shortie III

My warm moistened skin rested against the glossy, immaculate porcelain-coated steel of the empty bathtub. I couldn’t tell the temperature of that hard material that limited my comfort in the antiseptic capsule. It was neutral, it was welcoming. Drops crowded the walls, the tiles, the plastic curtain that kept me from the air outside, but they remained static. It seemed as if all was at the border of imploding in a cloud of chloride, shampoo and infinite pieces of water divided into zillions of minute silver marbles suspended in the air. Regardless, my body was reluctant to get out of its own entanglement that made it fit into the tub. My head found its place at a rounded corner as my eyelids did nothing but try to get me to sleep in there. Half asleep, half  listening to some telephone conversation going on far outside that whole environment, I watched droplets run down as fast as the minutes I  spent secluded in my own private thoughts.

Her flesh was pale, as white, gelid and numb as the bathtub itself. She felt an internal void vacuuming her organs and her feelings. Her lips parted in the intent of letting a shriek go, though nothing but guttural sounds came across her teeth. She could hardly breathe and that was all that was left to her, unless someone, by chance, found her. Just a pathetic piece of white flesh.

The Journey

Bliss was the most prominent feeling, along with excitement, that this journey provoked in me. For the first time, I’d be travelling down the Scottish hills towards Edinburgh. I had heard of the weather being milder there, so I supposed it would be a relief from this piercing cold wind at the north of this country.

A breeze brushed what was visible of my face underneath the endless layers of wool and I knew rain was approaching. I stepped onto the train, and the railway station vanished. I found myself standing on a red carpeted floor, people’s voices flowing through my ears while jazz music in the background made me feel as if I were at home.

“Have you found your seat, Miss?

A soft voice tickled my ears.

“Yes, Thank you”

I walked down the aisle and found my seat, right next to the window. Just a crystal through which I’d be able to get carried away by the neverending green hills of Scotland. Sinking in the puffy warm seat, I sensed how the voices dimmed into the background, and the beat of the music helped me relax.

The train lurched off and the journey began. And so, it began to rain. My head found its place on the pillow and I gazed out the blurry damp pane, watching the hills wave and the houses get lost behind the moving machine. Droplets hit against the glass as if they were metallic marbles, liquefying and gliding down the transparent, cold surface. Hills and mountains turned emerald and the rain intensified the magical setting with a silver powder-like shower.   

I turned and the soft sweet voice tingled in my ear once more.

“Tea or coffee?”

“Tea, please”

She placed the milky and glossy porcelain cup on my small tray and paraded away with her trolley. Strawberry tea was my favourite and this whole relaxing and peaceful atmosphere let me feel its aroma stronger than usual. I brought the cup close to my face, and felt how the candy-coated vapour crammed through my nostrils as my lips touched the cold china and absorbed that alluring substance.

Again, my eyes got lost in the stardust storm outside, along with the emerald pattern that rushed behind my seat. At last I’d be going to Edinburgh and I’d be able to witness the most amazing festival in the country. I couldn’t wait to get there, but I wished the journey in this moving warm capsule lasted forever.

“Are you alright?”

This time the voice was deep and guttural, yet strangely pleasing. I turned to my left and saw a peculiar but attractive individual sitting right next to me.

“Sure I am!”

His hair was bright blond, glittering in the greyish light from outside, as if the shiny shower had stuck to his hair before he got on the train. His white complexion matched it, making him look like a milky, soft porcelain boy. I hoped he was going to the festival as well though I bet someone else was there waiting for such a jewel.

Two hours later, I opened my eyes, to find my face immersed in his golden string-like smooth hair. We had fallen asleep. I hoped he did not mind this, I really didn’t want to have to stand a jealous girlfriend moaning, or even worse, a slap. I leaned there for a few minutes longer, sniffing his almond scented hair. Promptly the train ceased the movement and so did the rain. Quickly, I sat up and arranged my hair before this interesting corporeal checked on my looks. But not a while passed before he had darted out of the train, and got mixed along with the crowd. I wondered if I had dreamed of him, if that gorgeous image of a man had been only an ethereal product of my infinite imagination. How disappointing it was. How upsetting and detrimental, to find such a creature in such a random way, and to lose him just as randomly.

I stood up, picked up my backpack and scuffed down the train, a bit exhausted, a bit sleepy, a bit disappointed. A white smooth hand suddenly took hold of mine. My eyes followed the hand, the arm, the shimmering blond straight hair and finally his deep blue eyes. And only then did I know who my new companion in my trip would be. It couldn’t have felt more comforting. I felt his arms embracing me and a minute later we  were walking down the damp, pitch black road. Clouds were still compressing the sky, and their colour just brought me to think that they were vaporous pieces of the road, intangibly forming a shell in the sky, and I knew stardust would be falling once more, bathing Edinburgh’s streets, parks, emerald hills and pines, and also my beloved’s glistening hair. 

shortie II - heartsick

Her limbs were numb when she decided to halt her walk. Letting a decaying wooden bench support all of her weight at once, she closed her eyes and exhaled in exhaustion. Tears glided down her warm flushing cheeks as a gentle moisty breeze caressed her face and pushed her hair away from it in an erratic fashion.

            Everything was lost, it was all over and terminated. Now the only heart that was irreversibly shattered into minute pieces was hers.

