Supriya's Banter
The keys clink.
The hinges groan, and the door swings open with the guttural cry of a hurt animal. A timid yellow light crawls in, only to be choked seconds later by his stocky body.
His stench wolfs down all the air in one greedy gulp. All that is left is the reek of cheap cigarettes, pungent sweat and the rancid odour of his wanton lust.
I hold back a gag.
His trousers’ zipper hisses as it comes undone.
He sinks into me—a massive mound of greasy flesh, pawing at me. Mauling. Clawing. Tearing in.
My core shudders. It feels like a gazillion jellyfish are stinging me—pouring the angry venom, hacking their relentless stingers back and forth.
One never forgets a jellyfish sting. My first time was while holidaying on a beach. How long has it been? Ten months? Ten years? An aeon? I am not sure. You forget a lot when you are snatched and locked in a dingy, smoke-stained room by a stranger.
I lie stock-still. Like the olive-green mould on the ceiling. Or the coffee-coloured stain on the dirty-white carpet where I had expelled an eight-week- ill-formed baby last summer.
He drives into me again and again. The headboard knocks against the wall – bam – bam – bam.
Minutes tick. Every nanosecond lasts for a million years.
And then something happens. My fingers brush against the hammer he had brought in yesterday to fix something.
Gripping it, I slam it into him with all my fight. A fountain of red pours forth.
At the doorway, momentarily, I hesitate.
I stare hard at his chest, eyeing for the slightest movement. Nothing.
A long road winds ahead. The trees against the western skies, aglow with shades of crimson and chocolate brown, drop their leaves in soft swirls, beckoning me.
I walk, at first, slowly. Then I run. Faster and faster.
The wind strokes my face and whistles in my ears. My hair whips wildly.
I fly through groves, grasslands and dewy meadows. Wide. Endless. A sea of flowers sway to and fro—bursts of yellow and purple—like a patchwork quilt.
The clouds drift lazily, unhurried. A brook laughs somewhere.
The sun is everywhere—on the treetops, on the branches, hazing the field in gold glitter and bathing me in its warmth.
I stop in my tracks, suddenly aware of a shooting pain in my legs. I stare at my bare feet and then at the jagged rocks and wiry bushes dotting the path.
Ah! In my haste, I had forgotten my…
“…shoes!” I gasp aloud.
Thwack! A resounding slap on my cheek jolts me out of my daydream.
“Shoes?” He sniggers, burning another hole in my leg with the orange end of his cigarette. “Trust me, you don’t need shoes, little skank. You aren’t going anywhere for a long, long time!”
I clench my eyes shut.
The jellyfish strike back with a vengeance. Once again, their slimy tentacles coil around me as they gouge me with their razor-sharp stingers.
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WC-499
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Picture Credit: Noemi Szabo ( Unspalsh)
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Written for a short story contest for ArtoonsInn.
Prompt: Write a story where the main character starts and ends in the same physical location.
