breaking heart for the men who yearned to save a life. That was her best form I believe.
She looked sweet from a distance but as I neared, the stench of immorality and sin leaked off her body like steam off a lake in the early morning.  At a distance she was everything a man could want; long legs, blonde locks and killer emerald eyes. But that’s exactly where she held them; at a distance squinting their eyes to see her even as they lay next to her in her red twin fitted bed. Silk sheets. Silk skin.  But she was so far away, I couldn’t get close enough to see her true form, just as the other men she shared those silk sheets with couldn’t either and I wondered, after many countless nights with her, if she even had a true form.
She noticed me studying her scar and smiled as she lit a cigarette. She had the greenest eyes, snake eyes, serpent eyes, devil eyes. They pierced through that smoke with ease, as if they had practise piercing. I never did ask how she achieved that wound but I assumed it was the mark made by evil as it tore open her chest and replaced her heart with its’ being.  Sara told me of things that would make a typical man cringe but I liked listening to her. She was fascinating in the least; how she could torture naïve minds with pleasure and still dream at night, how she could break a man as if he were a mere twig and laugh at the simplicity of it all, how she could steal the hearts of man after man and reserve them as if they were trophies to grin at after a hard day’s work and not feel a sliver of guilt was beyond me.  But I kept going back to her. I was well aware of what she was, well aware that to her I was only fortunate enough to be but another one of her victims. To Sara I was only another man to use as practise.  But I’m not like the other men she victimized, I was in no danger.
“I’m empty you know.” she told me one night as we were lying beneath red silk, the way her lipstick red tongue flicked as she talked was fascinating, and I told her I know.  She asked me why I kept coming back then and I told her that I liked her stories, her body, and what she was eager to do with it.
“So does every other man that comes my way.” she hissed.
I laughed a little and told her that other men don’t listen to her stories, they get lost in them. Other men don’t like her body, they warship it and other men don’t look forward to what she’s eager to do with it, they depend on it.  “They lose themselves.”
She took a drag of her cigarette, emerald eyes fixed on me as if she was trying to blister my skin, then as if she was surprised that she couldn’t.
Finally she spoke again, “But not… you?”
I smiled and said, “One day I’ll lose myself. But I’ll be damn sure the one I lose myself in, is nothing short of an angel.”
Sara was the perfect woman, in a naive man’s state of mind. I might have even loved her in my earlier years, when I wasn’t able to tell a temptress from an honest woman. But I knew I had something good coming my way, something beautiful and ever-lasting. Something outside silk sheets and cigarettes.
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Time is truly universal. It is the only thing that will not discriminate against any man nor creature and it is the same for every living piece of this earth. The numbers may differ and seasons may change but there is always a past, present, and future for everything and everyone. Time is the same everywhere. It moves at the same pace, it counts seconds at the same speed and my present becomes my past in the same moment as yours; truly universal.
Sara was my way of using the time I had to my advantage, hell if weren’t for her I would have spent it alone.
Time, it doesn’t matter, what matters is how you use it. She may have believed she was using me, at first she might have been, but in the end I used her to waste my time with while someone beautiful bloomed into my life. And her soul was never hidden. Her eyes weren’t green either.
I think that’s what I love most about her.