Posted by Rache on July 18, 2001 at 06:54:58:
(f,gun,suicide)
A song I like
Fiction by Rachael
It's strange how you can live with someone for so long and never really know all of his secrets. Rachael had been living with her father forever, since the beginning of time 19 years before and she'd never known there was a gun in the house. She found it quite by accident, not snooping or anything. Oh, she'd done her share of adolescent investigation into her father's things before. Looking through his closet, his dresser, even the desk in his study. It was only natural she'd supposed, a curiosity to see her father in a new way. But she'd never found anything very interesting and she was beyond that now.
In the basement, above the small rough wood workbench, high on the top shelf. Rachael had been looking for a wrench, of all things, and after picking through the toolbox on the floor she stood up and saw something new. She'd never noticed the wooden box before. Perhaps she hadn't been tall enough to see it high up against the wall. Or possibly she hadn't been tall enough. Or, more likely, it simply hadn't been there before.
Rachael stood on the stool, stepping carefully onto the bench. It really wasn't that high, but high is relative, especially for someone 5'4". She lifted the box and set it down on the bench before climbing back down. It was wooden, smooth and dark with a small metal plate nailed onto the lid. The plate had the meaningless words "Samuel Colt" in large letters and below that "U.S.A. Model 1911". The box was heavy and she lifted the hinged lid slowly looking down at a large blue-black pistol laying snugly in a red felt mold. There were also two thin rectangular magazine clips also held in their own perfectly molded places just below the barrel.
A gun. Rachael had never seen one really, except on television or in the glass display cases at the hardware store. She'd certainly never touched one before and she ran a finger along the simple grooves and rough appendages. Across the intricate checkerboard design on the handles and into the small, not quite perfectly round, opening where the trigger sat. Waiting. A sudden realization, it was waiting wasn't it? Just sleeping peacefully in it's soft dark womb waiting to be woken and held and used. Everything was forgotten now, the reason she'd come down there in the first place no longer mattered. Rachael closed the box and picked it up, turning to leave.
Bullets. It needed bullets didn't it? Rachael set the box back down and picked up one of the magazines, prying it out with her finger. It was light, she looked at the opening of the end, and it was empty. So was the other one. She began searching the basement workshop, slowly, methodically. There must be bullets someplace, she reasoned, why own a gun and not own bullets? It was useless without them, meaningless. No, Rachael could not imagine the temptation to hold a loaded gun denied. Her father would keep the bullets close, easy to reach. It did not take very long, but for her a seeming eternity of looking. In another box, under a clean rag, behind some cans of old spray paint. It was heavy for such a small box, she thought, .45 caliber it said. Fifty rounds, 50 bullets with butterfly wings.
"The world is a vampire...." Rachael sang softly to herself as she carried her new treasures upstairs, into her room. She looked the door, even though there was no reason to. Her father was away on business; no one else would bother her. But she felt better with the door locked. Like a great secret, it demanded that she lock the door. Rachael didn't know what the secret was yet, but it was coming. A whisper starting someplace in the back of her mind and coming like a freight train, crushing reason and doubt. The small voice which meekly suggested she put everything back had been silenced so suddenly and completely she doubted she'd really heard it at all. There was no going back, the world had changed dramatically in the last 30 minutes. You couldn't undo time. You couldn't just forget, could you? No.
"Sent to drain..." The song kept going through her head, over and over as she opened the box of bullets first.
"Secret destroyers..." Rachael spilled them across the soft pastel flowers of her bedspread.
"Hold you up to the flames..." She picked one up and looked at it. It was fat and round and ugly.
"And what do I get..." Rachael set it back down and picked up the gun. She had no idea how to use it. But like any other good American she had seen plenty of guns on TV. She knew the bullets went into the clips and the clips went into the handle. That would be a start, wouldn't it?
"For my pain...?" Rachael picked up a clip and started putting in the bullets, they really only fit one way. She pushed them against the spring, sliding them back into place with small metallic sounds.
"Betrayed desires." Rachael held the clip in one hand and hefted the heavy gun in the other one. She was being slow, careful as she fitted the clip into the dark opening in the bottom of the handle. She pushed it in until she felt and heard it click into place, locking itself home where it belonged.
