Izabella

I finally made it home Monday morning when Bill and the storms let up. He was the gracious host. We ordered in, watched movies, and had enough sex to run through his condom supply and mine.

It was dry, the sun was shining and I was starting to smell. Three days with the bare minimum of a hygiene routine was not exactly what I had in mind, but I’ve always managed in a pinch. Coconut oil, salt, and a spatula work rather nicely to make a quick salt scrub. Apply, then scrape off. Very short term, but effective.

My setup at home was slightly more elaborate. I peeled out of my dress and undergarments. Tossing them in the general direction of the hamper on my way to the spare bedroom. If someone came into this room, they might think one of two things. A - that I have chinchilla somewhere, or B - that it’s a very large litter box.

The truth is, it was for me. The fine granules of sand with the silica restored my connective properties. In addition, it acted to remove odors, foreign bodies, and particles. I knew the basics of how I worked. I could let things pass through me, molding myself around them. With sand, it was more like sifting myself through it.

I stepped into the center of a large sandbox. I concentrated for a moment and my normal shape dissolved into a pool of sentient liquid spreading out across the surface of the fine grains.

My memories have very little about who I was or what happened to make me like this. I’ve tried different things to remember. Meditation. Drugs. Hypnosis. Someone created me, but no one has stepped forward to claim me or tell me who I was before this. I’ve stopped looking for answers.

I’m originally female. Somehow my form always snapped back to the pattern I first remembered seeing in a mirror. I looked human enough. Though my skin has different properties. I can make it opaque, but normally, I’m much more translucent. I’m mistaken for a vampire a lot, if only because my opaque looks seem to resemble someone without a working circulation system and lack of sunlight.

Sometimes I think I look more like a black and white drawing come to life. The dark smudges under the pale off white, with veins of dark blue and black. Or maybe I’m more like a statue carved of marble. Its been me for so long that even the temporary shifts I do to look like someone else are fun, but I am grateful when I shift back to what I recognize as myself.

When I liquify myself, I have no idea what my body does. I don’t know if I have organs any longer, but when I return to my shape, I breathe, I eat, and have a pulse. I wonder if someday I won’t remember this shape. I wonder if I’ll only be a pool of sludge and fibers in a large bin of sand.

I try not to think about it as I sink through the sand and spread myself out to incorporate the sand throughout my form. In about an hour, I’ll feel cleansed. The silica reinforces my connective properties and I’ll be able to crawl into bed and sleep. I could sleep in the sand, but I think it might be something leftover in my brain that doesn’t find it comfortable for some reason. Though the longer I go on, I wonder if that will change too.

Bill hasn’t asked me what I am, or if I have a last name. He’s managed to stay in the moment. I don’t know if that’s who he is or just how demons are in general. I do have to admit, once I crawl into bed alone that I miss his ever-present heat. It was like having a body shaped stone to curl around that kept me warm.

I think to myself, and not for the first time since I met Bill, that this Nathan person was an idiot.