Yerba Buena, 2011: Introducing Gifts Through The Eyes—A Devil of Venus

Our first Devil is an easy one. Nico spots it looking at her from the flat roof of an apartment as her light rail car sails past. Gifts Through The Eyes is a pest most common to more loosely packed, lonelier urban areas. Yerba Buena is too fast and anxious of a longing ecosystem to support the aimless needs of this particular devil of Venus Forest. Nico is less than surprised though. There’s room for all the shades of the yellow of Venus’s gold in Yerba Buena.

Nico gets off on the next stop. It’s a compulsion. She notices the devil and now she has to kill it. She can’t leave it alone. That’s part of their trick, but Nico can’t help herself anymore. It’s a waste of her time if you calculate the time to the energy to the profit, but if that logic could save Nico she wouldn’t have dedicated to venus running down her left thigh. So she goes.

The trees are black green in the night, the ones that know what season it is, as most aren’t from here and haven’t learned there’s no winter; by the time it feels like fall spring is a few weeks away. A tree that’s trying to shed leaves and grow flowers at the same time fills Nico with pity. Humans will find a way to teach it how to properly adapt one day.

Gifts Through The Eyes takes the form of a faraway deer with a yellow smile. Its teeth are long. Its skin is a soft brown stone that feels like wood and comes off in layers. This one’s horns are almost gone, so it’s especially worthless and has done almost all the damage it can do. Nico knows that but she still has to kill it.

The devil is always faraway. There’s no getting close to the devil until it is dead. So Nico is looking for an angle. She’s tricking it into a line between them. It has to put Nico above it and it has to put the devil below, but it must be mostly straight. The vertical most be wide but the horizontal must be narrow.

Nico spots it at the end of an alley. That’s not ideal but it’s probably good enough. She takes out a chain and at the end of the chain is a small weight of the same dull warm ivory. She spins it in the air and catches the streetlight with it until the weight is thick with it and the alley is nearly dark, and then she lets it go, and it sails into the yellow smile, and there’s a thud, and then it’s dead.


Aevee Bee

Aevee Bee is a flannel vaporwave queer and the editor of ZEAL, an online micro zine with cool art and games coverage of overlooked games from exciting new writers and artists. She runs an extremely self-indulgent twitter account and tumblr, contributes regularly to Paste magazine, and freelances in the odd corners of the web. Mammon Machine is her horrifying aesthetic.