Homeland

Letter 6

Citudaolle,

            Just now the most curious thing happened.  A girl approached me.  It has been a long time since a human willingly talked to me, and held a conversation for more than a single minute.  The fact that she dared approach me is very curious.  But she, herself, was also quite odd looking.

            Though I am not one to talk about weird appearances, among the human species.  Everyone is so much shorter than I.  There is a famous basketball player (basketball is a popular sport on Earth, and basketball players are famed for being extremely tall).  His name is Yao Ming, and he stands two heads above most of the human population.  Yet I stand another half a head above him.  Humans also consider me very thin.  They say I am sickly thin.  I’ve no fat on my bones.  When I left you I had little.  Since then I have tried multiple times to kill myself (the last time a few centuries ago), one of the attempts being to starve myself.  I found I need no sustenance to survive.  And being I have but a single part-time job (I could easily work forever, as I do not tire, either, but that would attract attention.  A mere child earning billions.  It would most assuredly attract unwanted interest), I feel no need to waste money on food.  Now I have no fat, only tightly packed muscle.  My breasts are also substantially smaller than most humans.  As if I needed more reason to stand out, my strong cheekbones and jaw line, standard to most demons, are considerably sharper than most humans.  My eyes thin eyes are matched only by East Asians, and even then my pale skin prevents me from blending in with them.

            This girl is also very tall.  Perhaps even taller than me.  Her deep auburn hair is shoulder length, and wavy.  Her skin is very pale, and she is also very thin.

            All this I absorbed in a single glance.  After letting those thoughts run through my head, I bent my head back down and tried to continue reading.  But for some reason, I couldn’t.  I was very wary of this girl.  I tried to convince myself that she was merely walking past me, and she wouldn’t really dare to approach me, but as I sat on the wooden bench outside Stanford’s (my college’s) main building, I could feel everything from the slight breeze, the intense sun illuminating the pages of my book, to the coarse brick behind my back.  I couldn’t concentrate on my book.  Then I felt her sit down next to me. For a while I pretended I didn’t notice her, but finally I leaned back into the sturdy red brick behind me and let out a sigh. 

            She took this as an invitation to speak.  “What are you?”

            I raised my eyebrows at her impudence.  “You mean who.”

            “No.  I mean what.  I already know who you are.”  She smirked, as if proud to prove me wrong.  “You sit in the back of my European History class.  Very back row, inside corner near the wall with the door.  Never have anything but a book, a pencil and a notebook with you.  You don’t listen, and shake your head often, like the teacher got a fact wrong and you knew the correct version.”

            “You do realize how much of a stalker that makes you sound like.”  Had she been watching me every day?

            “So I’m a stalker, you’re not a human. Don’t even try to deny it.”  She is a very insistent person.

            “We don’t even know each other.  Why should I let you in on my deepest secret?”  I said, pretending to simply humor her.

            “I’m Alistriona Presidium.  You’re Alina Sempre.  Now we know each other.  So… where do you come from?”

            She was extremely forward.  I decided to tell her the truth, and hope she took it as a lie.  “I lived the first 947 years of my existence in Hell.”  I stated, and smirked. 

But Citudaolle, she didn’t exactly take it the way I’d anticipated.

Khlamuherguetora

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Bleh.  Feeling ill.  Not a happy camper right now. But I hope this was a good letter... what do you think of Alistriona?