Daily Creative Writing Practice - He Chose Her [Short Story]
My practice of bringing depth to simple sentences...
He looked over at her, from across his side of their double bed. The gap between them felt vast, as if they were worlds from each other, she in one place and he in another.
The passion that had kept them close for so many years was now slowly fading, like the transition of summer’s breeze to the chill of autumn. She used to look at him with desire, with a gaze full of love, as if all she needed in the world was to be held in his arms for an eternity. Now though it seemed that when she looked at him it had a slight indifference to it, like his presence was nice but no longer really required.
He watched as she rolled in her sleep, seemingly turning even further from him, her oversized T-shirt covered a frame that used to be tight and athletic, but the effects of baring him two wonderful children had loosened tight muscles into little wobbles of flesh. Still beautiful to him, but the change from see-through lacy bra and thong sets to oversized T-shirts and granny pants had only helped accelerate the dying passion between them.
Deep down he knew he still loved her but knew he also needed passion, needed a spark to make sense of an existence that now felt dull and repetitive.
He yearned for something fresh and new that would cause his heart to beat crazy with anticipation, for his blood to flow hot with electric pulses of adrenalin. He turned onto his back, a smile slowly creeping over his face as his thoughts crossed to Melanie, a stripper with unrivalled beauty that he'd recently had the pleasure of being introduced to. An introduction facilitated through his work friend Nigel taking him on a tour of Hackney's seedier nightlife.
Even now he could picture her. Tall, as if emitting her own golden glow onto the world below over mere mortals like himself. While her curves, a temple to her centre; brought an occult following of men and women who came together for the sole purpose of worshipping at her doors. He'd quickly subscribed to her religion, giving weekly donations in hopes of spreading her true religion.
For him, being in her presence was bliss. Her cool ass aura mixed with a sultry voice confident in her being of an extroverted queen, brought him from out the shell, of his introverted world.
He wanted to be with her. Right now. If even just for seconds, as brief moments in her presence would help settle the troubles of his world, help bring sense to a reality warped by man's idealism that the right way of doing things is by following societies pre-set rules.
Not Melanie though, she was a rebel to man-made commandments, simply preferring an existence that felt right for her.
Reaching from under his pillow, he brought out his Samsung, opening the system to Whatsapp as he looked than found the picture of Melanie. Her eyes covered by dark Gucci shades, her hair set as fine red curls against the picturesque beauty of her oval face. A low cut glimpse of her ample breasts reminding him of the temptations of the flesh, especially when temptation worked the length of a pole with such athletic poise.
He licked the dryness of his lips, his keypad of communication was at the ready. He could see she'd been online just 5 minutes ago. It was late, 12:17 am to be precise, but he wanted to talk to her, if even just briefly. She always told him that he should live YOLO. He decided to agree.
‘Hey Melanie, how you doing? You just came to mind so thought I'd send you a text.’ He waited in quiet anticipation, with his heart beating a little faster with schoolboy excitement. He watched as she came online. Observing how the two grey ticks turned blue. And how her greeting of ‘hey babe’ lit the screen of his silenced phone.
‘I been good, so what has you up at this late hour Mr professional?’ she added a naughty wink. ‘Wanna cum see me?’ She added a devilish grin emoji. His groin gave a salute to her command. Shyness dematerialised as the effects of her sunk deeper into his psyche and his synapses of connections for her grew even stronger. As if they were kindred spirits and she being the only person in the whole world qualified enough to understand the troubles of his existence. She was like a personal therapist for him, the only difference to match her exuberant hourly rate she wore lacy nightwear that allowed him to take a long glimpse into the realm behind her temple doors. He answered before his brain could fully think.
‘I'd love to see you.’ Pause. ‘Right now.’
Her reply was almost instant, ‘Cool, I'm at the same club, my shift is finishing soon though so you'll have to be quick.’ She added another naughty wink.
He looked to the deep slumbering body of his partner then remembered the thickness of Melanie's long thighs.
He answered ‘I'll be there quicker than you can count 1.2.3…’
“123” she replied with a grin.
He laughed ‘I'm on my way.’
He crept from his bed, the male personification of a lurking night prowler, similar to what's found during the night hours of Amsterdam's red light district.
He entered into the coolness of the night air, closing the door to his mundane existence and stepping into a world led by fantasy. A living lesson to the sins of Eve. He noticed a fox with its ever watchful eyes observing him, locking eyes with it, he saluted, from one night prowler to another. The fox trotted at pace, while he sped off in a cloud of smoke. Both rushing, as they searched for easy pickings, before the sun's rising brought to light the actions from their alternative universe.
