Need To Know - Short Story by Marva G

Need to Know 

By Marva Gregorio De Souza

     The rain poured. A deluge. Dramatic proportions dodged, avoided by the majority; braved and embraced by the few. Abraham and Tina were among the majority and watched the water’s downward process through the window lining their table on loan from the café owner. It was quiet, the settings within any kind of close proximity to them; empty. This suited Abraham’s plans in particular. He needed to talk to Tina. It was time and the matter was sensitive. Six months of dating was his usual marker. Difficult holding back for longer, the jitters difficult to control and mask. He was not sure what would happen if he allowed himself to endure beyond. He could not risk finding out. Control of all factors where possible was the key to his survival.

     Tina, unknown to her, was similar in looks and build to his other girlfriends. His type - desire - need. Abraham readily admitted to himself the connection with Tina was considerably stronger than any he had experienced. He wondered if this would have any bearing on her reaction to his news. Would it be enough for her to make the decision Abraham craved? It was time to find out.  Tina shuddered her wet skin in damp clothes then made eye contact with Abraham and smiled deeply warmly. He enjoyed her smile and its ability to touch his heart. A new experience for him, a relish. How he hoped her response would be wonderful. Taking a deep breath and Tina’s hand, Abraham looked deep into her soul and gathered the words in his mind.

     “I’m sorry I need to go to the loo.” He ran for the burrow, scattering squawking chickens in his wake.

     The mirror questioned him relentlessly. What was he waiting for? Washing his hands, Abraham took some time to collate his answer. He didn’t want it to end. Relationship history had clearly shown what the results of revealing all his dark secrets would be. They were not received well. Once told they could not be ignored. The knowledge and abhorrence of his predicament turned loves into disposable burdens. And he didn’t want to lose Tina as he lost the others. Not Tina. He loved Tina.

     How it was possible, he did not know. Up to this point in his life he had been text book perfect, the type of case professors would refer to in their lectures to drive home well established psychological theories. Regardless. He loved Tina. Her demise would devastate him. Her demise by his own hand as close to impossible as anything could be. Tina was not like the others and he, Abraham would not allow her end to be the same. Conscious of the length of time spent away he quickly finished his removal task of the fifth and final trophy and returned to the living oasis seated by the window.

     “Are you OK?” Tina tilled a small furrow between her brows. Abraham smoothed it away with his calm response.

     “More than.”

     “Shall we have another coffee while we’re waiting this… oh where are your earrings?”

     “I decided to take them out.”

     “Just now?”

     “Yeah.”

     “You’re so strange sometimes. But I guess that’s one of the things I love about you. And besides I thought they were a little on the feminine side.”

     “Do I scare you? Freak you out?”

     “Silly, of course not.”

     “Good. I’ll try to keep it that way. Same again?” Abraham conversed with the virgin bar tender and came back to Tina bearing gifts. Coffees placed on the table. Bottom placed on the seat. Eyes placed on eyes. Abraham smiled then mentally sighed the sigh of the content determinedly confident to overcome the jitters.

     The rain stopped as abruptly as it started.

The End

Last Stretch!

Yippee I'm on the last stretch, the final furlong, the fat lady's singing her song! With just over 10k words to go I'll be glad to have a celebratory rest. Dead chuffed with the novel so far though :D

Riding Along on My Write Bike Honey!

Very pleased to have fit in my fit of writing before 11am leaving the rest of the day to play... well do the socials and learn greek. But it's almost play, I guess! 22424 words in the bag.

Honey I'm Home - a short story

Honey I’m Home

by Marva Gregorio De Souza

“Phew! That was close.”

Robbie stood up again once he was sure the patrol car was out of sight. The police seemed to have stepped up their game, that was the fourth one this evening. Or maybe it was totally unconnected with his particular illegal activities.

He bent over and took a good grip on the sack again. If someone had told him dead bodies were this hard to drag he wouldn’t have believed them. After this many you’d think he’d be used to it, but he wasn’t. In fact every one seemed heavier than the last. His efforts to find lighter, smaller, victims were not paying off. It would appear that the gym was the only option to make his work easier.

This one put up a fight too.

