Stories, Thoughts, and Evacuations

…just a place to call my own.

Morbid Little Story

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I entered a “Morbid Little Stories” contest in June held by Amanda Palmer’s Team Chaos site.  All who entered patiently awaited the results.  Well, the leaders that be decided to forgo the final outcome due to time restraints, priorities, disinterest; all poor excuses.  So, entrants will be posting their submissions on the contest link above; here was mine…

She always liked it rough; she told me that.  I didn’t know what to think… the bruises on her arms shocked me at first, but the alcohol made it easier to explore deeper.  Terri came from a broken home… a broken life.  “I play a lot of sports in school.” she said, “They come with the territory.” But, I knew different.  I found out different.

She would be home soon.  A taxi below honked and sped away.  I always loved the view from here – how the sun sets to the northeast, the shadows on the buildings, the sounds, the smells.  Day after week after year; has it been a year already?

She came home with me.  I pulled her into the entryway; our bodies crashed as we kissed and grabbed.  I held her arms above her head and took another look…”They don’t hurt, really.” she said.  I ran my hands down her breasts, her waist, her thighs; her dress slipped off easily as I pulled it over her head… I stared.  There were more.  Big and small, purple, blue and black; I wondered why I wasn’t surprised anymore or scared… of her… of what I was about to get myself into.

Brandon came out on his balcony below us.  “Dude, what’s up?” he said as he pointed a beer bottle my way.  “Hey, not much… making some dinner, winding down, you know.” I said as I turned and glanced down at the body.  “You guys should come over – I’m making pasta and the wine’s already flowing.” I said as I pointed my glass back down to him.  “Cool, I’ll call Heather; I haven’t started anything here so that works for me!  I’ll call you later, thanks Bro.”  He walked back inside his place as I looked down again at the pale, wretched body.

I picked a large bruise on her thigh and kissed it gently.  I lifted her up, slamming her body with mine.  We fucked hard against the wall.  We kissed; we licked; we bit.  I was in a daze and blamed it on the alcohol, but I knew what I was doing.  What we would get into.

I turned and saw the bus pull away; she was coming.  I drank the last of the wine and closed my eyes.  I counted the steps it would take her to reach the front door of the building, the elevator, the hallway to our flat.  I knew the instance the key would enter the lock.  The door opened; her usual zig-zag across the room: shoes off at the door, purse down on the counter, keys in the bowl on the end table.

“Hi Honey” I said as she reached me; she sank into my chest.  I placed my hands on either side of her head and kissed her one last time.  Her eyes found the body on the balcony floor.  My grip held firm as I said, “Amanda Palmer… meet Terri Jones” I lowered my hands to her neck and squeezed, “Terri… meet Amanda.”


Written by REscarcega

November 14, 2010 at 6:11 pm

Posted in Stories

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