Tag: Day One�.. The innocent and the lost. An alarm goes off and she immediately springs to her feet. "Fuck! I should've never gone to sleep, what was I thinking?" She had much ground to cover, for he had been out of sight for several days. She knew it was just a matter of time before she turned a random corner on the street and he would be there. She dreamed last night, or at least she hoped it was a dream that he was hovering over her, licking her neck, right at the spot that made her toes curl and her nails rip the nearest object, be it him or the sheets on her altar. Why does he do this shit to me? It made her crazy scared, yet exhilarated at the same second to know that at any moment, any breath, he, the mystical creature of everything she loves and hates, would appear, with no smoke or mirrors���and clearly says, "YOU ARE SO TAGGED." This new girl, so youthful, so playful. This one he will enjoy more than the last. His lust for her will be simple. As pure as her milky white skin, fresh untainted by knowledge. He shall play with her like a kitten. This will be an easy one to control. She has been warned about him, his name has gotten out, a grave mistake on his part with a tag long past. He must be careful to seduce her quickly and not linger. No taunting he must go straight for the kill if he is to succeed. She strolls in front of him carelessly. To her this is all a game, to him it is life. He watches her, almost childlike is her actions. He appears to her in a daydream, giving her flowers and a kiss. As she embraces the thought she hears a whisper not in her mind but her ear. It shots shivers down her spine it is cold and wispy. Tag now rings in her head as if it were an echoing chamber. He has gotten her again. Enchanted by fear, she falls to her knees. The dress she wears clings to her body like paint, she is sweating, and appears to have just gotten out of a pool. Her head pounding, the flashes of him being caring and warm fade, and she sees him for the animal he is. Feeling weak and hopeless, she imagines her body lying naked and without life. Does she really want to let him win? How easy for him. She thinks about how the game is played and the pawn she has turned out to be. He glares at her, and with a bass filled voice he tells her to get up and face him. "GET UP!" With shaking legs she raises to her feet, her expression is one of disbelief. Did he really just raise his voice to me? She starts to think what it will take to get out of this. As exciting as this was, seconds thoughts are poison darts piercing her tough layers. She is now face to face looking him dead in his eyes. Not flinching or looking away, she lifts her right hand to the back of his neck, leans in and kisses him tenderly and innocent. She withdraws her lips from his and continues to stare at him. He has no idea what is going on in her pretty little head, but he likes her touch and is temporarily blinded by her possessiveness. She is supposed to be helpless and frail. She moves toward his neck and licks him the way he had the night before in her delusions, and breaths deep and moves toward his ear. Her arms by her side, they are standing body to body, not touching. She can feel his breath. She refuses to let this be the desirable intermission she has been fantasizing about for days now. She finally releases a breath and whispers, Tag! You are such my bitch! Pushing him away from her, she turns and heads for the thick of the trees. He stands there shocked, immobilized by the events that just passed. He does not run in the direction she has gone but in quite the opposite. He was running not for her but from himself. This will not happen again he thinks he will not let his passion for human love control his need for power and control over the mind. Damn it, he was supposed to be the one with the power. He was promised his immortality would lend him to great envy. How fooled he was, taken by the love of his life to eternal darkness. His revenge will be fulfilled, he will over come this. First he must rest. He lies there in the dark moss filled meadow; he gazes at the stars contemplating his life, the life he was forced to be part of. By some chance of fate the girl stumbles upon him while she strolls in the park. She is startled, but the glow of his skin in the moonlight is too much for her to ignore. She approaches cautiously but notices he is in a trance. Not coherent of his surroundings. She is drawn close and begins to undress. She lies on top of him and falls asleep. The ground begins to engulf them both and the intertwine and become one. She feels safe and warm not noticing he is coming in for the kill. His soft touch becomes forceful, suffocating. You will never control me he says in a low powerful voice. She quivers and his power and realizes this is no longer a game. He throws her as she tumbles through the darkness she clings to the emptiness she feels. A jolt awakes her and she finds herself lying on her bed. A dream she thinks, more like a nightmare. She chuckles as she realizes she is taking this too seriously, she lays back down and sees written on the ceiling in a green mossy substance " Tag woman you will be mine...." Tag woman you will be mine? Seems like her life just flashed before her eyes. How