My Name Is Hemato

My name is Hemato-Tomato, I have a thing for blood.

I used to think it was for decapitation, then I met the love of my life. I wanted to be her shining knight, sing her soft lullabies at night. But I had my own issues that made this difficile. I once thought I liked dead girls, but it wasn’t their rot and stink that appealed to me. It was the idea of being able to hold and embrace them, even if we never met. If not for the fact that I wanted to see their severed heads roll off their shoulders. But I think I’m cured now, for the most part anyway.

But there was a time when I wanted to use them as bowling balls in some imaginary game of bowling, imagining others clapping to their demise, tap dancing in their bowling shoes. But more importantly I didn’t like the idea of being rejected by someone I liked. I thought this was because I didn’t want to be alone, that dead girls could not reject you. But the only one rejecting me was myself. For I only, in all this strange new world, had myself.

I wept tears beyond mortal tears, beyond the ones that most people will ever have to face. The tears of shame and guilt, and falling in disgrace. Falling down into a put down below, away from the Kingdom by the sea. And for me, and my Bride Anna-Marie, there was only death. I wanted a special kingdom for my beloved pride, far beyond the cruelties of this world we call Earth, in some country called France or the United States, or what had remained of it, when the French had taken over what the remnants.

Lost in my own digital sexuality, I prepared for the fall.

But this girl out of time, who would let let me die by her side in this tomb of all tombs, had something else in mind for me.

This is our story:

And in this Kingdom by the Southern sea,

Where sand was white and green.

Beyond the pale horse, with his scythe,

Slicing you in your spleen.

I wanted something different, partially to satisfy my own sexuality. But there was some part of my that didn’t want to admit, that I had fallen in love with this girl that I had grown up with, whom had rejected me, based on this accursed interests in the dead.

I wanted something more.

Not just her head. “Don’t look at me like that Anna. I don’t date girls simply to cut their heads off.” She gave me one of those looks, as if she knew, but was horrified by the idea that I would even have to mention it.

“Maybe not, but look at the stars tonight.” She said, pulling out a joint to puff into the wind. “Isn’t that curious?” She gave me the middle finger, and then went on her way home. We had had issues for some time since I had turned fifteen, but we began seeing each other less once I reached eighteen. What I way to spend a final goodbye.

But I still wanted her.

Even if it was just her head. Or so I thought.