Friday, March 15, 2013

7 Super-Short Stories in 7 Days: Friday


I was leaving the club when I saw it. Not that I knew exactly what I was looking at immediately, or what was happening -but it happened suddenly.
There were two of them, talking loudly, laughing. I was about to go in the other direction when I realized there was a third person: a woman. They were watching her, following her, I think.

Anyway before I knew it, they grabbed her; pushed her against a car and started smacking her, silencing her screams. I was frozen; I didn’t know what to do. So I just stood there and watched this all go down in front of me.

They shoved her in the backseat, I think I saw a gun or something, I’m not sure. It wasn’t until they got in the car that I felt brave enough to step further. I don’t know what I thought I could do, but I still didn’t try to find help -I needed to see what happened next.

But as I stepped forward, I realized I had made a mistake. Not because I thought I would be recognized, but because I recognized one of them.

I wish I could take it all back now, walked in the opposite direction without a second thought. But I can’t, and I’ll have to live with it forever. How can I tell the Police I saw my brother raping a woman?

Thursday, March 14, 2013

7 Super-Short Stories in 7 Days: Thursday


The piercing ring snapped Kourtney out of one of the deepest sleeps a person could hope to have. She glanced at her phone thru slanted eyes, then the alarm clock:
“3am” she grumbled, grabbing the phone “What”?

“Are you sleeping”? The familiar voice asked

“Is that a serious fucking question”? Kourtney barked

The line suddenly went silent.

“What is it?” Kourtney asked gently

“I think…someone might be in your house”.

Kourtney sprang upright, clutching the phone as she wildly looked around the bedroom,

“What are you –“

The gleam of the butcher knife stopped her words short as it deeply plunged into her throat.

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

7 Super-Short Stories in 7 Days: Wednesday



October 15th, 1998

Dear Lewis,

By the time you read this, it will be too late for you to do anything about it. I sent all the evidence to your wife, she’ll know. It’s almost funny when I think about it now, how stupid you thought I was. But that’s okay. Maybe it’s a good thing you underestimated me because I’m sure you didn’t see this coming. Maybe if you took the time to love me as I loved you, things would have been different. You could have been honest, but chose not too. Now you have to deal with what’s about to happen.
Oh, and in case you think your wife won’t believe me, trust me, she will. What I sent her cannot be held up for debate, and I’m sure the Police will feel the same way.
All the photos, chatroom conversations, recorded phone calls –documented.
Has your jaw dropped yet? Or are you trying to figure out how a “ditzy blonde” could get over on you?
Maybe if I didn’t pose as one of the 16 year-olds you were “talking to” I would have been as clueless as everyone else.
Burn in hell you sick bastard!

Love,
Sarah

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

7 Super-Short Stories in 7 Days: Tuesday


The streets were deserted as he pulled the duffel bag behind him. Daley anxiously waited in the window as she eyed him turning the corner; back to their house.



She bit her lower lip tearfully, hoping against hope she wouldn’t see that bag –but she knew she would. He always comes back with a new “package” every Saturday night when Elena works double shift at the Hospital.



It wasn’t always like this, Daley remembered a time when he was the most adoring father any daughter could hope to have. But suddenly he turned into someone she never knew.



He hastily strode up the walkway, to the left of the townhouse where a side door was already propped open for him. Daley shuffled to the kitchen, meeting her father in the doorway:



“This is the last time, right”? She asked with glistened eyes



He stared at the bag distantly, slamming it on the linoleum floor as if snapping out of a daze. Blood instantly crept out of the thick material, while John looked into his daughter’s eyes:


“I…don’t know.” 

Monday, March 11, 2013

7 Super-Short Stories in 7 Days : Monday


The bedroom was dark when I awoken.

I think I did it again.

The only thing present to me from the start was a numb pounding in my head, which happens after…
My hands ached, as if I’d beat the pavement. My bed felt cold and wet. Something sticky had matted my hair to the side of my face. As I lifted my hand into the bit of light seeping in the room, it only took me a split second to realize it was blood. Remnants of the evening came to me in snapshot flashes.
I remember going to the bar. I remember meeting a guy –did he buy me a drink? 
How did I get back home?

And more importantly, whom did I kill this time?

Friday, August 31, 2012

Where There's Smoke...

