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By Punkerslut
Jenny was good in school. Her parents were proud of her and her grades, and particularly unnoticing of her lacking social relationships. Whenever she got home from school, she would study her school books on anatomy, on psychology, on English, and on the various fields of knowledge which are available from our public schools. She had a magnificent mind, and much of her energy was exerted in long, complicated thought processes. Though not reflective of the age 16, Jenny was tender and untouched. She had never had a boyfriend, and she had few school friends -- most of whom she would only sit with at lunch, and make conversation just to fulfill some primitive instinct of "being with the pack." She knew she didn't particularly like doing this, but still, her life made her happy. Her life seemed to be going completely normal, until one evening when she was invited by her friends to go out at night. She was a shy girl, and the coaxing of her friends made it too difficult for her to refuse. They walked through the night, themselves acting as the various shades of gray and black that made up the gloomy streets. Nine o'clock came around, and it was the plan of one of the kids to go to the cemetery. As they walked through the cemetery, another one mused with the idea of seeing a dead corpse. Jenny wasn't really uncomfortable with the idea, but flagrantly, she regarded it much like she regarded their other hair-brain ideas: stupid and unbecoming of an intellectual. "Guys, I don't think we should be doing this," she said, as they used a crowbar to open up a tomb. Her cries went unnoticed, and they slid open the great, big gray door. They all went in, and Jenny stood outside. But only seconds of loneliness and she didn't like the idea. "Fuck," she said, and she went in, following from behind. Dead bodies were kept in coffins stored in wall cabinets. They quickly took out a coffin from the tomb wall and placed it on the ground. Jenny continued to her pleas, "I don't think this is legal." Again, ignored. They opened the top part of the coffin, and a thick cloud of dust filled the air, blocking all view of the dead corpse. For a moment, even was paralyzed, even Jenny, just looking to see what it looked like. It was a dead body. A male, possibly age 30, with short, black hair. Certainly well preserved. This is what every friend of Jenny saw: a dead corpse. And while all of their eyes were wide with shock and thrill, Jenny saw something more. She saw something different. It tickled her soul, made her silently cry, gave her the rush of adrenaline mixed with a galloping attack of hate and envy, her emotion seething over the cup of life, and being drained in the sewer of our end, of everyone's end. And while her only friend could respond with a chuckle and, "Now that's one dead corpse," she responded with the most sincere of affection, the most undying of desire, the most constant of passions. Looking at the corpse, she was filled with someone that she had never had before. Examining the pale limbs, the aged-makeup on the face, the almost helpless and unmoving nature of the corpse, she saw someone like herself. "Hey, Jenny," one of them said, "I dare you to touch it," but her hand was already reaching towards the dead man's neck. POWER! MEANING! LOVE!!! She was filled with all this as her hand touched the cold, almost jagged skin of a dead man. She squeezed Her friends watched with a glare that only the gods could penetrate. She was focused on nothing but him, the body, the corpse, the lifelessness. But that is what everyone else sees in a dead man. Lifelessness. To her, it was seemingly lifelessness, but she knew that there were passions and memories buried deep within that only some were able to penetrate. And while her friends were incapable of offering her any kind of companionship, she examined the cadaver, its parts, its nature, its once-vibrant existence now turned to death and loneliness and darkness. Pulled back, back, and back again, Jenny was thrown back into the cell of inhibition as she realized her friends were watching her, and she released her grip, which was one heading towards the dead man's chest. They looked at her with an odd glance. "That was too freaky," one commented, with a certain laugh that only a fool can relate to. The total alien experience that occurred to Jenny made her almost like such a laugh -- it was something she could easily grasp onto and understand, and ultimately hate and loathe, unlike what she experience with the carcass. Together, they put the cover on the coffin, but for Jenny the cover would never go back on the coffin. And as they tangible piece of wood constructed for our dead was reassembled, Jenny left something inside with the man who was no longer with us, and similarly, he left something with Jenny that she would never forget. She sat, staring out the window of the car, as her friends brought her home. She slept the sleep of restlessness than night, with tears in her heart and longing in all of her body. She needed that body. She needed it. The next day at school was one where her consciousness certainly did not follow her. She kept going back to that night where they discovered the body. From classroom to classroom and from class assignment to class assignment, but nothing would edge her from the memory buried within her mind of the dead body. Teachers made comments, and of course, there was always the one teacher who would question drug use, and she answered negatively to each inquiry. The storm of last night's passion turned into the hurricane of this day's desire. Love separated only by the cruelty of the public education system. And what did it matter? She wouldn't learn anything anyway. Top of her