did I end up here, she ponders? She is naked like she remembered last being. What had happened since the moonlight when she laid, lovingly against him, trying to be close to whatever he was, that still puzzled her? She remembers faintly him getting aggressive with her, but what happened to bring her back to her own bed? Did he return her to where she belonged? Was it a dream? But it seemed so real, it couldn't have been, it just couldn't have been. She sits up in a chilling sweat, and realizes there is a candle lit on the table by the open window. The drapes are flowing in the cool wind from outside�the candle is flickering. She rises to close the window and looks out at the moon and hears something below. The crackling of leaves being walked upon, and a shadow. It was him, he had not been gone long, and she could still smell him in the air. She pulls the window closed and the candle goes out. She suddenly feels like she isn't alone. She stands in the darkness, abandoned of ornamentation, feeling surreally like a silhouette, an outline of a person, and hurriedly begins to feel her way back to the safety and warmth of her bed. She lies down and pulls the blankets up over her head and pulls her pillows close. Why is this happening to me? Why is this so hard? Why can't we co exist? She becomes overwhelmed with grief, the kind one feels when someone close to them has passed on to the afterlife, and the tears swell in her eyes. She then starts to feel like that five year old, being sent to her room as punishment for some miscellaneous childhood prank, with no dinner, and wondering does anyone, would anyone; ever love her, just for her? Unconditionally. She cries for what seems like forever to her and all she can think of is Tag�. How is it going to happen to her? Will it happen to her? Too many questions and no answers�she has no idea what is in store for her through the night, will she even see the light of tomorrow? Unknown, with her index finger on the pillow she motions as if she is writing and spells out TAG. Pitch black becomes a light blue shimmering T A G�she stares at the word and repeats to herself, T - A - G, T - A - G�. until it disappears� she drifts to sleep. He doesn't understand. Branded by the women he loves he clinches his chest. TAG is burned into his flesh. The sweet aroma of her perfume permeates from the wound. He bleeds but not of his own blood. It is hers; She is closer to being his than he thought. She is giving herself to him, but why? Is this a lost soul that needs to be found? This all seems too easy, too obtainable. He must be careful. Should he run and find a new opponent of hunt this one down and finish her off like a mad horse that is put to pasture? He cannot afford to let his emotions over take him this time. Seduction will be his greatest tool and his biggest enemy. He goes to visit her, her dream is his playground. He romps in the fields of her despair, playing on her emotions of rejections and despair. He finds her lying in a field of flowers, naked, vulnerable. He kneels and extends his hand to lift her to her feet. She follows willingly, without fear. Can this be? Is she willing to partake in his sorrow? His freedom from eternal pain? She stairs coldly into his eyes, a chill overwhelms his being. NO! She will not this is all a game. How dare she tempt him and with draw the invitation when he comes to accept. This is it, you foolish girl. The ground disappears and all goes black. A blue glow surrounds everything yet nothing is around, the emptiness is all encompassing. Is she falling if is time passing her by. Disorientated and alone she is unsure what to do. With a flash she finds herself back in the field... naked. Alone. But this time it is real. It is daylight. The next day. People stroll by enjoying a morning walk on a near by trail. Burned into the tree T A G... Yes Tag�. branded on you permanently. Tag a game she lost as a child and prepared for now. She waited her whole life to be hit by the bent arrows and sorrows. Her fear excited her. She imagined him standing in front of her with his hands side by side on top of her head. Her hair, long and black blowing softly in the somber breeze. She waited for him to take his hands down to the ground, ripping, stripping all the bull shit of her unimportant existence away and see her. For what she is, simply, weak, afraid, scared. She see him for what he is, a victim, she sees herself the same way. Common ground. They glare @ each other, he bites his bottom lip, closes his ice cold eyes for a second, and everything in the world is gone. They are standing on top of the world. Together, briefly they feel one and the power is so extreme, a tear hugs his check. Is this really what power, true power felt like? She knows all is lost within them and it is a beautiful communion. She has waited eternity for him to come to her, true and wild, passionate and forgiving. Looking like the most appealing of any of his prey, she leans in for the word branded on his chiseled being and licks her lips. She sweetly kisses the word, slowly turns her head up toward his eyes and in a begging pleading voice, she whispers, "I'm your, tag me!" He shakes his head in disbelief. She isn't really giving up. "Tag Me." I need you to do it. He