            Masses of towering, thick, black clouds gathered above heads, buildings and houses, which in the distance melted into one compressed blurry stain. She stood up again and walked at her own pace, while all other pedestrians strode to the closest shelter they could get. She was careless about the rain, about her appointments, about anything at all. All she had she wasted. The love of her life, the love that tried to replace it, and the hope of ever being loved again, it had all gone down the drain like tap water.

Heartsick

Her back was as glossy as porcelain. Her pale skin glowed through the frosting air in the room while the golden, royal blue light from that dimming Nordic sky caressed her never-ending hair. Those ivory black threads entangled and straightened incessantly among the breeze in an ethereal fashion.

Any wandering sound seemed to be swallowed by the mist suspended in the air. Vapour crammed through her nostrils as her lips welcomed the first droplets of an upcoming rain.

Suddenly, all that was left in oblivion for a couple of minutes invaded her mind once again. One, two, three tears were shed and joined the raindrops to engender new tears that bursted against the ebony floor, perverting the thundering silence that had reigned in the room until then. Yet, she remained still. Her blood was boiling in her veins, her heart pounded against her ribcage and yet, she remained still.

His long, straight chocolate hair, his gray eyes and his candy coated lips; all that she missed she couldn't have. It drew a smile on her face for a few seconds, but instantly faded away among a shriek that was fueled in her throat.

Her heart was sick and shattered.

She craved to have his warm skin against hers, to be locked in his arms. But what was in his mind? Did she participate in his thoughts at all?

Putting on the first clothes that she came across, she slammed the door behind her and headed hell knows where. The rain and wind scratched her shimmering face. The next moment she was conscious of how obsolete it all was, there was no way of contacting him. She hated him in the most ambivalent way.

Letting herself sink into a bench at a desolate park, she continued to weep. The storm, the lights of the cars, of the city, all blurred and flowed down her cheeks.

Yes

“Yes.-“ she replied, giggling like a shy schoolgirl, caging in her chest a laughter she would vomit at any minute. She had to be as immaculate and laundered as she was expected to. Yet, it was inevitable. Three Hundred Thousand dollars. That unsanitary amount of money was enough for her to sign the contract. Play the stupid doll, lure, annihilate. When did she ever get into this business? She didn’t know, or at least, couldn’t remember. Cocaine had created that whitish mist that blurred her mind at times.

That morning was colder than most, the sky was tainted half gray, half lavender as it spat snowflakes at the submissive road, resembling a massive cloud of germs spinning within the wind and impregnating themselves on whatever they crashed against. Beth stepped in the clothes shop which at that time was only inhabited by its employees.

“Good morning young lady, may I help you?” A voice pierced her ears.

“Yes please, I’m looking for a nightdress, preferably purple” Her German accent contrasted with the whole place and a distant murmur sprouted from the group of leisurely employees on the opposite side of the shop. As the girl handled her a dress that seemed most appropriate, her heels tapped against the burnished fake wooden floor towards the changing room and she locked herself in it. She tried to imagine the man she’d have to kill that night: tall, short, fat, thin, handsome, feces? Who knows. The only thing she did know was that he was the one who stole the girl away from whom was going to pay her, he couldn’t be that bad. The velvety outfit matched perfectly with the purplish-brown belladonna that would poison the subject. She could see him lying on the linoleum, drugged and poisoned, she could feel Three Hundred Thousand dollars in her pocket, she could sense the white powder cramming through her nostrils until her mind vanished into thin air. 

Beth briskly glimpsed at her watch: she had to be ready in exactly one hour and a half. Half an hour later, her lips were glossy, luscious and fleshy as a raspberry, her emerald eyes gleamed under thick layers of black crusty mascara and her feathery hair leaned down her shoulders in an unbending manner. She picked a wide kitchen knife and glanced at her reflection on the blade. Gorgeous.

“Spiel mit mir, futile trash”. She could hear herself pronounce every word with a disturbing politeness that hid all sorts of rage. Her hand caressed the scalpel which was held to her thigh by an strategically lustful garter. The instrument glided up her skin and darted directly into the male subject, lacerating every single layer of tissue, letting gore gush out like a stream of hate, of a ferrous tasting revenge. She forgot about the belladonna, about the money, about kokain, about everything. How could he? It was not the first time she gave demise to a human being, but this was indeed the first time she actually enjoyed it. His full lips, his angular features so familiar to her were now the object of her hatred, she loathed him, to the point where loving him seemed a scornful illusion of time. If she had had an iron maiden in which to let him agonize she would have. Alas, she could only comfort herself by dragging him to a bathtub and taking the life that was left in him by stomping his head against the antiseptic marble and filling his lungs with boiling water. And wait. She didn’t expect anyone to come for him, he was worthless. She heard her giggle echoing against the inimical glossy white walls of the bathroom, in the company of a corpse that had betrayed her deepest feelings. A three hundred thousand dollar revenge seemed fair. Her thoughts were promptly interrupted by an impatient knocking. Behind the door, the white visage of a blonde woman awaited for the cadaver to get up and fancifully welcome her visit.

“He’s not home, darling”

The blonde seemed puzzled and upset. Beth could hear her steps fading in the distance and proceeded to clean the mess. She sprayed the body with some room deodorant she found near the tub and immediately put it into fire. 

shortie I

Step by step, striding from block to block, seconds seemed like hours. Moisture scented drops glided across her face, defying her determination to get where she had to. She wished she were already there but ambivalently craved for that walk never to finish.