He entered into her world, past the camouflage of sturdy doors, into a blue lit haze. A new realm of 10 or so woman, beautified for enticement. Some slim, some thick. Though both confidently showcased their areas of lovemaking through the wearing of barely there underwear, with the theme of tonight seemingly being lace.
One of them stepped to the long silver pole with acrobatic high kick flair. Spinning around. High then low. Intoxicating. Entrancing. Ending as a showcase of her legs split gloriously in two, modesty abandoned for the zombie patrons of the room.
The other girls sat laughing, heads back in fits of giggles. As lost souls of men surrounded them, in search of costly sanctuary.
His soul found exactly what it was looking for, as he spotted the swelled charms of his seductress. She greeted him with a lingering kiss. His cheeks tingled from the succulent touch. He was completely lost to her, as she led him by hands into a dungeon of privacy.
He sat seated in the presence of a living Goddess, who moved with such elegance. Hips swaying in a slow grind to Tory Lanez, Say it. She moved in closer, allowing him glimpses of her secrets, little excerpts of her femininity. She straddled him with a kiss, his head rolled back in bliss. He emptied the contents of his pockets. £200 plus change. He handed it all over as a willing sacrifice, a sacrifice he'd make over and over again, just as long as it allowed for the continuation of him basking within her light.
“Wait for me outside after my shift finishes, I'll be finished in 30 minutes. Then you can drop me home, you know... I always like your company...”
She lowered for a kiss, his cheek exploded with heat. He would have driven her to the moon if she'd asked. He would have driven her to the stars of a new galaxy if she just so much as hinted...
He hated how time seemed to move at its fastest when engaged in fun. Like Father Time was jealous of happiness so accelerated blissful moments into fleeting seconds, as a declaration to any who dared to show the audacity of actually enjoying life.
Inside her home, he found happiness, and watching her as she relaxed under the medicine of good weed had him relaxed, his nerves stilled, allowing him to glow in her presence. The talk between them was easy and unforced. Effortlessly flowing, just like how the smoke from her zoot covered her flat in puffs of clouds. Clouds that were in complete harmony with the white and silver decorations of her front room, with her as the grand centrepiece.
She sprawled her legs across him. The size of her sofa kept them at an intimate distance. Her blue mesh nightie left little for his imagination, catching him unaware like a deer caught by a 180 mph glare of lights. She knew this. Smiled at his awkwardness. Revealing ever more, through fleeting touches of herself, as if by accident. But watching with a hidden smile as he grew hotter under the collar and his burning desire became ever more apparent.
"Can you do me a favour?" she asked as her legs rubbed slowly as if innocently nonchalant over the rising heat of his centre. He responded physically and just about verbally.
"Yeah, how can I help"
"I fancy being really naughty tonight but need a party starter. Could you buy me some gear?"
He knew gear to mean coke and in the back of his mind, he knew his rent was due and could see this turning into one expensive night. He blocked further thought from his mind.
"Sure," he responded, “I'm just going to need to go cash point. How much should I take out?”
"Maybe £100 to £150…?"
Well, I won't be eating much more than a few slices of Tesco brand bread with slithers of cheese for a month.
"There's a cash point just five minutes away next to the little Tesco's opposite the entrance to Rotherhithe tunnel..."
"Cool, will be back in a sec."
He stepped onto the late night street of Tower Hamlets Commercial road. The hustle and bustle of daytime were now replaced by a few wandering souls of tired drivers who just wanted to get home and the over revving speeders racing to destinations best done at night and away from prying eyes.
He took money from the cash point, jolted from comfort as he heard the baby like screams of foxes in bitter battles for territory, as man's over ambitions robbed indigenous nature off its lands. Prodigy's Mobb Deep 'We rob land like white man' came to mind as he saw bursting from a side street two foxes running from darkness across the glares of car headlights and back to the cover of darkness as they continued their war away from prying human eyes.
For some of us, life's a constant battle he thought, feeling a connection to his fox brethren, as like them often he felt lost to man's ever-changing landscape. Raising his kids as indoctrinates to the plans of a rich man's chess game. A never-ending battle for freedom of self. A never-ending battle, period.
He let himself into the unlocked door of Melanie's flat and was startled by the presence of a large dark skin male sitting on the single chair of the two piece sofa set.
She greeted him with a smile, gesturing for him to sit down next to her. He followed her commands trying not to look the dark skinned man in his eyes.
"So this is YO," she said talking to him as she gestured at the man sitting on the sofa. "He's who I get my gear and whatnot from."
