Grey Hair

I sit here on my throne and I look out among my collections, displayed in miniature versions by my screens. So many subjects. So many collections.


And I know this is how I know I'm going to do this.

I select one of my more recent finds and quickly press the delete button. Sapphire. 18 years old. Filmed in Los Angeles, California in late 2008. 20 adult scenes, 14 pictorials. The folder is erased in front of me. I don't feel a sense of loss, but rather a quaint little weight disappearing off of me. As if every file was an extra breath to take, an extra grey hair, another incriminating thing to worry about.

It's as if a switch has been flicked in my brain. Deep in my head, a primitive survival mode exists, and it's been kicked into gear. Jamie, blonde. Gone. She'll be 23 in a month. Shame.

Jennifer's brown hair disappears pixel by pixel and replaced by nothing but empty space.

Vikki's waistline is thrusted into oblivion as the eraser program reaches her subtle little folder.

Jessica's 52nd sexual experience is unrecorded and eradicated.

And frame after frame after frame of Erica drinking coffee, Denise seeing her favorite band in concert, and Lucy wearing a low top at a party, are erased one by one like a flipbook. Moments recorded from innocence are being destroyed as long as years after they were recorded.

Survival mode. Little weights.

My name is Peter Hoskins, and I am 25 years old. Today I will walk out of this apartment and walk past many of my subjects. I won't look at them for long, I'll keep my eyes forward, and although these women might be aware of a presence, although a slight breeze might pass through Eva's blonde shoulder-high hair, Jesse's bouncy brown curls, or Audrina's straight black hair, I simply won't be registered, because I don't appear to be a threat.

But if this all works out and if the time is right, they will.

But right now, I'm in the mood for some of Vanessa before I go any further.

The End

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