won't, he can't he turns his back to her. Why is this such a struggle for him? What does she have that makes this so damn difficult? He thinks. Just Tag her you bitch, it is easy. You have done it time and time before. She is anxious and she touches his shoulder. And says, " Just Do It! Tag me, Goddamn it, you have to, you want to, TAG ME! " He looks back and she is gone. Turns his head again and she is face to face with him again. "Tag Me. � What the fuck are you waiting for? I need this. The time has come. It is the final hour. The moment he has waited for, with one swift move he can end this, all her pain, her suffering. She would be his to control. He raises his hand to caress her face, gently. Her Skin is that of a newborn child still warm from the womb. Her eyes glow with knowledge that he is going to give her the new life in which she longed for. Her hair gently dangles in front of her face. He brushes it away. My sweet child he says. I have seen many things and have experienced nothing. For you are the one thing I have searched for. Nothing till now has mattered. My lust for life has turned me into this man demon before you. He lays her down and caresses her body. Her sweat glistens in the strange glow that is now around them. Their lips connect in and electric passion that she has never felt before. He holds her close as if their bodies are to become one mass, one energy. Her comfort in his presence alarms her, excites her. As he begins to enjoy the fruits of his labor she arises. Awake now in her room her television is blaring. She looks around puzzled to what has gone on. She searches every room for a sign... nothing to be found no words... no strange inscriptions. She collapses on her bed in tears. What has this all been. Some type of surreal dream? Damn it, it had to be real. She phones a friend and asks here where she has been all day? The past few days for that matter. She is reassured it was all a dream, a concoction of her imagination. As she hangs up her phone she notices she has a message. She plays it; it is her estranged boyfriend telling her good-bye. He ends his message with.... TAG dear your turn... a dream? Trying to convince herself that this is a random occurrence she decides to take a shower and maybe venture out into the sunlight and get some color. Maybe some fresh air would clear her mind and make her see things as they really where. She enters the shower and turns on the water and to her surprise the water is ice cold and a jolt of energy flows through her body like a million watts of insanity. Still a bit puzzled, she wonders if she is having flashbacks of her younger, wilder days. In those few years, she was heavily influenced by the many men she let walk in and out of her life, and became so familiar with being controlled; this was becoming another male dominant situation. Even though it was unhealthy for her, she loved being told what to do and when to do it. Sexually, she liked being commanded and hardly ever approached the subject with a forceful attitude. That is why this is so strange for her, almost out of body. She always gives in, and part of her wants more than anything to let him use her for whatever purpose, yet another part wants him to experience restriction at its heightened sense. It is just as powerful to be totally submissive, she thought. Whether or not this was real, she didn't care. Either way it would happen for her. Her current boyfriend was willing to do whatever she willed, desired, dreamed. In the beginning, he wondered what was so wrong with sharing the responsibility of pleasure, but her begging him to hold her down, mask her eyes, tell her she was a bad girl, started to turn him into a sadistic, controlling freak and she loved it, and soon he did too. Thoughts flooded her mind and thinking about the dark stranger of her dreams, she wondered if he walked the earth or just the fields of her fantasies? She caressed the soap over her body, her arms, her breasts, and the icing water had sent them into delightful alertness and she moved her hand down and cleared a so called slate and on her stomach and wrote the word on her body. TAG! And she stepped under the water, lifting her head back. The cold water pelting her body, she crossed her legs and a warm numbing sensation made her so weak she felt as if unconsciousness would soon follow. She reaches for the wall and followed it down and laid in the tub with the water still falling, and a smile graced her face.... and the only thing on her mind is Tag, any way you say it. Tag me, Tag you, Tag this, Tag bitch, tag, tag, tag, tag, tag, and in an instant she realizes she is screaming this at the top of her lungs. Tag TAG.... She is lying down howling out the words that have haunted her, the water pulsation on her back to the rhythm of her racing heart. The shower curtain is thrown open, her eyes widen as if she was caught in front of a racing train. Straight to her neck he plunges. Deep is the wound piercing the very layers of torment she hides. Pain fills her eyes all she sees is red. Floating a lot in the air of her new found ecstasy, none like she has ever felt before. Her inner walls overflow with wetness. She clinches her hands in the pure revilement of what is about to be. Embraced in the