Mock Universe in Dallas

What happened is the dead came back to life, my white husband is really black, and he stole my red blood cells intravenously. My husband, Clive Prescott, his face is peeling away in chunks. I found a few pieces on the carpet, under the sofa. I thought they were pieces of beef jerky. Nope, he was sleeping with Medusa and now has jellyfish stuck to his face that are falling off onto the floor. I thought my cousin Courtney’s extensions were gross when I vacuumed a good fourth of her head up last month. 

I dated too much. They all liked Sigmund Freud including my ex-boyfriend from South Africa who treated his sore nose with Cocaine. I tried the coca leaves once and the man had the nerve to call me a drug addict; his use was justified. My first husband, Hayden Crawford, who died eight years ago, I thought so at least, well it turns out he's alive and the son of my current quantum bioengineer husband, Clive. Twisted business. Hayden went into hiding for reasons of his own, and he fed me to his father and uncle for a research project.

Clive and his twin brother, Preston, take turn in their observation and play. I didn't realize how many men I was with. Clive's partner in science crime, his twin is the Dr. Preston Prescott, a famous neuroscientist who fled to Puerto Rico in the 1970’s. He's now back in different flesh thanks to marine life, and now has created a lab for me to live, blind, and keep a close evaluation on my every move. They refer to the project as Sybil. Clever.

Okay, so my husband, Clive Prescott is black, which is not the problem, just thought he would have mentioned something about it. He really caught me off guard when his face started peeling away. I wasn't prepared for that. On top of it he has stolen my red blood cells, and a quantum bioengineer, he created a mock universe that I live within a small lab for Clive and Preston's viewing.

It gets better, but really worse. I can only be seen under a specialized scope. I’m a microbial individual. Yep, made up of bacteria and fungi. Imagine my surprise when I first caught glimpse of what I really look like through a lens hidden and coded in my laptop. I look like a demonic spirit, my bacteria glows. First I thought I was dead, and I panicked and fled from my apartment, the lab, to the airport. I just wanted to depart home. I may have been in a strong magnetic field, near a black hole. I’m unsure where I was or am. I did discover evidence that pointed to me being abducted when I was younger by the Prescott twins. They switched me with a sweet young girl who isn’t made of fungi and bacteria like I am. I found a picture, she looks just like me; I was her clone. I’m not sure where the real girl is. I also found out I actually grew up with my first husband, Hayden, in the fungi farm. Interesting, but difficult to stomach all at once.

I discovered the Prescott’s placed cameras in the lab's four-way mirrors that play disturbing footage. I can’t see the screen, but it plays on in my head. Makes for a confusing reality

Inscripted on my tortured wrist, "Dopo il Sogno"

I stand in our dream home. I look fit to kill In front of the arch in our ivory stone fireplace with carvings that frame it’s structure. It’s very classy like myself, especially today.

 I truly love him, and for the first time I don’t want to run. I cross and hug my arms around and below my chest. The inscription, Dopo il Sogno, after the dream, is tattooed and insulated on my tortured wrist from another time and place.

 I turn slightly towards the left, and expose three-quarters of my face. I look with seduction, my eyebrows are raised and curious, and my red lips don’t open, but they beg to.

 My brunette, wavy long hair is pined up with an ivory flower in bloom. I wear opaque pearls in both my ears. My white gown controls me, the restraints are of eloquence, pearl silk caress’s my curves, and my slender silhouette. Where the creamy silk fabric touches my upper thigh, it flows down, and intertwines until it reaches the thresholds of the marble floor.  In front of me is light, beyond me is shadowed.

 Scott Montgomery brings me into focus and snaps his camera. There is a flash of light. I run through petals of yellow. I have the innocence of two children. Maybe I believe in destiny and happy endings after all.

  “Follow me.” Scott says. He’s in his tux and converse sneakers, he reaches out for my hand. I feel pleasure as mine wraps into his, and he leads me up the winding staircase to our master bedroom.

 We enter the room and connect. “Are you about to manipulate me?” I whisper to Scott. We kiss for a lifetime. 

 I suddenly feel a cold shiver. Seconds later, Scott Montgomery is shot point blank in the head, right between his eyes. In front of my face I watch him fall. He doesn’t speak a last word, bam. He drops dead. His blood splatters across my creamy silk wedding gown. My husband of four hours is dead.

 When I look up, the killer is gone. I know who the man is though. I cross over Scott’s body.  I pull down my hair that is in perfect waves; a real classy wife I was. I part it down the center and destroy the former shape. I look into the mirror my disheveled, risky waves bring me back into a different being. Angela Madison is about to disappear. I slip out of my gown. Keeping my eyes focused where they both should and should not be, I work like a cheetah around the murder scene.

 I throw on an old pair of jeans with my life’s rips and tears in the right knee. I pull over my head a white t-shirt. I locate my brown leather boots, and hop around as I gear in. One last item, a pendant necklace. I stop for a minute to open the locket and I stare at the black and white picture of my grandfather standing behind my grandmother. He wears his navy uniform, and a cornered grin that would make any woman feel uncontrolled, but his arms are wrapped around her, my grandmother; they are in love. I clasp the locket shot and hold it against my chest wear it now hangs.

 I’m in a race with time, thankfully not with light, I think, semi-amused. I run to the closet and find a hidden gem from my past. I can smell the scent of Michael as I slip my arms into the zippered sleeves of my maroon motorcycle leatherjacket. I must create another identity, again.

 I open up a locked armoire drawer and grab a passport and $250,000 dollars; all one hundred-dollar bills wrapped in bands. I place the money into my suitcase. I take one last look at Scott. I kiss my hand and blow a kiss at his lifeless body. “I’m sorry Scott, I should’ve told you who I was.”

 I exit an old life, and I tear off down the road towards Clive’s house. I’ll call a cab to pick me up from there. I can trust Clive; I hope. However, in this game, one never knows.

 There is a price to pay, that I wasn’t prepared for, when you get involved in risky business. A charming man once taught me how to play roulette, I tossed the dice, and from that throw on, my innocence was murdered. Now Scott is also added to the list; he too fell in love with his fate for death.