She looked at the gun and pointed it at the poster on her far wall. 'Tupac - capuT' it said. The letters mirrored. It had made her smile when she'd first seen it. She pulled the trigger and winced, expecting to hear a loud explosion. Her hand jerked at the unexpected silence. The trigger didn't move. The gun didn't fire. She looked at it, trying to understand the workings of it. It couldn't be too hard, she'd just forgotten to cock it, she thought. She held it with both hands and pulled the curved hammer back until it clicked and she felt the trigger jump slightly against her finger.
Rachael took aim again, squinting as she held it at an arms length with both hands. She realized she was shaking a little. She held her breath and pulled the trigger, blinking and jumping slightly at the loud sound of the hammer falling on the firing pin. But again, no sound. No beautiful bullet smashing into Tupac's already dead head. She let out her breath in a long soft whoosh. It was starting to anger her. She looked at the gun some more, maybe she could....yes...the top part slid back, not very easily, but it came back and she could see the round hollow inside. It was empty. There wasn't any bullet where the bullet needed to be. Rachael pulled the top as far back as she could, it pushed the hammer back into position and she could see a bullet being pushed into place. She let it go and the top slammed back into place making a loud and very satisfying chunk. There was definitely a bullet in there now she thought.
She felt her heart beating faster, she had to concentrate on holding her breath, on calming her nerves. Her hands were shaking badly from the excitement. She could feel the warmth inside her spreading, the sudden realization of power that she held. She pulled the trigger almost accidentally, not realizing it and the sudden loud roar of the gun filled the room and made her drop it onto the bed. She covered her ears, too late. A slight ringing remained, only gradually fading from her ears. She could smell the burnt gunpowder and she saw a large hole in the plaster of her wall, about 6" to the left of the poster. She smiled, not a very good shot. But she wouldn't be that far away would she?
The thought struck her like lightening? That far away from...What? And she knew inside what she wanted, she knew what that gun was made for. The only useful purpose it could possibly serve. Rachael got up and went out of her room into the hall, the bullet had gone through her wall, through the bathroom wall and embedded itself in a rough crater on the outside wall next to the bathroom window. She rubbed her finger over the unrecognizable bullet. A messenger of destruction, which in destroying destroyed itself utterly.
"Despite all my rage..." Rachael sang softly, undressing herself. Slipping off her shorts and panties, kicking them into a corner of her room. She pulled her halter top off and threw it without looking. She unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor as she stared at the gun and bullets scattered on her bed.
"I am still just a rat in a cage." She propped her pillows against the headboard and sat back holding the gun in her hands. Her body was flushed, superheated with excitement. It was so beautiful she thought, the most beautiful thing in the world. Rachael saw that it had even cocked itself again, ready for another chance to kill. She brought the end of the barrel to her nose, smelling the almost sweet smell of violence. She pushed out her tongue, tasting the warm metal. It was oily, a little bitter from the gun smoke she thought. She pushed the tip of her tongue inside the small hole, wishing she could lick inside.
She held the gun in her mouth, sucking on it softly, like a pacifier, pushing it slightly back and forth with her hand. The sharp gun sight scraped across the roof of her mouth, cutting it and adding the familiar taste of blood. She reached down with her other hand, finding her nipples had already become hard, aching. She pulled one, twisting and enjoying the sensation. Her eyes were fixed on the gun as she licked along the bottom of the barrel, exploring it.
She moved her hand lower, fingers spread as she felt the soft flatness of her tummy. She could feel the heat inside, the furnace fired by unspoken desire. She felt the light fur of her pubis, the soft swell of her mons as she reached lower, wanting to feel the need between her legs. Rachael cupped her sex, feeling the wetness already starting, the hard throb of her small clit as it pressed against her palm. She moved her fingers in a small circle, around and around the soft folds of flesh. She closed her eyes and imagined the gun in her mouth as a penis, a hardness made to please her. To bring her relief from the emptiness inside.
"Can you fake it..." More words, she slipped a finger inside her wetness, crooking it and feeling the warmth surrounding it.
"For just one more show?" Feeling the hard metal pressing inside her, against the back of her throat. Rachael's finger caressing the gentle curve of the trigger, sliding across it, barely touching it.
"And what do you want...?" Lifting her hips slightly, meeting the pleasing thrust of her hand, her fingers, now two, turning twisting searching for the secret place inside.