arms of his warmth she is magically transported to her bed. His libido is overwhelming, a monster she has created. Her fantasy has transformed itself into reality. Thrust into a world of fanciful ecstasy he rapes her of her inhibitions. She becomes his to control. Willingly she gives herself to him. Not knowing where she is or who exactly she is with she sinks deeply into her bed. With a soft kiss to her inner thigh she is his. Blackness surrounded his face but she knew his touch, His smell, she could taste his sweet sweat on her lips. He thrusts deep inside her, reaping the fruits of her passions. Sweat drenched they move as one in a melodic syncopated rhythm like none has ever seen before. Feeling his presence throbbing inside her she knows this is it. Her screams of ecstasy are heard by the Gods. She quivers in pure revelation awaiting the climatic moment, with one pure yelp of overwhelming joy she shutters. All falls silent in the room. He is gone but his touch is still present on her breast. She runs to the shower, Hoping the cold water will bring this feeling back again. The shower curtain has been ripped from the rod she touches her neck. The mark of his passion is on her. Tag written in his blood stains the wall. Dripping down the walls in a faint reminder that this episode was not over. Weeks go by and after undergoing such trauma see decided to try to put this behind her and move on with her life. Unfortunately, he will not sit in the shadows forever for her to realize that fate brought them together. He was tired of waiting. His hunger was eating away at his sanity. He went out in search of her. She didn't want to be found but he will Tag her for good. She was magically lost in that beautiful day. Sitting at a local coffee shop she dreamingly sipped her latte' reading the morning paper. A sharp crash to the ground her cup flies off the table. The world goes to slow motion as she feels her chest receive a sharp cut. In one swift move she is gashed. Screaming in pain she looks around her to see if anyone notices her torment. No one seems to hear her cries, see her pain. She look surround frantically but the rest of the world has seemed to turn their eyes away from her, as if she no longer exists. Terrifying laughter fills her head and surrounds her. Insanity never felt so normal till now. In the shadows she sees him standing, amused by her torment. " Damn you!" She screams in terror. " You little girl, did you think you could forget me?" His anger was so familiar. Reassessing the situation quickly, she cannot figure out what he wants. The hunt, the kill, for her to be his servant, slave. What? Is she going to have to take the upper hand for once? Make the situation impossible to escape and resolve the unknown. "Little girl? Excuse Me?" She said as struggled to stand to her feet. " If you had any idea what was going on here, you wouldn't dare utter those words." How the hell could I ever forget you? You make it impossible to forget you and even more trying to be any where near you!" She tells him, she has offered herself sacrificially time and time again and always denied. As the words leave her mouth, she loses all of her strength and fell to the ground. She lies there motionless. The very air chills on her lips at the touch to her icy lips. This time has he gone to far? Is this no longer a game but a stark reality that has manifested itself into a bleak existence. Has he let the excitement of the hunt become a bloodthirsty kill? Where will it end? She has to wake. He kneels beside her; tears begin to swell in his throat. Reality has no place in his mind; his soul has become lost in a sea of emotions. Will this be his finally victory? Will it bring him his greatest defeat? He slowly reaches down towards her and softly whispers to her... "Tag my sweetest one, it seems you are now it forever." He watched her lay there helpless and his mix emotions of conquest and loss were tearing him down from the inside of his head to the soles of his feet. Was she dead? He felt (She was right and he knew it all to well. She was no little girl. Unlike him, she knew what she wanted and it was him, everything about him, even the horrible things she'd be willing to overlook because he was Him. Her God. He was the one pulling her strings, making her flee on frequent occasions, pushing her emotional buttons. But in order for this to work out in her favor, she needed to make him realizes how much he really needed her. Fuck the hunt, it was her, not that she was attractive and he wanted to play with her for a short will. She finally realized that giving herself to him was the wrong thing to do. She started regretting their encounter. He didn't deserve her unconditional whatever it was. Love would be a twisted label to put on it and she wasn't ready to commit to such a powerful word, yet he was her GOD?) He stood, leaning against the brick wall, heaving from the excitement of the attack and watched her as all these thoughts registered in her mind. The more she looked at him, and worshipped him time and time again, the more pissed off she got. The blood staining her cloths dried and blackened during the few moments that had passed. This is going to cease as of now! She walked up to him looked him straight in