Darkness in Stigmata

The weary sun began to slowly dip beneath the earth painting the sky sickly orange, wayward shadows of pigeons slowly dissolve into the waning light. The masters of the nights begin to emerge in sultry silhouette after eating their fill of tasteless kibble and leaf littered bowls. The flowers once thrust open like the minute shields of fairies splashing specks of colour into the never ending seas of grey concrete begin to envelope themselves in silken petals. The mad frenzy of the ant farm was slowly halting preparing for slumber as business workers in the rigid garments, cup of fragrant java and cigarette smoke that hung about them like an exotic perfume were returning to their lairs for satiety of soggy 2 minute noodles wielding their mighty sporks.
Bit by bit as the luminous gems of office buildings descended into cooling darkness eventually leading to pure and unadulterated black.
But deep in the bowels of the darkness, a dim light glimmered in the engulfing masses of jet.
Inside a slight haggard figure sat, hunched over and typing madly onto a cheap muddy grey keyboard, the sound of the tap dancing keys echoed throughout the doll’s house apartment with a groovy tap tap tap, and the ominous willow wisp aura radiating artificial light from the computer screen dappling the pungent apartment in an eerie luminescence. Squinting through a blur of weary eyes and ill-fitting glasses from the local chemist, Aino turned off the computer, the dying whines of the monitor strangely heartbreaking as the light was consumed. Delicately she padded and hiked through the great peaks of dirty clothes and scattered art utensils, a packet of copic markers leaking a chemical rainbow into the sullied carpet.
After dodging the mounds of garments she swiftly flicked on the switch of her closet bathroom, she flinched like a lonely leaf in a ferocious gail as she stumbled across the frozen tiles to the bathroom scales.
Stripping down she placed her gaunt little anatomy onto the scale, feeling a bit giddy as the ghastly fumes of ammonia and sick burned her nostrils. She stared down at the fading digital numbers. 38 kg… (2kg down from 5 days ago) bmi 14.7.
She swiftly dressed, leaving the stark bathroom she stared at the porcelain god where she shovelled her head down on a once daily basis, finding comfort as the forbidden meals caressed her throat, tears cascading down her burning cheeks into the fiery cauldron brew of pre-digested food and foul smelling bile, a car battery mix of useless calories and overrated vitamins (which could be easily sourced from a pharmaceutical supplement).
With the deed done she solemnly exited, pleased with her recent loss, disappointed she hadn’t dropped more.
A sharp biting agony writhed in her bowls and howling sorrowfully (she was hungry), she descended into deep philosophical though debating whether she should satisfy the beast or go without, debating the caloric value of sickly fat free yogurt over dry tinned tuna. At long last she decided to treat herself to some grapes (not that she deserved it).
With an artful balancing act of plopping each succulent pod into a cracked porcelain cup until she had exactly thirty, shivering with excitement with each split of the plastic skin enveloping her tongue in an utopia of sweet juices and sugar (2 calories per grape, day total 250).
With exhausted limbs Aino crawled into bed, after crunch after crunch in front of the judging eyes of late night TV hosts, she shivered as her clammy skin pressed against the cool sheets of a clean bed, closing her eyes and smiling to herself as the wondrous scent of fresh laundry tickled her nostrils.

Deep into the bowels of night she awoke and stumbled to the bathroom through the shroud of her bedroom, her worn pyjamas pasted to her skin with feverish sweat. Clambering into the bathroom to what she thought was the after effect of the Faustus deal she took with her laxatives, too weak to flick on the lights she prepared herself. She waited; face resting on the disinfected toilet rim, its cold touch soothing her burning forehead.
As time took its sweet time to pass she watched as once common black morphed into bizarre and fantastical forms before her eyes, she didn’t care though she was so very tired and wished to return to her cooling bed, suddenly a harsh yowl echoed through the quiet apartment startling Aino and causing her to slam her sweat matted head onto the sink. Taken aback she soon returned to reality as she felt the warm trickle of crimson blood down the side of her face sullying her white garments.
Faux cautiously she gracefully lept (fell) out of the bathroom into the abandoned corridor. She gingerly changed into grimy sweater and wrenched on her tattered black slippers, the soles partially bald with overuse.
Silently she stepped into the frozen air and tip toed down the icy iron stairs not bothering to lock the door now agape like the ravenous mouth of a baby sparrow. Quaking violently she scanned the night drenched city. Aino shuffled along the pavement searching for the source of that horrifying yowl, occasionally she pressed a frost bitten finger against the little crusty wound on her head wincing as it pulsated pain along her nerves.
The essence of the awful cry still echoed through the streets, tracing its pied piper call the girl came across the apartment rubbish dump, the nauseating scent of rotting vegetables and week old Chinese takeout coiled into her mouth and up her nose making her choke on invisible vomit. She could imagine the maggots milky little grubs gorging themselves on the festering banquet, repulsive. Endeavouring through the overpowering stench Aino scraped and searched for the source of the disturbance, her limp hands tore apart a wall of cardboard and newspaper to reveal a pair of shining emerald eyes gazing up, intrigued Aino gently clasped the feline in her freezing hands. Its sparkling irises surrounded by a sea of soft jet fur, a little pink nose twitched, a silken tail batted against her sweater sleeve.
She stood there in the inky streets cradling the cat, at peace as it stroked its head along her xylophone chest its gentle meow comforting her.
Normality, now just a recollection of days long passed.
Memories of warm Sunday picnics and holidays in far off shores, finding glee in biting into sugar encrusted coatings of biscuits, being able to eat bowl after bowl of soggy cardboard cornflakes without counting calories. A normal girl, a nuclear family, she had everything a girl could want but slowly that happy little girl shrivelled away until only a fond memory was left.