'The Enigma of Desire' by Salvador Dali.
Ok I've started browsing, but I've not really come across anyone who I'd like to follow...just yet. I still haven't really thought up a theme, but whilst I'm thinking, I'm going to put up a couple of short stories that I wrote whilst I've been doing my masters.
‘The Enigma of Desire’
He was too busy lighting the candles to notice the smell from the kitchen. The living room was appropriately dim - flattering. This was Michael’s sixth date with the Italian girl. He’d offered to cook rather foolishly, but like the real loser he was, he’d asked his mum to make him a lasagne that he could just reheat. His mum was more than accommodating, ‘did you want some pecan pie for after’s? Perhaps I could stop by and meet the lovely lady.’ Hilda tried her best not to seem too excited. She knew her son wasn’t the girl magnet she’d hoped for. He was socially inept and wore ridiculous glasses but he was smart and that had to count for something . ‘Not this time ma. As cool as it would be for you to show up bearing our romantic dinner, I think I’ll go solo on this one.’ 35 and I can’t cook for my girlfriend. What a chump.
This girl was more attractive than he was, although not out of his league. He was wealthy - a console game designer for Ubisoft - part of the team that built Ransom 1 and 2. He was sort of handsome too, in a studious way, but this girl was really something. He tried not to be affected by his brother’s constant put downs. ‘She’s a bunny boiler. She’ll lob off your plumbs while you sleep and feed them to her dog.’ He didn’t want to admit it, but he was intimidated by her. Her mood swings were a little peculiar if not unpleasant - especially during sex. ‘You’re just sore, coz she chose me - your charming and gorgeous little brother,’ Michael jibed. She appeared to be flirting with both of them, on that night when they all met for the first time. Michael ordered a bottle of the bar’s most expensive champagne, to celebrate his brother’s birthday. When the Laurent Perrier arrived at their table - in an embarrassingly large ice bucket - so did she. ‘Can I join you in your celebration?’ They both knew she was foreign straight away. If she hadn’t been so beautiful they might have rejected the offer. They all talked for hours and consumed a whole crate of the French fizz. This girl had so many questions, particularly about Michael’s job. ‘So Michael do you have a company car?’
‘No, no. I opted for the bonus. I bought a really nice apartment just recently.’ His older brother, Liam, was clearly bored, the wet finger round the wine glass trick was starting to really piss Michael off. ‘Really, that sounds great...Maybe I can come see it.’
That was how it had all started. He had slept with her that night - she had such great energy in bed. He had never met a girl who was so into him. He imagined her jiggling breasts and his hands around her little waist. It was scary how well proportioned she was. He couldn’t have created a better woman in 3D game graphics. Her skin was blemish free, tanned, but ageless. Her lips were plump without looking inflatable. He didn’t know much about her - she didn’t like to talk about herself which was fine with him. He didn’t want to corrupt his fantasy. Someone knocked on the door loudly. ‘Just coming!’ The smoke detector started to screech at him from the foyer. Is that the candles? Shit, the food. He jumped up, too quickly for his 35 year old knees and knocked the coffee table. Shit. He hopped a little on one leg whilst trying to rub his shin. He could just about hear her voice above the wailing alarm. ‘Darling. I’m getting impatient.’
Once he’d removed the incinerated lasagne, punched the hell out of the detector with his date’s heavy duty hair brush, he felt ready hit the sack. ‘Don’t worry bello. I’ve eaten lasagne before. I know what I’m not missing.’ She pinched his chin and rubbed her nose against his. ‘I’m not hungry anyway. Shall we have some wine?’ She sashayed over to the coffee table and picked up the bottle. She bent down over the glasses as she poured, displaying cleavage and a dangerous smile. ‘To us bello.’ They clinked their glasses and drank.
She lay languidly on the floor. The cream bed sheet was twisted around her body. Her arms rippled over the new carpet. She looked like she was making snow angels in his front room. The sticky smelling candle was an inch tall. The melted wax looked remarkably like a piece of Dali art. She teased her tongue around two fingers and extinguished the flame.
‘Ciggy?’ He proffered the Mayfair pack.
‘Yesss bambino.’ She plucked one from the blue box and slid the cigarette between her fingers.
‘You’re delicious.’ He sucked on her neck hard.
‘Stop that darling. Give me a light.’
He flicked open a silver Zippo lighter with his thumb and watched the flame slowly burn the end. Her eyes were devilishly dark and framed by thick arched brows. The smoke slivered out between two orange lips.
‘I don’t like that lipstick.’
‘It’s neon bright bello.’ Her Italian accent licked at his ears like a forked tongue.
‘It makes you look like a hooker bella.’ He managed a half laugh.
Her eyes narrowed. ‘What did you call me bastardo!?’ She sat up baring her full breasts and navel.
‘It was a joke. Calm down. We always play around like this.’
She stumped the lit cigarette on Michael’s forehead.
‘Ouch you crazy bitch.’ She held it firm against his skin and proceeded to chant some sort of curse in Italian.
‘What are you doing? Get off me! Get off me!’ He felt ready to hit her when he noticed that his finger tips had begun to droop. He had no feeling in his hand. He gripped it with the other floppy hand. Both soggy hands began to drip like flesh coloured paint off the brush.
‘What’s happening to me? What have you done to me?’
‘You’re melting you stupid son of a bitch.’ She fleeced him of his wallet, laptop and car keys as he watched, unable to stand up or even crawl. He could hear his bones cracking and disintegrating, his torso folded over his legs like a rag doll. As she pulled on her burgundy trench coat and adjusted her matching leather gloves he was but a muddy brown puddle staining his new carpet.
I hope you like this one. I wrote it as part of a 'magical realism' assignment.
Cha cha
x