"I want to change..." Rachael could feel an orgasm coming, small and teasing. Her breath was becoming ragged, uneven and the butterflies were flying behind closed eyes. Her soft walls closed in, tightening around her probing fingers, sucking at them as they moved quickly in and out, back and forth.
The moment passed but not entirely the pleasure and not at all the need. Rachael pulled the gun reluctantly out of her mouth. She stared at the barrel, wet and shining in softly lit bedroom. It slid down, between her breasts. She was still breathing hard, gasping and she pressed it flatly to her chest, against her heart as it raced. Rachael gripped it with both hands, turning it so that she held it backwards, the handle between her fingers and her thumbs resting one atop the other over the trigger. She held her breath as she started to push against it. She wondered how hard she could push before it would explode in her hands, ripping through her breast and deeper still, into her heart and out the other side. She felt the trigger moving slightly and she closed her eyes, the relief she would feel once it was done flooded her. She could taste freedom and yet, she relaxed her hand, willed herself to stop. She wanted something else.
"Despite all my rage..." The song kept running through her head, she didn't even notice that she was moving her lips silently to the voices in her head. Rachael moved the gun lower, dragging the sharp front sight across her skin, leaving a thin red furrow across her stomach and lower.
"I am still just a rat in a cage." She bit her lip and watched with interest as her hands twisted the gun, moving it this way and that as she fit the barrel between the nether lips of her sex.
"Tell me I'm the only one..." She closed her eyes as the cool metal entered her fully, the hardness opening her more than her fingers could ever have done.
"Tell me there's no other one..." She felt the oddly shaped object, so much like a man, invading her. She felt it, the hardness, the strength, the destruction being held carefully in check until it couldn't be stopped. She was powerless over it, the way she'd always been with every man in her life. Rachael closed her eyes and pushed the barrel deeper; she wanted it inside her.
"Jesus was an only son...Tell me I'm the chosen one." Rachael felt it tearing her softness inside, the uncaring metal cutting her, making her bleed. She pulled the gun out and saw a little blood running from her sex. It reminded her of her virginity, lost in some forgotten bed with some unknown man. How much better this time she thought and jammed the gun deeply inside, hurting herself deliberately, wanting to feel it. To be reminded that she could still feel something, even pain.
"Jesus was an only son...For you." She was making love to herself now, moving it in and out, the pain forgotten with the knowledge that she would at last have the release she'd sought for so long. How many guns had been inside her? Promising to give her what she needed and always failing, always leaving her breathless, hurt and angry. Filled with meaningless sperm, protected by pills and immune from love. This time would be different, Rachael promised herself, this time there was no contraceptive that would keep her safe and ready for someone else to use. Tonight she would conceive and birth and die.
"And someone will say..." She closed her eyes, pushing her head back, arching her spine as she thrust the barrel deeper and deeper inside, her finger on the trigger. Rachael's other hand on her breasts, squeezing them, rubbing them, caressing and loving herself, She was possessed by it, no, not it she told herself. It was he, finally, coming to claim her. To fill his new bride with his seed. Rachael rocked her hips, feeling the strained muscles inside her trying to grip the thing between her legs. The soft walls being torn and bruised by his assault, jamming him deeper and harder as the fire peaked inside her.
"What is lost can never be saved." Rachael dug her nails into her breast, tearing at herself, crying out as she felt her finger tightening on the trigger. Her heart threatened to burst as it pumped hot blood through her body, filling her with a sudden lust to be embraced. Rachael stared at the butterflies filling the infinite blackness. She had her eyes tightly shut, but her eyes saw them, brilliant beautiful butterflies, coming closer...Surrounding her as she squeezed the trigger. No, not butterflies. Rachael moaned with the rushing orgasm as it swept through her. They were bullets, shiny and hard. Bullets with butterfly wings.
I still believe that I cannot be saved
I still believe that I cannot be saved
I still believe that I cannot be saved
The End
rache@envy.nu
Special thanks to:
Stan "zillaX" in the "Guns!Guns!Guns!" chatroom for giving me a clue
My dear friend Billy Corgan (although he doesn't know me) for the song
Mr. Sam Lisker at www.coltautos.com for providing wonderful technical information. Don't try to steal his gif though!
p.s.
Bullets with Butterfly Wings is on the Smashing Pumpkins CD "Mellon Collie and The Infinate Sadness"
Buy it. If you can't buy it. Steal it.