Scampering down the Walk, a lone fox scavenges for survival, chased off by Burberry-clad local. Pink muscle car bumps past as she scowls hard into it’s broken headlights. This is no place for graffiti visitors, on an AirBNB tour of an abandoned urban skyline. Move along, nothing to see here. We are keeping it real in the concrete ghettos of the soul and this is no place for tartan tourists.
Flashing hearts in this urban jungle, she keeps hers firmly under wraps. Cabs spin past in the burning summer heat; the warmth tempting her charcoal eyes to look beyond the sidewalk. Her love for this sprawling high rise playground is flashing in cold blue neon just outside her window. She will never leave here; this is her patch, her piece of the action. Flash, NYC neon, flash and keep her close to your warm concrete walls.
He woke up with sunshine on his mind and music streaming in through net curtains. As his eyes blinked, he suddenly remembered that he was in Malibu in the middle of the afternoon and that meant only one thing. He slid open the door and stepped out into a fluorescent green lawn, light bouncing off light. He shut his eyes and started to dance and dance and dance. Malibu daylight dancing was always the best and he had forgotten how good it felt. Break dancing in the back yard, he was lost in a world of flora and fauna; a blur of hedonistic dancing joy. He was in sunny Malibu and he could forget about everything for one more day…
‘She was something of a legend over on West Hollywood. It was well known that her skills lay in predicting the future through chipped china teacups. If she liked you…
You entered her small 1930’s bungalow, past golden gilded Indian statues that stared with expressions of wonder and helpless awe. She would glide through to greet you with the haughty air of a forgotten Hollywood diva. She was breathtaking in her beauty, dark crimson lips set off by the blackest of curls. It was rumoured that she took the souls of men that she loved and encased them in gold gilt statutes, forever to admire her, forever to love her. Every man who entered her lair forgot about the rumour as soon as they stared into her dark eyes of seduction.
Beware the West Hollywood It Girl. She may tell you your fortune. Or take your soul for eternity. Her choice. Never yours.”
She still looked more pixie than female; something not quite of this world. She tried hard to disguise the light tips of her ears but even the red mask was no match for them. Donning a black ink feather cape and pearls, she stepped out into the foray, breathing heavily.
The red mask was strangely translucent and hurt her eyes so she stopped to rip a square in it, to allow her eyes to see. Other mask wearers stared at her insolence with disgust. She was well aware that blatant insubordination was a sure sign that she was an imposter but she had to risk it. It was important that she could see properly.
She did not realise that here, in this place, this action would reveal far too much of her pixie soul. An action that she would forever regret.