Blood Soaked and Gone, Blood Soaked #3 will appear on 2/17/15!
Would life be complete without a teaser? Probably not!
My right arm stands out. It is matte black, the way that stretched latex is. In fact, some people have asked me if I’m a rubber fetishist.
I’m not. I wouldn’t know what a rubber fetish is if it sauntered over and stuck it’s tongue in my ear.
Truthfully, I’d probably squeal.
When you take a closer look at my arm, you can see the fibers and crystal-like formations that spread across the surface of the “skin.” Then it is completely apparent that my limb isn’t rubber, silicone, or some high tech textile wizardry; it is something else.
The same goes for my right eye, except that it behaves in typical ways, and for the most part, looks normal. Yet, if you pay attention, you’ll notice that the pupil doesn’t react to changes in light—it doesn’t need to. That’s been known to bother people. All I can do is shrug because I can’t do anything about it. I’m just happy it looks like a normal eye most of the time.
There was a time that it was just as black as my arm. You’d think I mugged a gothy teenager in a shopping mall. Luckily, I convinced it to look more like a regular eye. The arm, on the other hand, resists persuasion.
I can’t remember how many times I’ve asked myself if these body parts are me, or if they’re something else. I imagine if they were traditional prosthetics, it would be an easy answer. You pull your artificial limb off, stand it in the corner, or lay it on the bedside table, and you know you stop where your physical body ends.
What are these parts? They’re not prosthetics, even if I can detach the arm—I can still move it, even when it isn’t in the same room as the rest of me—I know how I got them, and where they came from, but defining them eludes me.
Don’t ask me about seeing with my fingers. I don’t like talking about it.