a few weeks ago i was asked to tell a story, through msn messenger. i made up a story on the spot, but only got through two parts. this is part III. i wrote it in notepad one night when i couldn't sleep. i haven't edited the text since, only given it a title. it's also still written in the instant message "blocks of text" style.

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part III - and i know you know it too

simon approaches the back door of the winnebago, looking up at the completely blackened windows. the doorknob feels warm in his hand, and as the door creeps open, a black tar like substance pours out of the camper and onto his shoes. simon steps inside. everything is black.

"oh fuck, what did you do?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

"i read the letter." a voice answers lightly. beth is sitting on the floor, resting her head on her knees. she is completely covered.

"i know. i'm fucked now." he says, only realizing after how completely fucked beth looks.

"i'm sorry"

simon approaches cautiously, careful not to slip. he lifts her head up and wipes the black gel off of her eyes with his sleeve. her eyes are glazed over.

"you'll be okay. can you see me?"

beth answers with a smile.

"i have to take you to the riverbed. the water will clean you."

"no"

"beth, you can't stay like this."

"no, i mean i can't move."

simon picks her up and carries her down the embankment to the river. and only now noticing that her clothes are almost completely shredded.

simon looks down at her in his arms. he can barely recognize her.

"there's a steel train coming through some town somewhere nearby tomorrow. you opened the letter, so you have to be there with me"

"okay"

he brings her carefully into the water, holding her as the current rinses the tar away.

she opens her eyes, clear lucid eyes now. "you're not a demon, are you?"

simon laughs, "i am not a demon."

"but then why am i like this? what happened to me when i opened your letter?"

simon doesn't answer. "you'll be okay"

"i have to take off what's left of your clothes. you can wear my jacket after"

"okay"

simon turns her around, her back to him, and grabs the hem of her tattered sweater and lifts it up and off.

"oh fuck"

"what?"

"oh my fucking god"

"what is it?"

simon traces his fingers between her shoulder blades. "wings...black ones"

"what? WHAT!?"

"i have to cut them off"