Seki didn’t mean to burn the house down, but it happened anyway. She barely had time to flick her freshly pulled hangnail before she realized what was happening.  Now all she could do is watch in horror and odd fascination from across the street as the drug house became enveloped with smoke.
“Fuck”. She muttered in the middle of a developing crowd, “Dammit”.
Excited chatter from onlookers drowned out her self-deprecation, while camera phones fanned out around her:
“This goin’ right on WorldStarHipHop.com”! A young girl yelled as she recorded the burning house
Other teens laughed in agreement: “World Star, World Star”!
“Wouldn’t it be fucked up if a crackhead was still in there”? Someone asked
“Hell yeah”! The camera girl giggled
Seki caught her breath. What if someone was still in there? She never considered that. Everything happened too fast. One minute she’s begging her mom to come home, the next minute flames were shooting out of Seki’s fingertips. Well, that got her to leave. Seki thought dryly.  At least her mother wasn’t doing God knows what for God knows who in that house anymore.  Now if only Seki could get those “episodes” under control...
The first time was sudden, as it has a tendency to be now; without warning, but with provocation.  A recycled argument with mom proved to be the final straw.
“I haven’t seen or heard from you in 12 hours!” She shrieked, pointing towards the kitchen clock on the wall as if it would nod in agreement. A single blaze streaked from her index finger, finding it’s bull’s-eye on the number 2.  Both women, stunned into silence, stupidly stared at the melting clock as it slowly oozed away into a dark glop on the floor.  
A piercing crack! jolted Seki from her thoughts, as a blackened 1st floor window split under the pressure of the unforgiving flames. It wouldn’t take much for the fire to rip through the dilapidated house. Echoes of “oh shit!” rippled from all corners of the crowd, but no one made a move to escape the possibility of shattering glass –not even Seki. She was transfixed. As much as she hated to admit it, the feeling of power drunkened her in a way that Medication, Shrinks, or exercise would never do.  
But the bigger problem still remained: How long would it take for her to be exposed?

Sunday, March 4, 2012

Impulse


Key Darling was at the end of her rope, that’s a fact. And it’s about the only thing that explains what led her to Days Inn Motel, off Rte. 130 in Cinnaminson New Jersey. Two months ago her life had an entirely different outlook, one that she never imagined would lead her to this moment, staring at room 111, afraid to go inside and too desperate not to.

Once Scott left her, things only got worse. Sure, he was an asshole boyfriend who only paid her attention when he wanted to get his dick sucked or his clothes washed; but one thing Key couldn’t complain about was the extra income he brought in. She never worried about bills, now that’s all she worried about. Well, that and where her next drink was coming from.

Yes, these last two months had also turned her into an aspiring alcoholic, though she wasn’t quite ready to admit that to herself. In fact, she slammed two shots of Jim Beam this morning, just to wrap her head around what was waiting for her beyond room 111.

The Craigslist ad was so straightforward it was almost comical. But there was something about it that drew Key in like a hopeless moth to a flame:

Looking for a dominant, sexy woman to take charge. Mid-40’s attractive male, in shape, very generou$  Need to be taught a lesson, been a very bad boy. NO SEX OR NUDITY INVOLVED!! Serious inquirie$ only.


What brought Key to South Jersey Craigslist was a fruitless job search, but boredom led her to the personals, M seeking W. Most of the ads she clicked on were pictures of dicks encircling the colors of the rainbow. Needless to say that got real old real fast. But there was something about this ad that made her respond.

Of course, the strategically placed dollar signs may have had something to do with it…
She e-mailed the man who called himself “Mike”. They chatted on the phone soon after for voice-verification. His was professional in his demeanor, almost Lawyer like. He told her he worked a very stressful job, and needed a release that his wife couldn’t fulfill. Key hardly uttered a word for the entire 10-minute conversation, as he went into detail about his request. It seemed he wanted her to be as comfortable as possible, and clear as a bell about what he didn’t want most of all

“As I said in the ad, I don’t want sex; I don’t even want to see you naked. I just want you to take care of me.”

Key wasn’t sure what the hell that meant, and didn’t ask. Besides, the amount of money he offered was too much to turn down; especially with rent due the next day. Ugh, that damn rent, and the car payment, and the stupid cable, Internet, and phone. And let’s not forget the booze. That was more important to her than ever before.

Key sat in her run-down car a few minutes more, nursing another sip of Beam from a small bottle she picked up from the Liquor store –no way could she do this sober. There was no time to think about the danger she was possibly walking into: what if it was a setup? What if he was a Cop? What if he was a Psycho killer? 

“What if I get kicked out”? Key asked herself out loud, “What if I’m fucking homeless –then what”? 

There was no more time for thinking. She couldn’t afford to do that anymore –literally. Key finished the bottle in one healthy swig, checked her demure makeup for the 5th time, popped a mint, and exited from the car. She smoothed out her black miniskirt, and white button-down blouse as she took in the crisp afternoon fall air. “Mike” asked her to wear sexy office attire, and this was the best she could come up with. To the outsider, it would look like she was a corporate floozy; Key guessed that’s the look he was going for. She found it a little strange he never once asked to see a picture of her beforehand; but then she realized it really didn’t matter what she looked like, since there would be no sex involved anyway. Her small heels echoed on the pavement at an alarmingly loud rate, as if they were signaling to everyone in the Motel what she was doing there. Key steadied her breathing, and walked up to the door.

