Category: Fiction

Addicted to Pain

I have been successful for the last 10 days, 11 hours and 13 minutes. I have found the secret to slowing time down, and it is counting the minutes of your success daily. I am noticing sounds my mind learned to ignore. I have never noticed the clicking noise my clock in the living room makes as it meticulously counts every second of my minute achievements. I now know how often my fridge runs, and how often my neighbor leaves in his car that sounds like it praying for death. I catch all the sounds now – the sounds of my success from my demented sobriety.

I fear sleep. I fear the inability to consciously count minutes that add to my current streak. I am now a professional at braiding my long auburn hair, which is annoying because fewer minutes escape the clock now, and I have to fill the time with additional tasks. This is all so maddening to me. While other people pray for time to slow down – my knees ache from praying for time to speed up. The irony is I am almost out of time. I will strike again.

I am addicted but to something far more damaging than heroine or alcohol. People who think marijuana is harmless – Good For You! I am addicted to pain. I enjoy watching other people feel torturous pain. I comb ads, bars and websites carefully to cull the good men from the bad. I prefer men who expect me to throw myself on my back, legs spread high in the air, in anticipation of the exaggerated girth between their legs. I resent men who are so ignorant from ego that they lump me into the same pool the slut before me convinced them was real. The look on their face when I bring them home, and they understand my true intention is priceless. I am addicted to watching their minds fry like an egg in a hot frying pan, and their eyes tear from the sight of the experience and the realization they will not get laid tonight. Just thinking about it ignites my puerile behavior and my need to do it again.

Tom is a lawyer I zeroed in on when using Match.com. He clearly believes his profession is a gift to women, and he advertises his wealth standing in front of his new mustang in his profile picture. He chose the color white for his car – clearly not a dare devil.

After an expensive meal and two glasses of Dom Perignon for dessert, I invited him to my place to enjoy one of my favorite things. He was eager to accept the invite – after all my hands played carefully with his inner thighs throughout our meal. I have a feeling this experience will be better than Sebastian the doctor two weeks prior. That was fun!

We walked inside my townhouse and I offered him to get comfortable in the living room on my large black leather couch. He complimented the stone wall and fireplace on the adjacent wall while I fetched him a beer like a good host.

“Would you like to watch a movie?” I asked softly while cuddling into him on the couch.

“Absolutely!” He replied while his legs twitched in anticipation and his arm stiffening to avoid the urge to grab and adjust.

I started the movie and it only took three minutes for the collision of reality and horror to rest on his face. I find it amusing that three minutes is all it takes for all of my victims. Of course the experience never gets old for me.

Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? Spongebob Squarepants!

I begin wiggling with excitement and anticipation like a giddy school girl as the song plays to begin the movie.

After five minutes their dry mouth, caused by the inability to close their mouth while reeling from the shock, manages to force the same question no matter the guy…

“Is… Is this some kind of joke?” Tom sputtered forcefully.

“What? No! I told you at dinner that I wanted to share my favorite thing with you! Do you not like it?”

And that, ladies, is how you get a rich man to buy you a nice meal and expect nothing in return!

Social Target – Introduction

Social Target narrow

Pouring rain orchestrated a symphony my mind needed to hear, and running water danced on my feet while I walked to the beat of the song. The brisk air gave life to my breath that normally goes unseen, and the stars were missing on my walk tonight from the rain clouds blanketing the sky. Nature was guiding a balance I had not felt in a long time, and I was happy to follow along. My haunted memories would never find me here, and I had the veil of the storm to thank for that.

The rain was cold and it occurred to me my bare feet were somehow protected from the chill. My hair was saturated, my clothes soaked and heavy, but I felt warm anyway. The melancholy shelf clouds ahead lacked the haunting feeling they would ordinarily have. Instead, the storm seemed more like a warm blanket a grandma made.

