Prologue: The Lost
Mirrors, and on spot personal visual inspections, by those that- chance lay eyes upon us.....
They reflect that which is without our being.....
Where is that source of reflection for that which resides within?
Jessica Stone..... Long has she sought the expected solace of the nights fix of abusive substances.....
Single, and unemployed...... No friends to be sought...... No real associations to be stayed.....
No close family to talk to, of which that can be of offer to her in any provisioning system of aid. The thirty year old woman lives where she can, and pays her providers with assurances of bed's frequently made.....
Many times is she to be found hiding, huddled in the corner of- a darkened space.
The woman wondering why she feels as if she is something that is less than human.
She fallen regularly in her deep focus of drug induced dwellings frequently considers, that she is an inhuman abomination, that hides beneath the flesh of a human born face.....
Her face, nothing more than a mask; a menagerie of systematic breakdowns from faith's grace.....
Of extremists actions, by unaccepted religion, was her radically labeled family name so frequently scorned.
Thankfully, at least to her anyway; the woman holds- to no real religion.
Within the pupils, of her foggy blurred, and dilated marijuana- dominated eyes; religious beliefs, they to her, are nothing more than gathering of slaves and of sheep for the procuring of all of their earthly earned possessions.
The shack, she now held up in; it was an abandoned home that had been posted against illegal trespass.
The windows, they were all boarded up. The home itself, it had- remained unpurchased for going on to three years now.
The small little place, it was seen as being more the size of a log cabin, or of that in a large studio apartment; rather than that of an actual house.
This small shack for all concerns, it was now hers. As to the day current, there had been nobody in contention of her place.
Jessica, she felt a lot like the empty house she now rested in. It was hollow. Nothing but her, contained within.
Her, and what- ever she could procure in her past day's allowed necessary appropriations, and business transitions in the form- of drink and of sustenance; from callers- both women and men.
At times of her thoughts, in minded misery, of her retaliations- against her continued existence, the woman frequently thought of death; and of how good by her interests it would actually be.
Quickly consuming the last of her granola bars, and slamming- the last bottle of her stash of stored water, Jessica now crawled slowly upon her knees to reach her makeshift mound padding- and folded bedding place of sleep.
Slumping into the improvised bed, the woman now blacked far away from reality's continuing day.
