I’m bored on my train ride home, so I’m fondling with some story line ideas for one of my class assignments due tomorrow. I’m to write a short story based on mortality about two characters that are faced with death but never die and have to have the four aspects of man vs man, man vs nature, man vs society, and man vs self. Here goes!:
A Tale of Death
She’s nervous. She planned everything, but now, as she waited for the right moment to step out of the bathroom, she was filled with anxiety. Was she ready yet? The excitement was killing her. Maybe he was the key to unlock her door and stab the little girl to death? It was consuming her.
She had been planning the very moment before she bought his plane ticket and flew him up. She knew her family and church would be totally against what she was doing. They would dis-fellowship her for sure. The great thing about living on her own was the way her day could go according to her plan. Only the thunder that shook the house was a threat, but they were shielded by the sheetrock, the walls, the wood, the ceiling, the roof, the floor, the covers, the music. No interuptions.
She gargled and spat, took in more water from the faucet, cupping her hands and sucked it in. She wanted her mouth as clean as possible before she began. She knew it would never be clean like that again. After all, she’d be submitting herself to him completely, to have his way. She flossed, going over each tooth twice. Then she brushed and brushed until she felt strips of skin breaking free, sliming. She gargled and didn’t stop the intrusion until she accepted the painful burn, and became one with the strong mouthwash. She spat, rinsed, dried her wet face and gave herself a once over glance before she cut the light. All white. A perfect little virgin. A college girl virgin. A perfect little angel girl virgin, way past being plucked like cherries in ripened season, dripping red, staining cherry juice.
She entered the room and found all the candles burning now brighter than ever. Even the fire was ready for the moment.
I’m ready to die, she thought. I’m gonna let my baby kill my innocence.
As he gently entered her, with every jerk, she felt the little girl within dying. Every tug and tear, every pull and resistence was slowly killing her. When he started to feel good, he began to thrash away at her insides, forgetting totally that it was her first time. Her heart began to beat faster and faster as she screamed. Pleasure and pain, but more pain. She began to plead with him to stop. He did, eventually, but by then, she knew the little girl was dead.
They kissed and she reassured him that they would try again the next day. As she rose and the blood streamed down her legs, she locked in on her reflection, staring now at the mirror on the back of her door. Everything was red. The candles, the sheets, the pillows and the curtains. Even her white lingerie was stained with crimson. I must be the devil. I’ve fornicated before marriage and I’ve died like Eve in the garden. As she looked in the mirror, she saw a woman looking back at her.
He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her neck. It was done. The little girl was gone, and replaced with the new woman. She yielded and gave in to his power. Oh great man, how powerful thou art, walking around with a tool that can kill, renew and bring forth new life!
“The end” is too cliché so I’ll just say I’m done!