The peace of the night didn’t last, although I appreciated the 15 minutes I did get. The peace was replaced with a feeling that something was trying to get my attention. The urgency was gaining strength and my heart quickened its pace while I was trying to find who, or what it was. Just then there was a whisper that danced in the night’s air with a message that was very clear.

“Remember…..”

 

Freezing Fantasy

I don’t know why I did it, but the goal wasn’t to hurt anyone. It was a moment that deserved thinking beyond myself but I ignored it. I ignored everything that should have mattered.

My frustration had been building for months. I was lonely, empty, and on fire with a desire to feel alive again. I have spent months sleeping in a bed that is cold even when it is warm. The covers and sheets feel dirty even when fresh out of the wash. The silence in the house might as well be as loud as a train and I had no control to stop any of it. I had no power to silence it. I had nothing to fill it.
I wondered into the wet, fall night with no plan or destination. The streets were cold and shinny from a rain trying desperately to freeze. The few people out were loud only because of chattering teeth and the zipping of coats. The streets felt as lonely as my home and the air equally brisk.
I walked into a coffee shop because I knew a bar would bring trouble for me tonight, Imagine my surprise when I realized a bar would have been the smarter choice. Java Coast was a small cafe 10 miles away from my home. I ordered a white hot chocolate to warm my hands and insides without waking them up at this late hour. Within three minutes my treat was ready, and as I turned to find a seat  I saw him. His eyes were piercing brown, his skin olive and polished, while his hair lavished a rich brown sheen though disheveled in style. He was watching me, and when I returned the stare, the right side of his mouth raised slightly as though to inadvertently expose his thoughts. He didn’t say a word. He just stared. Startled – I hurried past him and grabbed a table and chair in the back while half wishing I was drinking Sex on the Beach in a bar instead.
Within minutes he stood up and avoided looking in my direction. He was taking control of our encounter even though it lacked anything to control. I watched him and wondered what he was thinking, but he wasn’t going to give me anything to know. Instead he reached the door, opened his umbrella and left. I felt disappointed and terrified at the same time. What was I thinking?
Quickly I finished my hot chocolate and got up to leave only to notice him again while looking out the door to leave. He was leaning against my car and staring into the cafe – waiting for me. His breath was white against the chilled air, his face was relaxed as though to advertise patience, and his eyes were fixed on me.
Walking out I stopped about five feet away from him. It took all my energy to finally speak.
“What do you want? I am married, have children,,, Please…”
Without the ability to finish my thought he moved toward me. I felt as though someone was holding their hand against my mouth without anyone actually touching me, What was happening?
He stopped right in front of me, lifted his hands to my face to  gently grasp my jaw line, and waited for my reaction calmly. I felt paralyzed. I couldn’t move. The rain was now a light snow and the jagged flakes began to coat my eyelashes as I stood there – frozen.
Finally he leaned in and kissed me. His lips were firm and purposeful. His hands were gentle but strong and in control. My body melted without moving and my need to control the moment evaporated,
“Why?” I finally whispered.
But his mouth remained mute and his eyes did all the talking. Finally he smiled and turned to leave, but I knew what he was thinking, He would be back here tomorrow.
My reality was caught in a whirlwind, and somehow this man, this stranger, knew he would get away with taking a small piece of what he wanted without asking. I didn’t know how to feel or what I felt, and I suppose that reality is as terrifying as planning this without any fear of the consequence.

