I Want to be Adored

And the audience stood gap mouthed and slack jawed watching the magician's assistant attempt to saw herself in half. If the stage hands hadn't wrestled the saw from her white clutching finger tips, she would have succeeded. The blood was pouring from the stage and pooling around black shoes and sensible black socks. Seeping into pants cuffs and making the floor sticky and slick with promise and entrails. Eyes stayed transfixed on the stage; no a single eyelid blinked or looked away. They watched as she sunk the teeth of the saw into her side. They remained unmoving as the blood started leaking from her; first in a slow trickle, building to a gush and then soon a river of red pouring down the stairs and into the aisles. The crowd breathed as one, in and out, as she stood silently counting each individual tooth in her head as it tore through her skin, flesh, and bone.

As burly men in black coats with Security written across the back tore the saw from her hand, a shower of blood rained down on them spraying from only one source. As they tore at her grip the audience stood transfixed slowly growing a deep red coat of her blood. She screamed, "I want to be adored!" as they pulled her away now holding onto her own guts and blood smearing a trail across the stage. She tore at the red, red curtains until they fell from their rings wrapping her in a red shroud, a messiah drug away by apostles of violence and order.

And the audience broke its trance and chanted as one, "We adore you. We adore you. We adore you..." over and over again. And the world split open into a red tide and in a wash of magic and blood drowned the masses clean.