Her Face was Some Newskool Junk

As soon as Morigan Adonne clapped eyes on little Helen she knew she was going to be one of the most beautiful women the world had ever seen. At first she put it down to the usual pride one bestows in ones own offspring. Yet, as Helen grew, Morigan noticed her little child seemed to draw attention wherever she seemed to go in the big city. Whilst this was pleasing, as complimants are to a mother, there were some whose interest held undertones that were not altogether wholesome. She soon up and left to Foxden Cottage, high in the Yorkshire dales.

Foxden Cottage was the small isolated house that Morigan had grown up in with her mother and sisters. They all still lived there and were more than happy to welcome her back.

The years went by, Morigan fully engrossed herself in the tutoring of Helen, ever careful to keep her child secluded from the local men.

Wanting to teach her child everything, Helen was left very curious as to the ways of the big wide world. One day just after her sixteenth birthday, after numerous arguments, she disobeyed her mother and left.

The world was weird, she did not understand what was going on. Her mother had always told Helen that you had to pay for travel.Yet, drivers of buses, trams and taxis, alike seemed loathe to except money from her. Infact many wanted her phone number so they could return the favour later. Then there seemed to be something wrong with all the peoples eyes, either that or all the men in this area seemed to have some sort of starring disease.

Gil Glengilly strode up the high street, at only fifthteen he was already considered the Don Juan of his year. Gil always had at least five girlfriends and his phone never stopped ringing. Once again his phone sounded the knight rider theme tune as he saw an exasperated but beautiful girl come out of a shop. He turned his cell off, combed his hair over to his favoured side and sauntered up.

At last, Helen thought, I have found a man that isn't mute. Infact part of Gil's brain wanted to shutdown in the face of such awesome beauty, but he had practised long and hard. The mouth was on automatic.

Helen was starsruck, she had had many amorous daydreams but had never talked to a real boy. After some minutes Helen asked ‘I do know its rather rude as I have only just met you, but would you mind if I was to kiss you?.' Gil was dumbstruck. Helen took this as a yes and leaned in. Gil's body was swamped in a wealth of endorphins.

Looking down she saw the boy she had just kissed lying on the floor, comatose. Years later Gil awoke from his hospital bed. He would not be dissuaded, he had had a marriage, kids and a divorce with Helen and he didn't want to see the bitch again.

Morigan spotted her child and bundled her into the car. Driving speedily through the little town she could not help but use her logical instincts and stop at the lights. The journalist from the local paper was on hand to get a shot of this more than pretty little girl.

Running her picture, with some spicing up of her little sojourn in town, brought Your Gazette the highest sales in its recorded history. After that Foxden Cottage did not seem so secluded.

The Agents queue spread out down the mountain. Various tactics were employed to retain Helen as client. The answer from Morigan Adonne was always a firm no.

A week after the encampment of agents had began, Morigan returned home through the turmoil that was their front garden. A stream of offers, speckled with threats, rained down on her before she finally managed to swing her shopping over the hearth and lock her door. To her surprise she found an agent, one Laurence Barstend sitting comfortably in the Cottage's living room. She had not even started to storm over when she was beset upon by her mother and sisters. The family did not want to be poor all its life , here was a chance to get out of the shit once and for all. Besides Laurence was a very nice man. Infact Morigan was too late, apparently they had put it to a vote, and she had lost. Helen's had been the deciding vote.

Everyone wanted pictures and interviews and they wanted them, now. Mr. Barstend was overwhelmed, but he did his best to live up to the family's expectations. He cancelled interviews when he saw Helen was tired, pretended she was ill when the press demanded another photo shoot. Their appetites seemed unsatiable.Everyone wanted a piece of Helen.

Yet, it was all he could do to keep the dogs at bay. Eventually after a year or so of refusals, Laurence Barstend had to accept an offer from one of the multinationals. It was more money than he would earn in a lifetime. Helen was spirited away by execs from Want More in a stream of limousines. Morigan went balistic. Helen told her to mind her own friggin buisness, she was not a kid anymore.

Eric Rogers had witnessed the phenomenom that was Helen, It was unlike anything he had seen before. The people wanted their Helen fix. Put her on a magazine and watch the sales quadruple. Put her in a picture and watch the full houses roll in. Now she was the propery of Want More, he was going to milk her real good.

Helen was in love. The population was in love. She ached for the attention, they lusted for her. As far as she saw it life could not be better

Gradually all her merchandise sidelines were streamlined. The goods that remained could now be purchased at double the price People ate it up Sales tripled. Want More stopped any public appearences and Helen walked round totally screened from view. So that not even her shoes were on show.

It was about then that the victims started turning up. Thousands of poor men distraught, sick, sweating, vomiting, and unable to move. Whispering and screaming one word: Helen.

Helen Stores were held up all over the country. Often the police would turn up to find the thiefs within spitting distance of the shop. Huddeled together, transfixed.Their hands grasping a tiny picture of Helen's new haircut.

Anything to do with Helen was banned for the undereighteens. This was after Daniel Gautier, a twelve year old from Bournemouth was found with his testicles splattered all over the living room wall. Doctors pronouced his death due to an overdose. They blamed the Helen cards.

Eric Rogers made a point of keeping Helen as secluded as possible, but when she heard the news about Daniel Gautier the sorrow made her realise what she had become. She disappeared the next day.

The hunt for Helen Adonne was all the press wanted to talk about. Just about everybody wanted to find her. The most resourcefull detectives, the most hard die hacks and the most hellbent, craving, clucking Hel junkies scoured the country day and night but could not find even a whisper of her whereabouts.

A month after her disapperance, A radio talk show hosted by Michael Owen,on BBC Radio 1 recieved a telephone call. It was vocoded as to not intoxicate the listeners. Helen told the people who were tuned in that she had had it with the lying, kniving, treachous pigs who were the media and then she said. 'Come and play with me my darlings, I will give you my naked body and you will be elated. When your souls rise above your bodies, you will not be discontented because you will have drunk of the irridescent elixir that is my beauty.' Then she explained whereabouts on the Cornish coast they could find her.

The media took Helen's message not as a warning but a comeon and descended on Cornwell in droves.Tailbacks trailed back for miles. Truckers, voyeurs and fans mixed in with cars, limos, vans, trailers and crew coaches from all the worlds media. Want More execs piled into their helicopters and rose into the morning sky.

The paparazzi and harcore Hel junkies formed the first few rows of the audience that waited for Helen to make her apperance. The photographers drooled thinking of the money they would make. The addicts scratched and whined, eager to recieve the biggest Helen hit they would ever get. Some were so expectant they already had their dicks in their hands

Helen Adonne opened the door and walked out her naked flesh the focus of a hundred lenses and a thousand eyes. Her body a sexual communicator. The high like a million simultaneous orgasms.

Genitilia flew through the air as sexual organs exploded all over the place. The rush too strong. The source too close. Everyone who saw her gasped their last breaths in what was now a field of corpses.

In the studios the directors screamed for footage. All their onsite cameras streamed noise. Reinforcements were sent for. These new camera crews ran along the beach to the house were Helen was. But each camera broke each operartor was massacred by an overflow of their own desire.

It did not matter if they were masculine or feminine the Helen hit was too fierce all the press and hardcore fanatics lay dead at her feet. The nearest units of media and police were miles away. Helen Adonne walked away and was never seen again.

By Dan Hekate

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