Short stories

Short stories.

Ace of Roses

It’s ironic that after a day in twenty-four years, I have nothing left to say for myself. It’s as if my life were nothing more than a deck of cards, laying face up on the table before me save the last one. I stare at the card, willing it to turn over but it remains a mystery to me as the single light bulb above my head flickers dimly. Frustrated, I turn my head to look out the window and see that it is nearly dusk.
I sit on the solitary wooden chair in the room I once knew as my bedroom. The table before me it’s mate, riddled with coffee rings from forgotten mugs. The smell of stale coffee mingles with the fragrance of old books that sit casually on shelves of the bookcase I made. It was my first accomplishment and my parents praised me, their voices echoing in my mind now as I gaze once more upon the object of my fascination.
I turn away, looking toward the closed door across from the window. How many times I heard them through it, I don’t remember. I lay in my bed then, thinking of all the things I could do to please them. I used to look out my window at the brightness of the midday sun in summer, pretending I lived in a castle far away. The grey and white salt box with the black roof no longer feels the same. My room, a prison of disconnected memories, elusive. The light flickers again and I look back at the card, it’s hypnotic blue and white crisscross pattern dulling my mind, stealing my memory, my joy.
I close my eyes, hearing the faint whisper of their voices talking about things not meant for my ears. The whispers fade into the deafening silence around me and I open my eyes to stare at the nothing that denies me its face. I reach for my empty water bottle, relocating it to the trash beside my chair that smells of Nacho Cheese Doritos. I can’t remember when last I ate and feel hunger only for the tuna casserole of my youth. My numb feet shuffle in the cooling room, my insensitive fingers trembling at the unknown but too afraid to face it.
The light flickers again. I don’t know why they left. I don’t know where they went. Somehow, in the passing of the day, they went away and left me to face existence alone. I had failed them, myself, making things for the past to fill a dusty room with what was. The card comes back into focus, it’s mute scream filling my ears with a dull ring that makes my legs feel like stone. The sky outside, nearly void of light, reminds me to think with what’s left of my sanity and power.
As a jolt suddenly runs up my spine, I feel the last pulse move slowly, inexorably toward the failing bulb above me. I remember now. The card is the one I made carefully, meticulously recreating the pattern on the back to match the others. I created the face carefully then laminated it to last forever. It is my crowning achievement, the card I made to replace the Ace of Hearts I lost when they left. As that final pulse enters the bulb, the light is gone from the sky and I smile at the cold overtaking me. The last card is the Ace of Roses.

Blind Fantasy

Alonzo stared at the woman ahead of him. He had never before seen such an incredibly beautiful woman in all his life. He had dreamed of many sensuous women no more beautiful than this one, all of them falling hopelessly in love with him. Usually, his fantasy women were clad in long, body revealing nighties or skimpy bras and thongs; though this dark-haired woman looked very sexy in her tight-fitting pin-stripe skirt suit, he could picture her in more sultry dress. In his dreams, he was always much more muscular and bare-chested with a long ponytail down his back, not the shorthaired nerd he was. As he stood there, Alonzo realized that this real woman might notice his ogling and tried desperately not to stare, averting his lustful gaze to examine something invisibly attached to his shoes. When he looked up, she had turned more in his direction, apparently looking for something or someone. Alonzo could feel the sweat beneath his shirt cascading in rivulets down his back. Certain she would notice him, he decided to go back into Starbucks for a biscotti or Danish. As he turned around, a large burly man strode past, bumping into his arm and spilling his coffee down his pristine white shirt.

“Sorry, buddy,” the man apologized as he continued on. Muttering a thanks under his breath, Alonzo changed course and made his way through the somewhat crowded plaza toward the restrooms.

He cursed himself in his mind. There were many attractive women in the world, many attractive women in the office tower where he worked. None of them ever noticed him and none of them were nearly as beautiful as that woman somewhere behind him. What was he thinking? How could he be so foolish as to gawk like some country bumpkin on his first visit to the big city? Threading his way through the plaza, he arrived at the door to the men’s room.

It was locked. Looking up, he discovered a sign reading “See vendor for restroom key.” Muttering under his breath, Alonzo headed back to Starbucks to acquire the restroom key. Now he was going to be late getting back from his break. As he reentered Starbucks, the brunette in the skirt suit was walking out. As their eyes met, he tried desperately not to look more the dolt than he did already.

“Excuse me,” she said in husky yet sensuous voice. “Could you show me where to find the restroom?”

