You Can't Marry Lattepunk
Lattepunk
This week I’ve been reading The Three Body Problem, which is a show on Netflix, and I’ve really been enjoying it. It’s put me in a mystery mood. This past weekend I had a dream, maybe even a nightmare, that I’ve had on my mind everyday since. So instead of going to therapy to figure it out, I going to get out of my comfort zone and write something different this week. I made a short story in the horror/mystery genre based on my dream. Enjoy!
Un
The body lays on the floor, stiffly. The floor is cold. Not from the material, but from the emptiness of the room. This place isn’t visited often anymore. From a distance a voice can be heard. The words can’t be distinguished, but the voice is familiar.
It gradually grows louder, but fades as if it were a drunk attempting to walk home. The voice is approaching. The voice enters the room, still swaying, filling the room with the body in it. Although the words can’t be deciphered, the voice was almost recognizable. Is that, my voice?
My eyes snap open.
The room seems to have been abandoned years, maybe decades, ago. Remnants of an old way of life. This seemed to be a showroom of some sort. Pieces of a car left over next to the crumpling infrastructure. This place hasn’t seen natural lighting in ages. Every noticeable detail highlighted by a faint fluorescent light barely breaking through the debris, helped only by my eyesight which seems to have naturally adapted to the darkness. All this is noticed through my peripherals, my eyes solely focused on her.
She was crouched above my limp body. Wavy brunette hair down to the shoulders, her pale skin accentuated by the bright red dress she wore. She was easily visible, as if she were a source of light in this dark world I awoke to. Her face, familiar but not known, showed something of compassion, maybe care, as she looked down at me. She used a hand to rub the pendant she wore around her neck, rubbing constantly as if she were to summon a genie out of it. Protection? A chain handcuffed to her wrist lead down to the floor. My eyes followed it to see a speaker attached to it. Even as it rolled next to me, the words couldn’t be made out. But now it’s clear, that’s my voice. Coming out a speaker, tied to this woman’s wrist.
Her voice, soft, as if expressing sorrow, spoke, “You can’t marry me, Luis. You can’t marry me.” My body stayed frozen in place. My eyes searched her face, not knowing what to look for. With a hint of urgency, she said, “Remember…you can’t marry me tomorrow.”
As she starts to get up from her stance, it’s as if someone pulled the power cord out of the wall controlling me. My eyes, my mind, just… shutdown.
Deux
The body, still, lays on the floor. I’m suddenly jolted awake by a voice. No, voices. These aren’t distant, they’re in the room with me. My body rises, as if controlled by something, someone, else. My purpose has finally arrived. It’s not difficult to find the source of the noise. The taller of the three is holding a dim lamp. No smell of kerosene. Is that battery powered? Dimmed though? Must be solar power. They’ve seen light!
Three of them stand in front of me. On the left a skinny one, maybe a teenager, stands with his hand in his oversized fatigued jacket. His hand seems to be gripping something. He whispers to the one in the middle, “You got this man.”
The taller one, in his raggedy orange bubble coat and torn jeans, chimes in, “This is the only way! We need impress the condemned. You got to do this!”
“There’s not many left. It’s the only way we can ever leave this place”, Fatigue follows up. They’re both talking to the man in the ripped black hoodie and black sweatpants. Their eyes locked on him. His eyes locked on me. He puts his hands up in a boxers stance. From the looks of it, this is something he’s seen others do but never truly practiced himself.
This.
Again.
Hoodie steps forward. I stand there unmoved.
“We need this”, one of them said.
When he’s reached arms length, he hesitates for a split second. His shoulders gave it way. He swings recklessly with his right. The motion comes…mechanically to me…
Step
Pivot
Swing
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