the eyes and said, " I 'm only going to say this once, what is it that you want? Be honest, be a man! Do you know what you Fucking want? No, wait, don't answer that, I already no the answer, NO, you have no clue. You are scared and guess what? You should be." Looking rather confused at her stand against him, he said nothing. She looked and him in disgust, and told him that this meeting was discontinued at this point in time, she would give him time to consider her words. As she turned to leave He has been sitting patiently. Waiting for them to strike but to no avail, nothingness has over come him. Are they tormenting his mind with the pure anticipation of the attack? Or have they caught on to his whimsical fantasy and turn the other way. Damn them for giving up so easily. If this is how it should be he must make another move. Or has he wounded his opponents so badly that they cannot strike again. Fatally wounded in mind, body and soul. He leaves his place of comfort to seek out his prey. Longing for the battle he lurks in the shadows, awaiting what now has become a mutual mating dance of intrigue. For what has seemed to be an eternity, he still longs for the day that she will sercome to him without question. He has given up looking for her, wallowing in his own disgust he sits there in self-pity. Days turn into months turn into years and it is on the eve of there first mating dance she returns to him. In his thoughts she haunts him and in his soul she lives. �So do you have and answer for me?� She asks of him. �My dear I have. You have been tagged from the day I met you. All I want is you, completely to do with what I want. All you have to do is do as I ask but I fell that you cannot do that. You are too conscious of your own self worth. So thus I know is true, for this I must haunt you till you break down and give yourself to me.� Tag my dear you are it. With those final words he disperses. She wakes as from a bad dream, he lives. This game is not over. She wakes only to find a thick layer of dust surrounding everything in the room. Clapping her hands down on the aged velvet bedding, the dust rises to form a silhouette of a man. Continuously she claps her hands down on the bed and more and more dust rises. The man becomes more and more detailed. He is standing at the foot of the bed, with arms centered toward his chest. He is holding a small circle of blue light. His eyes are closed. She rises from the bed, and tries to speak. Her voice is rough and she clears her throat only to ask a question, not to be answered. "Who are you?" In a pale pink nightgown, she crawls toward the foot of the bed and reaches her hand to touch him. However, her hand hit what seemed to be a panel of glass. An ill feeling of panic set in and she quickly moved around the parameter of the bed to feel the glass that incased her. Trapped and plotting an escape she looks around for a blunt object. No luck. "How did even get here?" The last thing she remembered was turning from him, and she was wounded. She looked down at her leg, as she remembered the attack and there was no scar or indication that anything had happened. "Surely I didn't dream it," she thought. No, It couldn't have been a dream. "So how in the hell did I get here?� Hours passed and she sat in the center of the bed, waiting for the silent giant to open his eyes. Scanning her memory for the slightest fragment of a memory. Suddenly...the blue light became red in color. The guard opened his eyes and looked to the right of where she was sitting on the bed. The door opened and it was him, her attacker. As he entered the room, the guard bowed his head, slowly fell to his knees and held the red light to his master. Taking the red light into his hand and tossing it in his hand up and down he walked the three-sided parameter of the bed and said nothing. Swift in his turns he paced several times, then took a seat at the edge of the bed. The red light resting on the bed beside him and turning a cool blue color. She moved to the edge of the bed and felt for glass. Her hand exceeded the length of the bed and there was no glass. He laughs at her childlike behavior and she rises off the bed with two wobbly legs. He rises and swiftly moves around to face her and with two strong hands, grabs her waist to keep her from falling. Face to face they stand, close enough to feel each other breathe. "How long have you kept me prisoner?" she asked. He replied, "You aren't a prisoner, you may leave any time you want." They move to the bed and hypnotized by his beautiful crystal blue eyes, she begins to feel as though she may be in love but fear of him leads her hand to the blue light. He leans in to kiss her and suddenly the guard rises and the light turns red again... With one swift move He lays her on the bed engulfing her with his presence. The light mesmerizes her. She looses herself in the swirling patterns of the now emblazed orb of light. She feels entranced and suddenly realizes what it is. The souls of all his victims before her. Is this what he has been chasing her for all this time? Why did he choose her? Why didn�t he just take it when he had the chance so many times before? Her head filled with questions faster than she could ask them. Still in the embrace of passion she jolted from his arms. �Why?