YO gestured at him with a nod, "What's up, you good?"
He answered, "Yeah bro all's good, when I was walking in I was like rah, this is a really big guy." He said this with a laugh.
YO broke into a sniggered grin showcasing pearly white teeth, a complete contrast to the darkness of his skin.
He laughed more, "Yeah Melanie was over there saying the same thing."
"Well, I tell you what, she ain't lying!" he laughed again, breaking YO into another big grin.
"So what do you do with yourself, I didn't even catch your name?"
"Spend my days slaving away to another man and my nights spent trying to seek the company of beautiful women like Melanie," he had a sudden rush of confidence.
"Women!" Melanie interjected in mock anger.
"I meant woman, besides" he gave her a mock affectionate look "you know you're my sugar spice." Both she and YO laughed. "But yeah my name’s just plain Marcus." The two men knocked fists in salute to each other.
Though Marcus at heart was an introvert, he knew the importance of being able to break tense situations via humour. His job as a housing officer in Waltham Forest had long taught him how to diffuse situations with the potential of spiralling greatly out of control.
"Hmm looks like there's more to you Marcus than meets the eye. Well, they say the quiet ones are the worse ones." She gave him a mock disapproving look.
"Oi ease up on him," YO joked "he's alright"
"And look, you all found a friend in YO," she said to Marcus fake cutting her eyes.
"Anyhow," YO said "I need to make a move as I have some other clients. So you have the change?"
"Yeah, bro." Marcus handed over the £150 making the assumption that he'd already given the gear to Melanie.
"Right, you two be good. Marcus, sure I'll see you around again. Especially if you're around that crazy girl"
"Oi!" Melanie shouted as she kicked after YO in jest. Easily side stepping her attempts, he again touched fists with Marcus before exiting the flat.
The silk blue of her nightie hugged her as she rested on her knees, swaying to a melody that only she knew. The lyrics of the melody had her in a trance as she hummed along in soulful tones. Her whole vibe charged, he could see the energy coursing through her as he looked at the offering of her neck. He wanted to kiss it, but was unsure how she'd react.
As if sensing his thoughts she looked at him with a sly smile. Bottom lip bit by the top of her pearl white teeth.
She looked to the table than back to him. A silent offering in the making. Snow white powder spread in long strips.
He'd never used before, he'd always considered drugs to be for mugs. She looked to him again, wetting her bottom lip with a tongue that flickered. He instantly felt his strong views on drugs and their users dissipate, who was he to judge. Her eyes spoke without speaking, heaven need not come at death.
Heaven started as an oval disguised as flesh, he was tired of being a square, of always doing the right thing, of always being the calm one. He wanted to be wild. Be a thing with no inhibitions. Right now was his chance and he had the perfect guide to forbidden lands.
Her apple looked ripe, as he joined her on his knees, she kissed him on his lips as acceptance. He put a rolled ten pounds to the fine strip of lines and inhaled. Rushing to an underworld he'd never known, but now knowing the fruits of its dark secrets.
He'd joined the land of the nightwalkers, Melanie accepted him with open arms and a passionate tongue. Sucking on his bottom lip with a smiling bite. Rolling her tongue across his. With her leading and him simply following. His heart rate accelerated by a stimulant. His blood pumped lava from the closeness of his proximity to her heat. She touched his inner thighs, his heightened mind exploded with magnified sensations, all he wanted was to be in her, as one.
She licked the sweat from his chin. He licked the sweat from her neck. She rolled her head back as a complete offering. Still moving, still swaying on her knees to a new song. Her soulful hums, now louder. Blood whirlpooling around his being, he pulled her to him. Enveloping her neck with his lips. Hums turned to moans, as a new nightwalker began his first meal of the flesh.
They both looked up in shock. The realm of desire was lost, reality showed its two ugly heads. The ugliest head materialised as a big angry man.
"Steven! what you doing here!" she cried out in shock
Before Marcus could respond, Steven moved with startling speed for his size. He grabbed Melanie by her arms. The back of his hand confronted the left of her cheek. The back of his hand won the encounter, the front of his hand had her singing high notes of pain.
"I told you to have the rest of my money. What, you think I'm playing with you because you're a woman!"
He slapped the meaning of life's a bitch into her.
Not knowing what was happening, but seeing his precious Melanie in trouble. He went for the bigger man without thinking. The effects of gear still floating in his system gave him the He-Man complex.