“Sally? Yes I’m sure her name tag said Sally.” The sack dropped to the floor with a thud as Robbie dug into his pocket to check.

“Correctomondo! And they said I wasn’t a people man.”

He continued on his journey to the river. The ground got softer as he neared the banks and his dead weight became almost impossible to maneuver when his feet began sinking in the mud.

“Come on Sally, work with me here.” The two companions stopped for another break. Robbie hunkered down as he heard another siren in the distance.

“Just in case Sally. We can’t be too careful.” He took a watchful pause before continuing conversation with his ward. “I hate what they’ve done to us Sally. Hate it. It used to be that you got a job, got paid and went home to the family, satisfied after a hard day’s work. Nobody got fired. Nobody. I didn’t even do anything wrong, really. It was the bastard manager he didn’t have a clue. Didn’t have a clue about anything. He’d only been working there for what, a month? Two at the most. I was doing exactly what everyone else was doing. But I got caught cos I was the only one honest about it. And no one stood up for me. They all just let me hang. The family left me hanging too. No money. No Robbie. Let’s not talk about it any more. It hurts too much even after all this time. Things are much better now anyway. The new family is much better. Let’s go.”

The heavy lugging continued through the dough like soil. Sometimes Robbie thought he’d hit quick sand but he knew that wasn’t possible so he carried on, building up a ‘tug of war’ rhythm to get through each inch. He was not afraid of hard work.

At the small cabin he knocked. Two long, three short. He looked around to make sure there were no fishermen, trackers, animals, spies or police; took out the padlock key and removed the padlock. He whispered to Sally;

“Let me go in first and pave the way. They’re not expecting company. I’m sure everything will be fine but just in case. I won’t be long.”

Robbie pushed past the resistance of the rusty hinges and went inside, closing the door behind him. Outside you could hear his urgent whispers without quite catching what he was saying. The door opened again and he pulled Sally inside after one last check for watching eyes.

He took the sack off with great difficulty. No scissors to hand. Sally lay on the center of the floor with the knife still embedded in between her ribs on the left hand side. Her eyes were open, the look of shock imprinted over pre-Robbie brightness. Under the surveillance of the new family and dozens of flies, Robbie put his arms under Sally’s armpits, careful not to touch her breasts, and from behind positioned her in the last space against the wall. Finished, wall to wall family, as it should be.

Robbie took his place against the opposite side so he could see Sally without turning his head. She was the newest, the freshest, and he wanted to enjoy her for as long as possible. He took a deep breath, and gagged over the stench as he remembered he’d forgotten to pick up air freshener again.

The End

Charlie's Talent - a short story

Charlie’s Talent

by Marva Gregorio De Souza

Charlie was unremarkable in most aspects. He did not particularly excel in class, neither was he particularly rebellious as teenagers come and go. His hair was not overly long or overly short. The closet in his room was filled with jeans and T’s that could blend in with a hundred-thousand teenagers’ jeans and T’s across the country. He did nothing to make his parents proud, but nothing to make them stay up at night worrying.

Charlie was unremarkable in most aspects, except for one. Charlie possessed a special talent that was the envy of all his male classmates. An envy shared by the few adult males aware of it. He could not officially take pride in his skill, which, although extremely rare and precious, was a natural ability bestowed on him through no manipulation on his part. He could, however, take pride in the diligence applied to the practicing of his talent.

Charlie was able to put his own penis in his mouth. He discovered this when he was 14 and spent the next 2 years enjoying the fact. His enjoyment increased tenfold when he discovered that none of his friends were able to do this. It gave him a sense of individuality, as if his was a special calling and something to bestow upon the world.

Charlie was yet to work out how he could serve the world with this talent. He would often be in his room, on his bed, back against the wall, head down, penis in his mouth and his mind churning over the various options accredited to him when he turned 18. At the top of the list was pornographic stardom. Charlie’s mind still happily resided at the first and only item on his list. He was eluded by thoughts of becoming the key subject in a medical study and evaded by the unique educational possibilities, to train both male and female disciples, on the fine art of fellatio. He would own the sex industry, as Microsoft owns computer software.