� she screamed with angry passion? Why must you do this? He sits on the edge of the bed, looking at her still with passion in his eyes. � Dear you can leave if you must, but be forewarned I will still seek you. I will seek you till you surrender willingly to me.� �Just take it. Damn you Just take what you want from me!� � You see I can�t� as the orb slowly floats to him. �Look closely my child, none of these souls are tormented. They came to me. That is the challenge, that is the TAG.� � Now go. We will see each other in another time and place.� The guard escorted her out with one gesture from his master. Still fighting to understand she was taken from the lavish room and seen outside where a car was waiting to take her home. Where ever that was, unsure if her life had been some strange dream or a mere moment in time. Not sure of who she was she searched for some form of identity. As she was dropped off at what she remembered as her building she climbed the stairs to her apartment. As she opened the door she walked slowly into the room. Closing the door behind her she noticed a message on her phone. � Tag dear you are it� The voice it was him. She turned around as if someone was behind her. There on the sofa was a single glass rose, dipped in blood. She approached the rose with and noticed a note. Opening it as if it was the last thing she would ever read it said, My dearest, I cant live without you -TAG- A feeling of being kicked in the stomach sends her running to the bathroom and then to her knees. Gagging she throws up and begins to cry. Moments later she finds herself face to face with the Mexican tiled floor. It was cold and in a deep sigh and serious determination, she began to sleepily chant, "Tag." Lying on the floor with her eyes closed, she knew it was the morning. But fear of what she might see made her lie there for moments longer. Suddenly, with a deep breath, she opened them to find a stream of sunlight from her bedroom window to her place on the bathroom floor. Inching up she needed to do things before anything else could happen, food and water. She turned on the faucet and cupped her hand under the cool running water. After gulping it like a sorority girl would beer at a frat party, she began to splash her face and then her hair. Reaching for a towel with one hand and turning off the water with the other, she felt a rush of newness. This is a new day, but what day? Running to the kitchen she looked to the calendar next to her phone, but realized that didn�t help. Turning on the television she recognized the morning news that after several minutes the anchor confirmed, �Today is April 15, 2002 and for all of you who haven�t filed your taxes, midnight tonight is the deadline for postmark.� Not having filed her taxes was the least of her worries. She only lost two days. It was 7:30 a.m. and she did remember having a job. Quickly falling back into old routines she walked to the closet and picked out a sundress and grab a pair of tennis shoes and headed out the door to work. Walking to her car, she noticed the two unread newspapers and her overflowing mailbox filed with little childlike Valentines, each with the word Tag written as the punch line. �Roses are red, chocolates make you gag� �You will run to me soon enough�.� �Tag!� Feeling as though someone was watching her, she headed for her car, fumbling for her keys and unlocking the door. Speeding out of the driveway she drove. Destination unknown and realizing she was safe nowhere, she had nothing to lose, but wasn�t giving up without a fight. Driving most of the day and only stopping for gas, food and to use the bathroom, the sun was reaching the edge of the earth and the moon rising its opposite. Almost like the powers that be flipped a switch the two lane highway shown only through her headlights. As he sits there in contemplation of the events that have transpired in the past few days he realizes he has some emotional demons floating amongst his thoughts of her. She hasn�t responded to his Valentines. He sits and reminisces of days long past when his mortal self was young and whole. He sits and dreams of the woman he once loved. He remembers the day his ill fate of lust and greed put him on the path he travels this very day. Damned to never love but to yearn for all that is not his, soul mind and body it is that faithful day 1885. He lies in the breasts of his sweet love, her milky white skin glistens in the morning light. He breath short and sweet he leaves her to lie there in bliss. Not knowing that once stepping out of their boudoir that he would never feel her touch or speak her name again. The memories too painful to beer he sits there in emotional torment. If he could only this once touch her the way he felt If he could only break this chain of lost love and damned souls. Where was she in this would and would his lost soul be reborn, would she be reincarnated and love him again. He picks up his quill to write another Valentine �The Day Has Come�.� He starts to write but the words do not come to him as easily as they once did, he sits and contemplates his next words but nothing flows through his pen in 3 forceful strokes of his quill he scratched into the parchment T A G the day has come.
