A cruel smile played upon those lips. Those lips that had spoke
so many words and yet said so little. The light shimmered off the
glasses, obscuring the view into those pools of brown.
What're you doing? The blonde asked curiously. He watched
from afar, not entirely sure how much into this he wanted to get.
He wasn't even sure what was happening.
Oh you know.. playing around. Playing around, playing around
as a mastermind plays with his pawns. The rooks, the queens.
Each one has a role. Sacrifices must be made.
With what?
My camera. He could splice and dice, he could create entire
alternate universes, conversations, people that had never been
there. That girl in the background, all fuzzy and faded out? Watch
her become the new star.
Why do that?
Because I can. He split a strip in half and placed it somewhere else. He had a imagination. He had nothing else. Imagination.
The blonde pressed his sweaty hands on a table, they left reflections of themselves. Besides that.
I don't want to tell you. He was feeling mean today. He was feeling powerful. Absolutly. The blonde had just been deleted. Gone, vanished and left but a ghost. A millisecond. A subliminal message.
Why not?
Because I don't have to.
Why won't you tell me? I'm not gonna be creeped out. Heh. Fat chance. The blonde's heart already pounded. Never had he been frightened of his companion.
It's not that important. He sneered slightly. He didn't want to share his joy. Watch me, he thought. Watch me, for once in your lives, watch me. You've watched my failures, now you can watch my downfall.
Then why won't you tell me? The blonde watched him take a match and burn a section of film. It twisted and contorted itself. The blonde could almost feel the heat prickle against his skin.
He watched it with pleasure as it flailed desperatly against it's fate. Done with. Another person cut out of existance. Shut down. He chuckled to himself.
What're you laughing about?
Nothing. Nothing at all.
Why are you being evasive? The blonde had nothing certain to say. He spoke in questions where the answers were provided for him. He didn't need an opinion.
Because I can. He dropped the flaming film into the trashcan. It extinguished itself and he went back to his work. His skull ached. The little still people tormented him endlessly, yet he loved them. Loved them still.
Can I watch it when you're done?
You won't be there. I'll have deleted you, he thought to himself. Gone forever, burned into a twisted plastic.
You gonna show it everyone else?
He sliced frame out, adding another one in. Christmas and New Year's combined. Another ghost.
Will you talk to me?

Why not?
Because I can. He suddenly froze, mid scissor cut. Why was he cutting out other people? It was himself that deserved to be gone. The film maker. He took the film and dumped into the trash, throwing a match in as well. Gone. The film maker gone. Who needed him. The blonde and the film maker could rest together intertwined in ashes forever more.
The flames illuminated the film maker's face, bathing his white skin in an orange light. They burned his eyes. He watched his life go up in smoke. The smell of plastic burned his lungs, he smiled again.
The blonde watched him with a detached fascination. Part of him cared, most of him cared. He worried. He worried very much so. He wanted his companion. The companions lips twisted into a smile that reflected in the angry licks of flame.
Because I can't.