Charlie was deformed. His forehead was deeply furrowed due to constantly raising his eyebrows so he could see straight ahead. He was unable to see straight ahead without raising his eyebrows due to his head constantly being held at a 90 degree angle to his body. His head was held at a 90 degree angle to his body due to the extreme curving of his cervix and his neck was obviously curved due to his pertinacity in pursuing his talent.

Charlie was ill. His heart and lungs were suffering from the consistent stress they were subject to as he curled up over his penis. Breath left his body with the rasping sound of a 95 year old with severe bronchitis. The haphazard rhythm of his heart was a major study in itself.

Charlie was oblivious to the direct correlation of his growing deformities and increasing ill health and the vast amount of time dedicated to his talent. Neither had he considered his deformities and ill health as a wedge keeping the doors to the sex industry firmly closed to him. Charlie was barely aware of anything situated outside the realm of his mouth and penis.

Charlie was unremarkable in most aspects, but Charlie was happy with his own company.

THE END

The Long Day - a short story

This story has been included in Pocket Full of Bleeding Posies but you can still read it for free right here right now!

The Long Day

by Marva Gregorio De Souza

Another hot, sticky day and Amanda wondered how many more she could take.

She sat at the table, in front of the fan with her eyes closed, and imagined herself in the Antarctic, freezing cold. Her feet are blocks of ice and walking is painful. Peeping through the small opening in the hood of her coat, she blinks her frozen eyelashes and looks up at the weak sun, which starts to get stronger and stronger until the snow melts and Amanda feels like she will suffocate in all the layers she has on. Damn, she can’t even get cold in her imagination.

On the pavement just outside her apartment window an old bag lady walks by struggling with the trolley with all her belongings crammed inside in no particular order. The trolley kept insisting on rolling down the dip in the pavement and refused to understand the old lady just wanted to carry on straight down the road to wherever it was her destiny was leading her. Amanda considered going out to help her, mulling it over in her head until the homeless was out of sight, then out of mind.

Amanda looked to the tops of the trees lining the avenue with quiet majesty. The leaves were at their greenest. Summer was in full swing and, as if they knew their time was short, they danced in the sunlight and gentle breeze as though there was no tomorrow. Maybe there was a lesson to be learnt. A cyclist sped by and distracted her. Maybe not.

She flicked her eyes at the clock. A record was set for the morning, a whole four minutes since the last time she looked. It would be a very long day if she continued checking the time every 30 seconds or so.

And this was probably the last clock she should be looking at, today of all days. This was the one he’d bought her on that day ordained by magical fairies to be the best one of her life. Perfection reigned from start to finish. It was not so much the activities he planned, it was the fact he had planned. He’d given it so much thought; the flower delivery to wake her up, closely followed by a hired chef to make her breakfast in bed (Roger was fully aware of his lack of culinary skills) and then his full attention for the remainder of the day. Once he was sure everything was running smoothly he even made a point of switching off his phone, his life line to all aspects of his life. He never switched it off, only on that day. And only for her. While out walking through a quaint antiques market, the results of Roger’s research, he had found the clock. He commented on the beautiful rhythm of the ticking, the smooth walnut and purchased it, saying that as long as it was ticking Amanda would know he was thinking of her. The clock had not stopped once.

Every day since had been measured against that day and fallen short. It was not the sign of change Amanda longed for. Roger’s desire to make her smile waned and now was as if it had never been. He never switched his phone off again.

And this is why she was sitting by the window, waiting for him to come home so she could hand him the divorce papers carefully placed in front of her, just out of reach of the effects of the manufactured breeze. They were neat and clean, ready and waiting to fulfill their destiny. Their one purpose on this earth was to obtain Amanda’s freedom from the misery of being ignored.

Roger’s reaction would be as she expected it to be. Angry. He wouldn’t get violent because he never got violent. He wouldn’t cry because he never cried. He would be angry because he was always angry, at everyone and everything. And now Amanda was angry at herself, for taking that one glorious day and building her life on it. Fool! Prize fool!

As she got up to put some coffee on, her eyes automatically looked at the clock. The record remained in tact. Roger would not be home for another 6 hours or so. It was going to be a long day.

THE END