He screamed "Get off her!" Throwing a punch with all his might. Throwing like how he used to throw during his early teens of practicing Muay Thai. He kept his body balanced, remembering the importance of twisting at the hips. Of clenching his fists and tucking his thumbs. He landed a fist squarely on the mouth of Steven. The connection went thud.
Steven took the punch without registering it, He-man turned to Cringer. Cringer lost one of his nine lives as Marcus boxed the snot from his nose with a clenched fist, rattling the stability of his brain. He'd been introduced to the perils of the underworld.
He fell back, his body no longer under his control. His rib hit the corner of the coffee table. White powder covering him as if preparing for his demise and entry into the realm of wandering spooks.
Winded of body and wounded of pride, he'd been unable to save his goddess. She sobbed at his despair.
"Leave him alone!" she cried.
He was unworthy of his goddess. He fought back tears of frustration. Can a man unable to protect his woman really be called a man? Desperation made him lunge again for the bigger man. The bigger man toe punted him in his mouth. White powder flew through the air as a gust, crimson blood squirted from his mouth as a climax from his touch.
"Who's this dickhead Melanie? You better warn him. Where's. My. Money?"
"Look I'll get it to you, I swear. Just leave him."
He looked at the withering body of Marcus, the battle of a fighting spirit had been battered from him. The innate action of a man defending his woman had been ripped from his capabilities, he stared longer at the failed protector "Oh... I see now... you have feelings for this punk." His eyes shone with ill intent. "I'm a make you understand what happens when you play with my money."
He took a step towards Marcus, taking a blue tipped pen from next to the knocked over coffee table. He flipped off the lid with his thumb, he stood over Marcus. A world conquer over a captive. He ripped off the jeans of Marcus showcasing the bright whites of missus washed boxers.
Marcus felt fresh air against the bareness of his uncovered flesh, goose pimples littered the skin to his behind, his mind flashed danger, screaming get out. But he was already in the sunken place. He felt the pen tip plunge deep into forbidden lands, his sunken place, became a sunken hole.
Bolts of pain vibrated through the entirety of his body. But the vibrations of an ungodly violation rippled through the entirety of his spirit, ripping to shreds what little fight he had left. He screamed in pain but screamed more for the loss of his dignity as he knew things would never be the same again. The forbidden apple was rotten with a black viper at its core that killed indiscriminately. He no longer wanted to be a nightwalker.
Steven pulled the pen from the bloody mess he'd created. Tongue rolling in hysterics as he took aim again. The intention was to go further than the voyages of the Starship Enterprise.
"Yo! What the fuck’s going on here?"
The bigger man turned to the bad man. The badman filled the corridor with an immense aura that in the world of film would be marked as an entrance of black clouds and rumbling thunder, as he stood as one of the great rulers of this underworld.
Steven looked to YO, an earlier joyful and handsome face was now distorted to resemble Lucifer’s son. A new world of order pain stared into his foul soul. He knew he needed to exit from the clutches of an underworld warlord, quick.
Without thinking he ran towards the balcony, opened in haste the sliding of its doors. He ran through, scared to look behind, caring not to look below. He jumped from the second floor flat, choosing the dangers of the unknown over the dangers of YO. He ran through the night, like a thief in pursuit by 100's of pitchforked villagers...
Marcus laid in bed with his long-term girlfriend beside him. Still deep in sleep. She on her side and he on his.
He wanted the peace she was in. But the battling of his sanity wouldn't allow him to. The pains from his anus reminding him of the price of crossing over into the other world. His mind briefly ran to the crushed body of the fox as he had made his long journey back home. The splattering of the foxes guts, the pink of its innards stood out in bright contrast to the darkness of the roads. Like the fox, he'd gone looking for something new and like the fox, his light had been squashed. The man who left was no relation to the man who came back.
He covered his head with his hands. Digging his fingers in. Wanting to rip the flesh of his poisoned body. Wanting to rip his soul from his existence, or for it to at least burn for his sin.
He felt an arm go around him, hugging him with loving arms, hugging him with more than just flesh, but hugging him with a caring soul.
She spoke softly, her voice tired with sleep. "
I know things have been difficult with us. But I want you to know that I'm willing to do everything in the world to make this work... As I believe we're worth it... I believe you're worth it... I've always believed you're worth it... I just need you to believe in me."
His tears came down and she kissed each one.
The 4TY project is an idea I've developed from working with young offenders for close to 10 years, it's aims is in creating a safe environment for young people to pursue there passions while being mentored by creatives and entrepreneurs from different industries. If you'd be willing to support this cause and turn it into the big reality I envision for it, please click here to find out more details. Thanks for your support.