The Sweet Taste of Electricity

S.K. Nicholas

S. K. Nicholas


She got these marks on her arms. Little ones. Little scratches like those you get from bared cat claws, but ain’t no cat done these. These done by glass, maybe scissor. Could be she dragged the instrument over that pale flesh cause she was bored. Could be she wanted to fight pain with pain. Or maybe she like the idea of having some tribal scars to show the world she primal and she know what it like being alive and fighting the real fight. She put some colour on her face. She lay on her back and finger herself watching what’s going on in a mirror. She placed it at the foot of the bed, and as her fingers conjure startling visions, and strange sensations tingle upon her lips, she bite her tongue between her teeth so intrigued by what she sees. She make quite the mess. There be dirty…

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