Princess Feeling

Opening the doors I was taken by the elegance of the room. The floor had a mahogany tone, and a gloss finish that mirrored the bottom reflection of each person on the floor. The walls were laced with oak wood, a few mirrors, and ivory wallpaper decorated by a gold trim. Two hundred guests filled the room and all came dressed to impress. Fancy gowns and suits added to the importance of the occasion. Ladies were decorated in gowns of various color, but all extended fully to the floor. Only a few gowns included sleeves, and a few others offered covering for the shoulders. Most of the women’s dresses were without straps, and their necks elongated by hairdo’s tucked up and tight on their heads. The men were dressed similar, but they too found ways to set themselves apart.
All men wore traditional tuxes that were black or dark grey in color. The shirts were white with some offering a silky sheen to them. Most wore a traditional bow tie, but a few flattered their attire with vests and a traditional tie tucked beneath.  The jackets either stopped at the hip, or rested short at the waist with a tail split and long down the backs of their legs. The pants were solid in color, but a few were fancied with a 2 inch strip down the outer leg of a shinier fabric of the same color. All men wore their hair styled and locked in place, and they complimented their dates nicely.
Some guests danced while other guests visited peacefully at the tables that lined the left and right sides of the room. The amber lighting brought the ambiance of the room to life, and it was breathtaking. After soaking in the atmosphere I turned to leave. I didn’t belong here. My departure was interrupted by an arm lining my lower back and a hand clutching my right hip. Just as my lips moved to speak he swung in-front of me, and put a white-gloved finger over my lips to keep me silenced. His bright blue eyes sparkled as he smiled at me slightly. His dark hair and olive skin were seducing me without effort. Who was he? What did he want? As the questions swirled in my mind he lowered his finger and gently reached for my hand. Without permission he lead me to the dance floor, and suddenly I was swallowed in the slow waltz moving the crowd. The danced seemed to last forever, but as the tune changed, he departed my presence and disappeared within the crowd.

I smiled gently as the experience made me feel more feminine than I had ever felt before. Suddenly I understood the princess feeling, but felt my midnight ending came much too fast. As I exited the floor I went back to the doors to once again leave the room – only to feel disappointed when there was no arm to take me back in.

Slow Reality

The sound was unmistakable. I heard the pounding twice. Who would be knocking on my door at eleven o’clock at night? Quietly I walked down the stairs, and turned on the outside light, while lifting my toes to look through the peep hole through my door. Suspiciously no-one was in sight. Next, I opened the door, then my screen door, and stepped onto the porch to look around, but again no soul was around. Turning around to walk back inside I was stunned to see the kitchen light on when my house had no lights on moments before. What was happening?
“Who’s there?” I called out but only silence was in reply.
Slowly I walked back inside and peered into the kitchen only to find it as empty as my porch was. Then I noticed my kitchen table, and on it was a leather journal I had never seen before. I opened it to find all the pages blank except for the first page. On that page the only writing was today’s date: November 7, 2015. The pages were lined and the journal brand new. Where did it come from? I sat it down and proceeded to walk through my home making sure to turn on every light I passed. All rooms were empty and quiet on this silent night.
I walked back to the kitchen and picked up the journal to bring back to my room. Turning off all the lights I decided it was time to turn in for bed. Just as I was about to turn off the light on my night stand I noticed a new detail on the journal. On the bottom right-hand corner was my name: Property of Renee Lee Hendrix.
Nerves kept me awake the entire night and 9 a.m. seemed to take forever to arrive. As soon as the clock turned I immediately picked up my phone to call my best-friend, Jessica. The phone rang three times before she answered.
“Jessica! Thank God you answered! I had the stranges….”
“Hello? Anyone there?” She said sounding confused.
“Jessica! Can you hear me?”
Just then I heard her hang up. I tried to call again but she still could not hear me. I then tried to call my mother but only got her voicemail. I asked her to call me right away and then hung up the phone. I walked through the house again to ensure I was definitely alone before jumping into the shower. It was time to get ready and drive to Jessica’s house. I needed someone to see the journal besides me. I just didn’t know that strange was just getting started.
Stepping out of the shower I quickly dried off and put on my bra and underwear. Walking back into the bedroom I froze at the door. On my bed lay a dress that I didn’t put there. The dress was mine but not something I would ever choose to wear on a normal day. The day had to be really special for me to put a dress on. On top the dress laid the journal. Tossing the journal to the side I picked up the dress to return it to my closet. Picking the journal back up there was a new detail on the second page. Once again the date of today was on the second page in the top right corner. Suddenly the tears were flowing down my face without effort, and I threw the journal in frustration. Putting on a robe I tried again to make phone calls, but no one could hear me when they would answer the phone. I needed help!
Just then I heard a car door close outside. Looking out the window I saw my mom and aunt heading toward my front door, but they didn’t look happy to be there. Running down the stairs I was surprised when they didn’t knock, and instead my mom used her spare key to walk right in.
“Mom, what is going on? I have had a terrible ni…”
She didn’t even look at me. It was if I wasn’t even there. She walked past me, continued up the stairs, and both her and my aunt walked into my bedroom. Once in my room my mom walked to my closet, and pulled out the dress that was on my bed just minutes before.
“She will look beautiful.” My Aunt Terri said in the most consoling tone.
“I know. She would be happier in a jeans and t-shirt though.” My mom said while holding back tears.
“Yes, but even Renee wore dresses on important occasions.”
They both turned together and left the room with the dress. They can’t see me but they think they are going to see me? And I will need a dress? My stomach was in knots and my mind more confused than ever. I watched them leave from the window and turned back toward my bed. Today’s newspaper laid open and was conspicuously opened to the obituary section. Picking up the paper, and reading the names of the recently deceased, suddenly everything became more clear.
Renee Lee Hendrix died unexpectedly on Friday, November 6, 2015. Renee leaves her Mother Martha, father Joseph, and younger sister Kaylee behind. Services will be held on Monday, November 9th, 2015 at 2p. The family respectfully asks that in lieu of flowers  donations be made to A Life Worth Living in her memory.

