Four Short Stories by Artistikem
Astrid H. Cruz
Published by Astrid H. Cruz at Smashwords
Copyright 2010 Astrid H. Cruz
Discover more stories by Astrid H. Cruz aka Artistikem at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/artistikem and www.artistikem.com
The Winter Man
He was sitting there, on that same park bench that has been written about thousands of times in poems, novels, songs, stories. I watched him from behind a tree as he flipped the pages of his book. Lonely bench, lonely man. And I just watched, the winter in his hair, in his skin, in his eyes.
Time burns slowly when you are watching. He flipped a page, softly, in a way that seemed more to be caressing the pages than turning them. He was a gentle man, a winter man. His eyes looked down the length of his nose, a cold stare rather than one from a man entirely warm, and alive.
A shiver went down my spine. He looked about him and back into his book. I was safe behind my tree, my hands clenched to the rough texture. Too shy to step closer and too frozen to step back. His winter was catching up with me, the coldness was creeping on me.
He sighed.
And it was like a wave of warmth came on to him. Even in his winter, there was something left in him, hidden. I was determined to find it.
Then again, I couldn’t move.
He rose to his feet. I thought he was leaving, that I had lost my chance, even if it was to blurt some incoherent words at him. But he sat again, he was just stretching out his legs, his long wintery legs. His eyes dropped back into his book, back to the cold stare, to caressing the pages.
I sighed.
Looked down at the dry grass and the roots of my tree.
“Did you know that I can hear you?” The cold went in through my ears, into my chest, my stomach.
He turned around. His wintery gust hit my face and I shuddered. He walked away, his winter walked away from me, and all turned warm.
Stabbing
Spree
Many
times my mother told me: ‘Do not run around with scissors.’ Well,
this is not a scissor, this is a knife.
And yes, I’m running. Running and painting the floor with the tiny red drops of warm liquid that drip from my hand.
I stabbed him. I didn’t mean to. It wasn’t what I thought would happen. We argued, we always did. I had a knife with me, I always did.
Maybe he is not dead. I stop. What if I didn’t kill him and then he’ll call for help and the police will come and he’ll say it was me?
Not that they’d find any motives. Or could they? No, no, impossible. Everybody knows I’m a…clean? Well-kept? Normal? A person, yes, but…
Oh God, I can see it now: Mayor’s daughter stabs boyfriend, flees the scene. Damn! Dad will kill me for sure. What was I thinking?
Oh yeah, I know what I was thinking. I was thinking that the little bastard wanted to dump me. And no one dumps me.
The dumpster! Yes, yes, like in the movies. I’ll go back, throw him in the dumpster, go to the police and report him as missing.
My tongue feels cold against my lips again, yes, that will do, the dumpster will do. Now I run back, I should clean this knife and hide it.
No evidence. The traces of blood on the floor? There is a storm coming in today, the rain will wash it away.
No one will doubt on me, I’m the mayor’s daughter. I’m innocent, I’m kindhearted, I’m amiable… I’m fucked! Where the hell did he go?
The alley is the same, the pool of blood is there, I can still hear the echo of his voice whispering for mercy. But…he…is…not…there.
A police siren? No, ice cream truck. Daddy always bought me ice cream, actually, he bought me anything I wanted. Where did this bastard go?
Hard, stiff, pressure, slowly penetrates, cold then warm. I am on my knees, repainting the pool of blood under me.
He leans over me, drops of his blood tapping on my cheek. ‘You can have a knife, but it’s another thing to know how to use it.’
‘Bastard’ it hurts to grunt when you are wounded. He flips me over so I can see how he shoves his knife, repeatedly, in me.
Silent
Crimes of Love
The
long ballroom stretched out through the main floor of the hotel. A
quartet of strings served as the perfect background for the loud
buzzing taking place.
Helena, in her long black dress, glided through the room. Her mischievous eyes would encounter some male ones and smiled, much to the discomfort of the women around. She was there alone, as always. Every man knew her, every woman disliked her and she liked it that way. There was not a man in the room that hadn’t fall for her charms at least once. However, marriage was something she had always ran away from. Commitment wasn’t her style, she preferred to have them all and feel like a queen than become a slave under one man’s wing. Lately she had thought of changing that, at her age it is expected for a woman to have a home and a family. Only one man could ever occupy that place and he was there.
A few steps away, Anne felt the instinct to pull her husband’s arm and break the eye connection he had with Helena, she was repulsed by the woman’s presence. She restrained herself; it lasted for less than ten seconds. However, it was her husband’s sneer that gave her that revolting sensation in her stomach. Sebastian, Anne’s husband, quickly strode Helena’s way. Anne sighed and stayed behind, she had promised not to leave Danielle’s side. “At least you still have him.” Danielle’s voice was almost inaudible under the heavy buzzing. ‘Why would I be happy to have him if I feel like losing him every day a little more?’ Anne thought to herself under the consoling smile she was giving Danielle. Every time he walked away from her side to talk to another woman she was reminded of the many times she had regretted marrying Sebastian. She wasn’t blind to the fact that he was an unfaithful husband, even when she tried to act as oblivious about it as she could.
Peter, Danielle’s husband, had died a year before. He was a good, well-mannered man, caring and protective husband and father. He had every quality Sebastian lacked. Danielle’s life revolved around her husband and the children they had together. Peter made sure that her soft hands never had to grip anything harder than a flower’s stem. After losing him, Danielle had shut herself in. This was the first time she had gone out of the house since. She was there because of Anne’s insistence. “I think I’ll be leaving early.” Danielle said, taking the champagne to her small, thin lips. Anne couldn’t hear her, Sebastian’s handsome profile was too close to Helena’s.
Katherine walked quickly through the groups formed by people chatting their way through the party. She had an elegant blue dress and her hair swayed gracefully with her light steps. Men would turn as she walked by them. Even Sebastian took a glance of the sixteen year old who had developed a body worthy of a magazine spread. They had all seen her grow up, knew how much she had struggled through those awkward stages adolescence likes to put humanity through. In spite of all that, she had turned out as beautiful as beauty can make. The gods of elegance and grace had blessed her. Sebastian kissed her small hand and tallied her as he was used to with shipments. Katherine blushed at his maverick demeanor, she knew him very well and his acceptance was all she was wishing for that night. Her father had served in the military with Sebastian and she was used to see him around in family gatherings and parties. During her life she had admired Sebastian’s poise and looked up to him as an example of an extraordinary man. With the deceitfulness of eyes that haven’t seen much of the world, she not only looked at him, she dreamt about him.
Helena cleared her throat loudly. She was standing next to Sebastian and felt insultingly obliterated from the scene. Katherine smiled innocently at her before walking towards Anne. Sebastian gave Helena a reprimanding stare and followed little Katherine through the room. Even when it wasn’t pleasant for Helena, Katherine reminded her of herself at that age. When you are young and full of life and all that counts is to find the approval of those you admire. Playful as she was, there was almost no trace of the joyful young woman Helena once was. Above all, she was reminded of how much time had gone by since she felt delighted by a man’s truthful attention, especially from the only man she considered of her stature.
Sebastian was tall and good-looking, a decorated man of war and known heartbreaker. Anne was his fourth wife and the most tolerant yet. She was the only one in the room that didn’t think of him as good wine, the older the better he gets, for he was a bitter man and even evil when he wanted to. His charms made the women around him sigh, his eloquence attracted him admirers everywhere he went. When Anne met him, she thought not of him as the love of her life, but a good candidate to form a family with. She couldn’t have been more wrong, not only he didn’t have intentions of having children, he would also keep her up all night waiting for him to get home late under some badly crafted lie.