Friday, November 6, 2009

A new short story...

Here's what I got so far. Tell me what you think.

The sky was irritatingly sunny. And the wind was evilly withdrawn on this very hot summer day. I sat on my wooden porch swing, barefoot with my tan knees pulled toward my chest, taking deep drags of cigarettes. I picked at my chipped red toe nail polish with one equally chipped fingernail and contemplated resurfacing them with a new color before Miles arrived. But decided against it. Too much work. So, instead I stayed where I was. Smoking deeply, with my back pressed against wood, rocking ever so slightly, to the old blues. The smoke leaving my mouth uncurled itself into the sky as I looked around me, bobbing my head to the music. Old houses with big front porches painted in funny colors like red and turquoise surrounded me. Bordering the back yards and porches were lighting features, like Chinese lanterns, Tiki torches, and white Christmas lights for decoration. They created a refreshing ambiance at night. Scattered in the overgrown front lawns were beer cans and beer bottles, informing passersby that the house was indeed owned by college students. My own home was indeed littered with ciggerette boxes and empty bottles from last night’s rather wild rendez vous. I laughed fondly as I remembered the way everyone immediately upon getting high, sat down to discuss the different meanings in all the aspects of life. It was like the marijuana was a soap washing away everyone’s insecurities and fears for the night. The bud of the plant supplied fertilizer to the blossoming individuals in the room.

And then I saw the most beautiful thing: Miles with his brown curly hair and creamy white skin, pedaling down my street on his blue mountain bike. In his ripped up army coat that he got from his Father, and tan cargo pants, he came to embrace me. His breath, a warm sweet smell of pancakes, splashed my face like warm water on a cold day. His strong arms lifted me off the ground a bit as he leaned back with me. I nuzzled into his shoulder and breathed in the lusciousness of the subtle milky scent. Looking into his face I saw his sapphire blue eyes, glowing in the sunlight. He smiled his crooked little smile dressed in slightly plump red lips and kissed me on the forehead.

“Hello, dear lady,” he said.

I looked up at him and smiled involuntarily from the special gratitude one feels after being flattered. I loved it when he called me that. It made me feel better than what I was.

“Hello, good sir,” I replied.

“How are you feeling,” he asked.

And suddenly without realizing it, any certainty about my mood slipped away from me. And I was left dumb founded. I wasn’t happy, but I wasn’t sad. I was pleased to see him, but there was still an underlying sentiment of grief in my spirit. I stared into the distance thinking about the valleys between the contrast of my feelings.

And mumbled, “I…I..I actually don’t know.”

He looked back at me with concern. His face scrunched up as his eyebrows furrowed. And then I abruptly felt my stomach open up and a feeling of gestational pain gurgle up toward my throat. My head pulled back as the involuntary gagging action was evoked. I was about to puke. I looked panicked in his worried eyes, and then ran into the house, cupping my hand in front of my mouth all the while. I got to the bathroom and leaned over. At first I just dry heaved. But then yellow spit came up. Still this removal of waste was not satisfying. I needed to hurry the pain out of my stomach. So, as I knelt over the toilet I stuck two fingers down my throat and wiggled them, feeling the back of my insides flap a little. I continued to wiggle my finger as I slowly lost the ability to breathe. Spit and Mucous were slowly spilling from the crevice between my fist and the corners of my mouth. Tears ran down my cheeks. Finally, and with great weight, yellow and green barf spewed from my mouth. Miles had walked in at this point and held my long brown hair back with a hand, as he rubbed my shoulders. Every couple of seconds another thrust of barf would come.

Finally I was finished. My throat stung from the forced encounter with my fingers. I looked into the mirror for a second as I brushed my stained teeth. Mascara ran down my tan cheeks. My green eyes were rimmed with the color of blood, as I gargled, a little water spilling from the corners of my mouth. Bright red veins shot from the pupil. I looked like shit, but I felt so much better.

After I left the bathroom, Miles looked at me quizzically.

“What was that about,” he asked.

“I have no idea,” I said truthfully.

But before I could wonder too long, our friends Isabelle and Michelle showed up. Isabelle was a beautiful brown mix of Puerto Rican and Italian. Her long brown hair curled to pieces of perfection in the golden light. Her brown eyes were like chestnuts on a warm fire. Dressed in jean cut off shorts, white converses, and a yellow college t-shirt, she sat down on our purple couch. Next to her, Michelle sat in navy blue hot pants that made her ass look firm and accessible. Her tank top showed off her large breasts, while her long blond hair softened her entire look. Her eyes seemed dead and her thoughts seemed vast and incompatible with the rest of the worlds.

1 comment:

  1. I love it(:
    and I know I just about say that with everything you write, but I really love this.