The Red Light Princess

My face is expressionless: a thing of stone. I’m mastering this moment. She won’t see anything but what I show her.

Men see beauty wherever they can get it. But that’s the allure of the Red Light Princess. Like any good whore, she’s whoever you want her to be.

Men started praying to you, begging for a taste. That legend of yours spiraled out of control. You gave the people hope. They were told you were all they ever needed.

Hannibal knew your beauty was trouble. Only bad things could come from such a pretty girl. You were made for temptation. You would be a source of jealousy and greed. Men would lust, plot and kill to claim you as their own. He decided to place you in the public domain and donate your body to the pimps as a gift to the people.

That girl has done things to your head.' He pats my back, 'Don’t pretend she’s not crawling inside of yours.

They are all cheap copies and every one of them is forgotten.

She knew every single one of us. Gave us the chance to share in her bed. We all took comfort that she was here and we were not alone. The princess had nothing but love to give.

These poor girls are just bad impersonators. They look cheap, really. There’s nothing special about them. They are just reaching out to get noticed. They don’t want to be invisible anymore. They don’t want to get lost in crowds.

These squatters aren’t just aliens, drifters and undesirables. They’re new world barbarians, conquering free spaces and making them their own.

There’s fear and violence under the surface. One always follows the other.

We build up celebrities easily here. They tower above us on the public screens: huge and terrifying and out of our reach.