The knob turned easily in her hand. She childishly shut her eyes as she glided in, afraid to look around as the cool darkness of the room enveloped her senses. As Key opened her eyes again, she took in the simple décor of the Motel room. The curtains were drawn tight; the only light seeping from the T.V. set on mute. Key quietly eased in, and locked the door behind her. The king-sized bed was unattended and perfectly made, as if the housekeeper had just left. The shower was running, but Key expected that. “Mike” said he wanted to be clean for what was going to happen. Near the door sat a briefcase, and light coat, but Key couldn’t bring herself to touch it. Instead, she took the opportunity to inspect the room, half-expecting to find knives behind the hung portraits, guns under the bed, or duct tape and rope behind the modest entertainment center –nothing. Key sighed in relief as she sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the closed bathroom door. 

There was still time to get her car, haul ass and forget about all of this; but Key knew she wouldn’t do that, she couldn’t. Two thousand dollars kept her feet firmly planted on the olive carpeting beneath her. That money would solve her all her problems, for now anyway. She could pay her damn rent, catch up on her bills, and have enough left over to get trashed for a few weeks –not that she needed to.

As Key fantasized about money she didn’t have, the shower stopped. He head snapped at attention as the bathroom door gradually opened. Fresh steam billowed from the bathroom, with the smell of Ivory soap quickly following. And there he was, “Mike”. Key couldn’t tear her eyes from him as he looked at her with kind blue eyes, tanned skin, and impressive semi-muscular build. He didn’t lie about his appearance, Key was happy to see. His mid-40’s naked physique was clearly being taken cared of. 

“Hi” Was all she could choke out.

“Hey yourself”, he smiled, “I’m glad you didn’t stand me up”.

Key had to laugh at that. Clearly unashamed of being the only nude person in the room, he remained in the bathroom doorway, taking in Key’s features.

“Do me a favor”? He pointed toward his briefcase, “Set that on the bed for me”.

Glad to get her curiosity satisfied, Key did what he asked. “The combination is 6432”. He said offhandedly with a cocked grin, “You have to unlock it, see”? Key fumbled with the briefcase, and realized what he meant. It was a combination-coded. She gingerly thumbed at it until the briefcase popped open. Inside was an unmarked thick white envelope, and extra long leather belt, way too big for his stature. Key froze. She realized this was one thing that could definitely be used as a weapon.

“It’s not what you think” He replied, reading her puzzled face, “That’s for you”.

“That’s what I’m afraid of”. She said dryly.

All of a sudden, “Mike” dropped to his knees, and scooted in front of Key. He pulled the belt out of the briefcase, placing it in her hands.

“Can you do this for me”?

“Huh”?

“Beat me”. He said, without a trace of humor, “Please hurry, before the water dries on my skin…I like the sting of it, you see”. His crystal eyes stared into Key’s for approval, “That money is yours if you do this, it’s all I want. Just take care of me, and you can walk out of here two-thousand dollars richer”. He gripped Key’s hand tighter around the belt, snapping it on his forearm. Key jumped in surprise, as “Mike” grinned in pleasure. “See”? He chuckled, “You can do it”.

He laid down on the floor in a fetal position, facing Key. Slowly, he started playing with his pink dick, eyes yearning to be taught a lesson. Nervously, Key hit his ass cheek with a half-hearted whack!

“Harder”. He moaned, coating the head of his cock with precum

With that one word, Key abandoned her timid nature and proceeded to strike “Mike” like he was trying to rape her. Each time she brought the belt down on his progressively scarlet body, Key imagined herself beating Scott, and cursing him for leaving her high and dry. Suddenly, this whole scenario didn’t seem so crazy after all. Something had awakened in her, and it frightened her how much she was starting to enjoy herself.

She whipped at his, legs and back, but paid special attention to his ass. Every time the belt made contact with it, “Mike” squeezed and stroked his cock with feverish urgency.

“Harder, fuck”! He yelled, as tears streamed down his face, “I’m almost there”! Key switched hands and kept up the pace as best as she could, allowing all her anger over these past few months to be channeled through the belt and onto “Mikes” poor swelling body.

“Oh God, I’m cumming”! 

With the final lash, “Mike” cried out and exploded his seed all over the carpet, with multiple spasms following. The only thing Key could do was gawk at the sight in front of her; afraid she might scream, or even laugh at any moment. 

He crawled over to the bed, to the briefcase, “Here” He handed Key the envelope breathlessly, “You earned it”. As he spoke, it seemed as if the welts on his body became an even more brutal shade of red. Key didn’t know what else to say. Her pounding heart quieted to a rhythmic thump as she dropped the belt, grabbed the envelope and backed towards the door.

“You know”, He said, gliding his perfectly manicured fingers over the marks, “We should do this again. What do ya say? Same time, place, in two weeks”?

Key opened the envelope, taking in the sight of all the twenties and fifties. Was this her life now? Beating a guy within an inch of his sanity while he pleasures himself? Who would do something like this to make a living? Was it worth it?

……..But then, there was the matter of rent for the following month, and bills, and booze.

“That depends,” She said finally, “How much are you willing to pay”?