I got the look again today. A girl two floors down who saw me when I went for the mail. That look. Eyebrow raised. Never mind them. They can’t appreciate beauty, or the time and effort I devoted to following my muse.
It’s here. The last specimen of Smallpox. They nearly killed it all, but I have it. A quick pop into the needle, a little prick, and into my collection it goes, where it’ll be safe. Forever.
Twenty-seven. That brings it to twenty-seven. I’m past contagion plus. I’m jacked up contagion cool.
Skin itches like a bitch, though.
Gosh, the subject escapes me completely…what is happening? ‘a quick pop into the needle’? I like the style though.
At first I thought you were describing a person covered with tattoos. An intriguing beginning, but the rest is confusing. Why is the protagonist injecting smallpox virus? Is he no longer contagious to others?
I’m afraid I don’t get it. I thought it might related to Botox injections — poison for the sake of beauty — but the collecting part doesn’t go with that. Collecting in your immune system? I clearly missed the point on this one.
Ooooh a twisted mind that is inspired to be the vault for twenty seven contagious strains! Yup… I’ll bet it itches. I like the approach you attempted adapt, but too much info is missing to truly get your point across. I do think your writing is good, just not enough to bridge the thought to the deed.
Interesting concept — sort of a very twisted kind of body morphing we see in some scifi/dystopian stories. You quickly established a strong voice for your main character, and while I was curious WHY they would do this, I never doubted THAT they would do it. Well done!