From bcash@netcom.com Sat May  8 17:03:52 1999
Date: Mon, 13 Feb 1995 05:10:39 GMT
From: Brian Cash <bcash@netcom.com>
Newsgroups: alt.gothic
Subject: [story] The Gift

The Gift

[windy night...New York City loft...books and furniture scattered about
 the room as if from a struggle or tantrum...curled up in the corner]

I am stunned.
"What have you done to me?"

The cloaked figure calmly walks over to a chair, rights it, and 
sits down.
<I gave you what you wanted.>

My mind reels. My eyes can see colors they never saw before,
and the old colors...they sing out to me. Colors have sound, 
sounds have flavor, odors have color.  My senses explode in
a mess of chaos.  I weep at the wondrous feelings raging
through me.

<You wanted to see Life: now you can.
 You wanted to hold Power: it is yours.
 You wanted to live forever: you have Immortality.>

"But I don't have Life anymore!  Not like I did before!"

<This is better than Life.>

"No! I forsake what you have given me! I will live the good life!
 I will be happy...have a normal job...have a wife...a family..."

<Once taken, the Gift cannot be forsaken.  You will feel the
 Hunger soon.  Then you will be lost.>

He was right...the pull of the Gift was growing within me.
If I could resist, I might be able to live a normal life.
No, that is a lie: I will never be normal again.

<Look what I have for you.>

He pulled back the curtain to the adjoining room. 
In the center of the room sat a nude female, about twenty five
years old.  Before I would have just been sexually aroused, but now...
there was more.  The curves of her form, the texture of her flesh,
the warmth of her life: it thrilled me in new way.  I stumbled
into the room where she sat.

<Go ahead. Enjoy yourself. Let your instincts take over.>

I could tell he was smiling.  Bastard (how I loved him so).

With a slow, steady hand, I lifted the brush and began to paint.

He began to laugh.

Brian /-|-\ "I'm not goth: I'm just wearing black."
-- 
My greatest hope is that people will try to learn who I really am.
My greatest fear is that they might succeed.