The perfect body before him will
soon be his. He just has to figure out how he should dispose of his own. The
window is open with the curtains pulled back allowing for the cool evening
light to shine through into the single room apartment. The sound of passing
cars and the chatter from passing strangers make up the hum of the city.
William leans back in his plastic chair musing at the weapons spread out neatly
on the white folding table. The perfect body and his soon to be new self sits
peacefully nude in the other chair across the table. It sits in silence
seemingly asleep with a plastic smile. It is younger with thick dark hair and
has sharp features with broad shoulders. Best of all it has a six-pack. William
had always wanted a six pack and now he is finally be getting it. Sometimes he
imagines The Perfect Self, as he has been calling it, agreeing with him. It too
agrees that indeed, it, The Perfect Self is far more superior compared to him.
William does not mind his new companion’s cockiness because he is sure that his
Perfect Self is right. He knows by now that it has a slightly improved likable
personality that surely others would enjoy. By their late interactions The
Perfect Self may even be smarter, though he suspects The Perfect Self to be
cheating when it came to card games. Rubbing at his protruding dark veins on
his forehand William thinks back to the recurring nightmares. The dream is
fuzzy with somebody unknown. The death was always out of his hands. The feeling
of powerlessness always lingers past the point of waking but things are
different now that he has The Perfect Self.
“The process will be like a
caterpillar changing into a butterfly.” The man says, disrupting the silence in
the shadowing room. The evening light glows and shifts over the body making it
appear to shrug at the statement. Despite The Perfect Self’s disinterest
William continues to add another example to the process. “Think of it like
this. A Phoenix. It dies and in a blaze of fury it is reborn.”
“Maybe”, speaks his Perfect Self
thoughtfully with a deep, husky voice compared to the William’s own gravely,
shrill voice. “Snakes, did you know, they shed their old skin and becomes like
new.” Hell, thinks William. He fucking hates snakes. The lighting lowers to the
body’s shoulder making it appear the body is moving forward to examine the
tools before him.
“How about
the knife?” William imagines the Perfect Self say. “It could be fun.”
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“You
think?” He questions pulling at the bits of his own stubble until a place of
his chin becomes raw. William imagines this place on his face becoming infected
and then spreading across his body after his death, leaving nothing behind but
a pile of yellow festering pus.
“Yeah. Just
picture pregnant Jenna finding you in the morning. Her big swollen breast
bouncing about as she panics about losing her chance to bed you one last time.”
William laughs at this and it only becomes worse as he thought of The Perfect
Self playfully pretending to be cupping imaginary breasts.
“Is it
yours?” Questions The Perfect Self. The room collapses to dead silence. William
moves forward placing his weight against the table. His index finger tapping
the blade until it makes a deep enough cut to draw blood. Of course it was,
William thought. Whose else could it be?
“This
method could be painful.” William admits, thinking about laying in the liquid
of his own blood drowning.
“I guess
you’re right.” The tone of voice The Perfect Self returns to its usual playful
tempo. “Plus you could end up with
bathrobe Joe coming in instead. Just think you could have his testicles
dangling over your head if you somehow fall onto the floor.”
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“Stop.” The
man responds swiftly, feeling his face crawl with the idea that ball sweat
could be dripping onto his face as he lays hopefully dead so not to be able to
smell the salty musk. “Who knows, maybe it’s Bathrobe Joe.” The Perfect Self
says, not changing it’s smiling expression.
“What? The baby?” Questions William.
Joe? Bathrobe Joe? Hell no. That man can’t utter a word without it becoming a
stutter and his looks despite him being younger, let’s face it, has a close
resemblance to a dried up tanned manatee. And he’s always wearing a fucking
bathrobe. No woman would touch that.
Luckily the shine off the revolver
brings back Williams thoughts to the greater task at hand. “In one of my
dreams.” William said. “ I was shot. I don’t know about the gun either.”
“Why do you
have it as an option then?” Asks The Perfect Self.
William shrugs not certain himself,
but he figures The Perfect Self deserve some kind of response. “I like the idea
of having the option.” With that, the only other option on the table is the
rope.
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“It could
be a quick death.” Encourages The Perfect Self, with a tone that almost seems
to have too much interest by the idea of William swaying off the ground with a
rope gripping tightly around his neck.
“I have heard that people piss
themselves during this kind of death.” William responds, wavering from the
idea. The mental image of him being soiled with saliva dripping down of his
face does not sit too well with him. “I can hear them now talking at my
funeral, William, I knew him well. He smelt of piss.”
“You know,
no one would have to find your body.” Reassures The Perfect Self like a true
friend. “I could just hide it. I will just tell people I-you had plastic
surgery. Took vitamins. Did some exercise. We will continual living like
nothing ever happened.”