class, an A+ in every class, no social life, no drug use, no boyfriend, no girlfriend, and just the highway to college and being a doctor. As her eyes rolled across the walls in a lazy style, not looking, not searching, not seeing anything, but her new-found dead friend. His calmness, his surreal nature, his complete serenity in spite of all that has happened. His death, his life, his body was waiting. She wanted it. She had to have it. When she went to Anatomy class, she stole some extra latex gloves and put them in her pocket. She went home on the bus that day, and her heart lit afire as it passed the cemetery she was in. She pushed her face and hands up against the cold, condensation-filled window. A kiss flew to her friend, and she was captivated in thoughts of him, in the sensation of his body touching her hand, of her hand touching his neck, of the cold, lifeless flesh, calling out in defiance of the natural law. There was desire, there was need, there was an abundance of the emotions and passions which find themselves wrapped in the conflict of nature and desire, in heresy of every established creed and obedient only to itself. Jenny went home, she had supper with her family, a slow, malignant anxiety slowly taking over her psyche. And as her mother saw her to bed like every night, her heart beated like it had never done before, her mind full of the desire and displaced with question. She closed her eyes, but not her heart or her need. The door to her room slowly closing with a creak, a single beam of light shimmering through the crack, she waited. And oh, she waited. Minutes passed like hours, as she hoped more and more that her parents would fall asleep, would leave the realm of consciousness just as quickly as she had left the realm of obligation and entered the realm of love, lust, hate, envy, emotion. Nighttime. A timid girl in jeans and a sweatshirt with sneakers left her house, only after slowly closing the door ever so quietly, and then proceeding with running across the street and heading to the cemetery. She came to an intersection, stopped and looked around, taking a deep breath. She was aware that it was against her parents' rules to be out this late, but she didn't listen to their rules any more. Her heart as her only guide, she ran to the cemetery, her shoes pacing against the cobblestone sidewalk. The cemetery was locked up, but she only took a quick look around and hopped the fence as though she had done it a thousand times. Then she ran to the tomb and pushed it open. The crowbar her friends used had loosened it so that little pressure was necessary in opening it. She walked in slowly, hitting a light switch next to the door. Her steps were slow and unnerving. It was almost as if she was walking slowly so she could have time to reconsider her actions before her rendezvous with her love. Turning to the left she saw it: Coffin #6038, the one they had opened the night before. Her small, little body tugged and tugged, pulling the coffin off its cabinet inch by inch, until it slowly tipped and she mustered her strength to pull it to the ground safely and securely. She moved it into place in the center of the hallway, and opened the cover. He was there, still waiting for her like he had been for the passed day. Almost like she couldn't believe it. She touched his cold flesh with her bare hand, her face almost bent on sympathy and love, affection and adoration. There was something she knew, something she didn't know, as she loved him. She sat on his legs, one leg on each side of the coffin as she touched his body. Still almost in a bizarre incapability of understanding the situation, she only knew that she wanted him. She took off his shirt, and touched the skin of the dead corpse. She put her face to close contact with the abdomen, breathing on his skin. Her tongue out, she caressed him with a moist tongue. Her hands slowly glided up and down the chest, feeling the hair, touching the nipples, and then back down again, and again, and again, until there was almost a layer of death on her skin. She kissed his neck, sucked on it, put her arm around his shoulder, loved him. Moments passed and his pants were off. His penis in her hand, there were no objections. No calls for "rape." No pain and no strife, as her hand turned to rapid successions around the penis. She began undressing herself now, kissing his face, sucking on his bottom lip, trying to put her arms around his neck and held him a little tighter, love him a little more. His flesh was becoming warm from the heat of his new-found mistress She rode him, harding and harding, the penetration being something unimaginable but also very real and powerful. Love and lust! Passion and crime! She continued having sex with him, harder and harder, the dark taboo which alluded all of society, as she continued to be penetrated by the flaccid penis, which was not entirely unusable. Harder and harder. Faster and faster. More and more. The sex was too great, it was too pleasurable, it was too much of the love that she had..... but then, she looks to his face, a pale, pasty complexion without movement. And he orgasmed. ... ... ... Jenny kissed him on the neck, one last kiss for the night, for the love, for everything. She put on her clothes, put the coffin back in the cabinet, and took one look at it before turning off the light and leaving the crypt. Crickets were abound outside, as she turned her head left and right to see if anyone had seen her, her arms folded and rubbing against each other in an attempt to catch some heat in the cold night. Then she ran off, the night completely silent, save for her footsteps heading for her house, and the backdrop of the crickets, so noisily chirping. Punkerslut,
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