A segment from the second chapter of a fictional biography about a character of mine from the Masquerade Project; Toruviel, the Tyrant of the Dying Light, the Dominion of the Breaking Dawn.
Chapter 2: The Host
I’m obliged to introduce myself…
My name is Veronica Burns. I’m thirty-five years old.
The majority of my life is structured around a series of carefully organised routines, developed through professional recommendations and my own personal preferences.
My day often starts at six or seven o’clock in the morning when I get up and go out for a quick fifteen minute jog around the block after hydrating myself with two glasses of water. No more than that, though, as consuming too much water runs the risk of hyper-hydration and can leave you feeling bloated, which would subsequently ruin the rest of the routine.
If your face looks a little puffy in the morning, it often means that your skin is dehydrated, so if that happens to me, I put on an ice pack whilst I do my stomach crunches.
On the face, after I remove the ice pack, I use an oil-free deep pore cleanser, preferably one by Neutrogena or Clean & Clear, whilst in the shower, I use an exfoliating body scrub followed by a moisturising cream. I wash my hair twice with two different shampoos and then a conditioner. Although I prefer waxing, and if I have the time, I will shave everywhere that’s needed and afterwards use body moisturiser.
After I’m finished in the shower, I use an eye make-up remover with either cotton wool or cleansing wipes, followed by a toner, eye cream, facial serum, moisturiser, and finally a neck and chest cream.
I’ve made it a habit to go out to a salon at least once a week and have a pedicure. I also use mint julep facial masks twice a week and a body mask about once a week.
There is a strange sense of disassociation between me and my host body. Veronica’s imperfections, and the meticulous methods she uses to hide them, only compounds this. Though adored by men and envied by women, there is nothing about her that truly defines her as a person. She merely imitates an idealised version of herself.
And though I can hide myself from others, and I can smile, shake hands, and feel the warmth of their flesh gripping mine, and maybe even sense that our lifestyles are probably compatible…
Veronica is simply not here.
Currently there are no comments related to "How to Play God – Chapter Two – The Host". You have a special honor to be the first commenter. Thanks!
Welcome to Authspot, the spot for creative writing.
Read some stories and poems, and be sure to subscribe to our feed!