Alonzo felt his heart pound in his chest and for a moment, he just stared into her large, beautiful eyes wishing he was dreaming.

“It’s right over there,” he replied, turning slightly and pointing in the direction he came. “You’ll need a key to get in.”

“Thanks,” she replied, smiling and holding up a key attached to a metal espresso cup.

Smiling as nicely as possible, he stepped to the side and allowed her to pass. He watched as she crossed the plaza, her movements causing greater arousal. Without further hesitation, Alonzo entered the store and requested the key to the men’s room.

“Someone just took it,” the young woman behind the counter replied. “Would you like something to clean your shirt, sir?”

Alonzo accepted the offer, trying to relax until the guy with key returned. He dabbed at the dark brown coffee stain on his shirt and was glad it hadn’t spilled further down and that he didn’t like cream. When he had finished, Alonzo handed the rag back to the young woman behind the counter. A few minutes later, the beautiful brunette returned and smiled at Alonzo as she approached the side counter.

“I see you got the coffee out,” she said.

“Yeah, I’m glad it wasn’t worse,” he said nervously, feeling renewed arousal at her closeness.

“Yeah, good thing,” she said, handing the key back to the attendant. “Well, hope the rest of your day goes better. I work upstairs in accounting. Maybe I’ll see ya’ later.”

She smiled and turned away, walking across the plaza to the elevators. Alonzo watched her leave and noted every move of her body, his arousal growing. Trying to keep his excitement from being too obvious and decided he’d be a little later getting back to work. Just then, he heard the young woman behind the counter.

“Sir? Here’s the men’s room key,” she said, handing him a key attached to a metal espresso cup.

Raindrops (unfinished)

Raindrops

She stood a moment longer looking at me, then turned and walked away without a word. I looked at where she had been standing, empty space without memory. I turned my head and looked out the window at the rain again. Somewhere in the raindrops, I knew there was a moment of serenity. It always eluded me. It always left me longing for that sense of peace that followed love-making, giving each other what we had gained from each other in something as simple as a lover’s kiss. I knew she wanted to share that with me, that place between the raindrops where time stands still and all is divine. I looked back at the computer screen, the page still lacking life. I put my hands forth to speak and fell silent once again.
Raindrops.
The cat pawed at the door window beneath the awning so I stood up and let her in. She paused a moment, looking up at me, knowing, then shook her paws and disappeared into the kitchen. I thought about that as I closed the door, shutting out the cool air and raindrops then sat back at my desk. I licked my lips, pondering how cats seem to know what you never tell them, tasting a dream I half fulfilled alone and creatively. I thought once that I could manage without having to endure the rigors of shared serenity. As I stared once more at my unvoiced anxiety, I wondered how long it would be before the rain stopped.
“Johanna?” I said nothing, waiting. “When are you going to make dinner?”
“There’s some fruit on the table,” I replied.
“I know, but,” she said, suddenly appearing in the doorway. “I was thinking maybe if you wanted, I could go get something.”
“Like what, Kristy?” I asked, my mind pondering the possible results of my roommate getting pick up.
“What’re you in the mood for?” she asked, her head tilted slightly, crystal blue eyes searching the darkness of mine. “Something spicy or something simple?”
“Middle-Eastern sounds good right now, actually,” I said, thinking far away across purple mountains, amber prairies, forests and valleys, rivers and lakes and seemingly endless highways.
“Hm,” she said, her ice blue eyes reflecting the emptiness she had left behind before, her tone void of warmth. “Like what, exactly?”
“Falafel?” I said. “And tabouleh. Oh, and some hummus and pita.”
“Falafel…” Kristy said, eyes narrowed, her voice as sharp as cold steel.
“Yes,” I replied, softly and evenly. “Get something with meat, if you want it. I was planning on just having the falafel on a bed of rice.”
“Fine,” she replied, the air cracking through her teeth as she spoke. A moment later, Kristy Solden was gone like a brief winter breeze and I was grateful for the return of the warmer emptiness she had left behind before.
I closed my eyes, seeing a desert oasis between the raindrops and felt the longing once more. To feel the ray of eternal light wash over us as we share the night again in a kiss I dream of tasting. I feel a sudden warmth at the thought, a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. I spread my wings reflexively and take flight into my yearning, hoping to find that place between the raindrops where time stands still and the fulfillment of serenity never ends. When I open my eyes again, I see that the rain has stopped and for a moment, I feel only peace as the image of her softens and fades leaving behind my smile and the heady aftertaste of a night we’ve yet to share.