Merry Christmas (and happy Holidays to anyone that got offended by that) what better way to celebrate then by releasing another short story!
This piece came out of me and I was taken back by it. Not sure how my mind went down this path during a free write, but I was pleasantly surprised with the outcome. My plan was always to release it on Christmas. The Holiday of Holidays!
The art that was done for this story, I really couldn't of asked for a better visual aid. Once this project was put into action the artist that created this masterpiece came to mind instantly. For this story in particular. The artist I speak of is local comedian/artist Lisa Lang. You can catch her comedy all around Boston and you can see her art through multiple medias such as Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.
Again, please disregard any writing errors due to this being a free write to get the gears turning. Open your hearts/minds to the concept and ENJOY!
Her eyes were like looking in a blue sea without a bottom.
No matter how long I kept eye contact, I’d never find their true depth. I blink first, every time…
“you make me blush” I say to her as I break our gaze and look at the ground. I cant even look at her feet sometimes. “how’d I get so lucky…” quickly glancing back up, then down. “I know you hate when I talk like that, but I will never understand the answer.”
“do you need anything?” I continue while starting to get up, stopping in that awkward squat position. “oh, never mind you’re all set.” sitting back down. “sorry… just want everything to be perfect. hahaha… even after all these years I still ask when it’s clear you’re fine.” looking away again. “I’m sorry.”
there’s a chill coming from the window cill. the hairs on my arm stand straight up. she doesn’t flinch. “you must be cold. let me get your sweater.” hurrying over to the coat rack, I fumble with soft fabric while tugging it off the plush hanger I placed it on earlier.
as I put the cashmere on her body, my fingers caress her shoulders. the breathe leaves me. the feeling I get when my skin makes contact with her body is something only a poet would understand. she stays still.
I inhale. Close my eyes. I can feel the scent of her being rushing down my esophagus, filling up my lungs. Exhale. she stays still.
“please forgive me for lingering. It’s just…” a soft breeze fills the room again. “looks like the weather might be turning for the worse.” i say, changing the subject. she stays still.
“The funniest thing happened the other day. I don't think I told you” my hands slide off her shoulders and move seamlessly into flamboyant hand jesters, indicating an inthralling story. “I was walking down the street, in a hurry, attempting to catch the bus. When all of a sudden I hear a beggar say “excuse me, mister, excuse me” a beggar! talking to me!” my eyes are wide as I tell this story, pacing the room, hands keeping the beat so my words can follow. “well, I’ll be, I thought to my self. this beggar must see a weakness in me that would trigger her to think I would actually take time out of my day to give her my attention. This intrigued me, so I obliged. “yes, ma’am” I responded to her” even remembering this moment tenses me up, my right hard balled as tight as possible, nails digging into the skin of my palm. she stays still.
“The beggar then responded, “would you happen to have some change for a poor old woman, just trying to make enough to feed herself to last the night?” as she was saying this she started to stretch her hands out, palms up, while making eye contact and coming closer with subtle shuffles. I couldn't believe it, she just wanted ME to hand her MY earnings. for what reason? due to her poor decisions I should make some of my own and just hand out my money?” she stays still.
“Kenneth!” is heard from the hallway.
“excuse me just one second my dear.” I walk to the door, crack it open. “Yes MOTHER!?!” she stays still.
“It’s time for dinner honey! I made your favorite! Liver and onions baby! come on down before the Liver starts to coagulate!” my mother yells from the kitchen. she stays still.
“Just a minute mother! I don't mind if the blood starts to turn! as a matter of fact, I prefer it!” Kenneth shuts the door, turns to his companion. “I’m sorry for the interruption. my mother may lack etiquette, but please understand her intentions were well. Now where was I? oh the peasant… you know what? this isn't proper conversation before we dine.” Kenneth takes a seat back on his bed. She stays still.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK “Kenneth, you should come down now please. we are waiting for you to start honey.” She stays still.
“JUST A MINUTE MOTHER! you can start without me.” She stays still.
“What are you doing in there Kenneth?” his mother says while turning the knob. She stays still.
Kenneth jumps to get across the room before his mother can enter, but is tripped up due to how tightly he had crossed his legs while sitting. The door opens and Mrs. Kenneth’s Mother has a clear view of the room. She stays still.
Her eyes widen and hand raises to catch the gasp as it leaves her mouth. On the floor next to his bed lay Kenneth, but in the seat across the rug sits a taxidermied mess wearing her clothes…
“What the hell is that Kenneth!?! What have you done!?!” Kenneth’s mother screams as tears start streaming down her cheeks and she collapses to her knees.
The heaping pill of decay, donning his mother’s clothes, is a mosaic of discarded road kill that Kenneth has meticulously sown together, forming a new bread of beast that resembles the physic of a woman.
“Please leave mother… there is no way to explain love…”