Stunned by my own obituary I was startled by a knock at my door. I walked down, opened the door, only this time to see a man in plain clothes staring at me. I didn’t know him, but I was relieved to see in his eyes that he could actually see me. Checking that my robe was shut I opened the screen door.
“Hello Renee. Did you get your journal?” He asked in a dry but careful tone.
“I did.” I said quizzically. “How did you put that in my home? Who are you? I demanded.
“My name is Adin. I am here to help you move forward.”
“I don’t understand. I have a newspaper that says I died yesterday, and that I am being laid to rest on Monday. How is that possible? I am not dead!”
“Renee, unfortunately your body did die on Friday. Services are scheduled to lay your body to rest on earth. Your spirit lives on and it is my job to help your spirit move forward.”
“I don’t want to be dead! I need to talk to my mom. I need to fix this. Please!”
“Your chances to fix your earth life are gone. The journal will help you to let go of your mortal life and move on. Use it. It will help.”
“No!. This is just a nightmare and I need to wake up. If I died wouldn’t I remember dying?”
“You will know everything tomorrow about the time of your death. You will remember everything at that time.” He said patiently before turning to leave.
Suddenly I was so tired. I returned to my room and went back to bed. Maybe I will wake up if I go back to sleep? Please let me wake up.
When my eyes opened from a restless slumber I found that I was no longer in my home. Instead I was at my family’s church and most everyone I knew was there. Walking around I found a room with a couple of familiar voices. It was Jessica talking to my mother, and both were crying during the conversation.
“I don’t understand. What happened?” Jessica asked in a frustrated voice.
“We don’t really know. She was found at her front door. We think she was running to get help, but her heart stopped before…”
“I have been getting phone calls from her house since Saturday. Every time I answer no one is there.”
“I got a call from her house too. I don’t know who it could be.”
I didn’t stay for the service. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to be there, and I didn’t want my body there. Instead I walked home and to my bedroom to accept my new reality. Looking down I notice I am wearing the dress my mom picked for me to wear. I sat down on my bed and opened the journal to the first page for my November 7th entry.

My name is Renee Lee Hendrix. I died on Friday, November 6th after opening my front door to run for help because I knew I was in trouble. My heart stopped from over-dosing on cocaine and alcohol, and I didn’t have enough time to get help. To my friends and family… I am so sorry!!