“Maybe.
Maybe- The dream you know-” The man pauses feeling foggy. “Sorry. I have been
having trouble thinking lately.” William stutters feeling something growing in
the back of his mind and he starts to laugh to some unknown joke. It could be
about Jenna or Joe. Was it about The Perfect Self or was it about him? William
jerks, and forces himself to sit silently in his chair.
“That’s
okay. I am here now,” The Perfect Self responds still holding its plastic
smile. The evening has almost faded completely, save for some streams of blue
light that shifts across The Perfect Self’s body making it appear that it was
moving closer. William doesn’t move as The Perfect Self pushes itself over him
with its hands spread gently across his throat. William allows himself to lean
back in his chair still trusting that The Perfect self will give him a
dignified death like any true friend would.
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“It’s okay.” The Perfect Self repeats. “It’s okay.” I know
thought William. It’s okay.
Blood oozes from his throat as The
Perfect Self dug its thumbs inside. For a brief moment William struggles in The
Perfect Self’s grasp, forgetting that this was what he wanted.
In the blacken silence of the room, The Perfect Self
whispers to itself, “Hello, I am William.”
Kristina Spears grew up in a small town in Ohio where she enjoys spending most of her time outside even if that means taking her laptop with her. She attended Miami University and graduated from the writing program. Kristina has a love for writing fantasy and science fiction. With an obsession in the supernatural, horror, and messed up stories, these themes tend to make their way into her writing.
So here is our last installment of our AI journey exploring the idea of Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad wolf being one and the same. All of these are based upon the AI generated art and prompts using NightCafe and then created as posters in Canva. Feel free to check out Part 1 and Part 2 of this exploration if you missed them.
A non sequitur I know, but I couldn’t resist. If you picked up where we left off you’ll get it.
Seriously?! Again with the cropped off head cop out…
Finally! That was a journey. And not even worth the result, in my opinion.
Anyway, here is a bonus montage I made out of a bunch of additional Red Riding Hood prompts for an article that never happened…
Prompts for Montage:
1.) What if Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf were one and the same being? 2.) Her wolf face peering out of her red cloak, fangs dripping with the blood of another victim, lost in the forest and never found. 3.) Little Red Riding Hood closes in for the kill, lunging from her red cloak, her wolf fangs dripping with blood. 4.) I am Little Red Riding Hood. I am the Big Bad Wolf. I am coming for you. 5.) Howling within, the rage sears forth from the red cloak, discarded in the deep woods. Red Riding Hood succumbs to the lycanthropy. 6.) Heaving breaths. Dripping blood. Red Riding Hood is not what she appears. She is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. 7.) Her red cloak masks the fangs hidden below the surface. 8.) It starts with a long sighing breath. Waiting. The wolf within stirs. 9.) Red Riding Hood trembles. She succumbs to the lycanthropy. 10.) The wolf bursts forth from within. It takes over Little Red Riding Hood’s mind, her body, her being. 11.) Red Riding Hood howls. She is ravenous with hunger for blood. The wolf within has taken over. Mind, spirit, body. She feasts on the blood of the moon. 12.) Big Bad Wolf Red Riding Hood ravenous blood moon feast 13.) Blood moon beckons. I. Little Red Big Bad Riding Hood Wolf. Freedom howling night curse. 14.) Beware. Bewolf. BeRedRidingHood. Betwixt. Beyond. 15.) I pad quietly as the forest dissolves around me. Red Riding Hood and Wolf, one and the same. 16.) Wolf within howling dark recesses of the mind, Red Riding Hood lost 17.) Red Riding Hood HOWL wolf bane true existence polymorph within-and-without. 18.) Red howl Riding Wolf dark existence brooding within
Continuing our AI journey from last time exploring Little Red Riding Hood herself as the Big Bad Wolf… All of these are based upon the AI generated art and prompts using NightCafe and then created as posters in Canva.
How very… Phantom of the Opera predatory… this is definitely not what I had in mind. Maybe something more cutesy?
Ugh. Maybe not.
Wow, that seems like such a cop out, cropping off the head so you don’t have to depict it. And I don’t want to lose the Little Red Riding Hood reference completely.
So no surprise there, I knew that was too many references to work.
And as promised in Big Bad Poetry, we shall embark on our next AI journey, this time looking at Little Red Riding Hood. I had wanted to depict her as the Big Bad Wolf one and the same, although maybe not so big nor bad. But it just wasn’t happening quite as planned. All of these are based upon the AI generated art and prompts using NightCafe and then created as posters in Canva.
So I actually like this even better than my original vision, it is playful and even a bit serene (especially given the Sinister style). The wolf is just being a wolf. It’s quite lovely, really. But it wasn’t what I had in mind, so I revisited the idea later to see if I could get that result…