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serenity blaze
Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738


0 posted 2005-03-15 03:43 AM


She woke to find herself in an unfamiliar room with no idea how she'd gotten there. There was some semblence of familiarity; she did recognize the ache in her neck, and the dull thudding rhythm in her skull warned of tribal drums, announcing her arrival to the day. Her swollen tongue was as dry as emery--it further abraded her cracked lips in its futile search for moisture.

Water...Carla needed water.

She winced as she turned her head. The rude stab of pain blinded any hope of reprieve from her grasp of reality. There was a rock glass on a nightstand near her. It beckoned promise, much like a mirage. And like a mirage, the vision faded, sharpened, and faded again, suggesting motion as she attempted to focus through the haze of her stupor. Carla squinted, straining her eyes in a show of determination as she spied a foreign object adrift in the clear-to-amber layers of the liquid that was taunting her in the glass.

It was a cigarette butt--saturated and puffed like an over-ripe pear on the verge of disintegration. The dotted paper that housed the filter had become partially unglued, and the flap of that was drifting lazily on the surface. As if on cue, the butt turned, seeming to point at Carla, as though in accusation.

"Yeah...I'm just like you." Carla thought confession.

It spun again, another turn, as if to mock her by showing its ass. Sure enough, there on the edge of the filter was a lip print--Carla's DNA as evidenced in her favorite shade of lipstick--Clinique's Cinnamon Mocha. It was irrefutable proof of her complicity.

Carla closed her eyes, but didn't dare the sudden motion of shaking her head. She lifted herself on one elbow, grunting beneath the pain of shifting gravity as she leaned to remove the offensive intruder. She lifted it gingerly between her thumb and forefinger, allowing it to drip a bit before she tossed it thoughtlessly over her shoulder. Then Carla proceeded to do the unthinkable:

She deliberately but delicately sampled a sip from the glass.

She hesitated only briefly to brace herself before she inhaled the remainder of the vile potion.

The liquid rose with bile from her stomach, defying gravity and instinct as it spasmed up her esophogus, begging for a spew. Carla swallowed hard then, in a test of willpower to keep the stuff down. She shuddered and gagged simultaneously before she braved a tiny, almost imperceptible burp. The beads of the inevitable cold sweat began battling her goosebumps in a territorial war for her skin. It was only then that she realized she was completely naked. She looked down. Her nipples had become painfully erect as the cold shakes of morning set in.

The fatique that followed her bout of nausea was an almost irrestistable temptation to retreat back into the strange bed. The bed, she had noted gratefully, was empty but for herself. It was just Carla there in the midst of rumpled sheets, her brassiere dangling from the bedpost.

("Hey!")

She looked at the space next to her. She felt the sheet. There was no warmth, no indentation, no sign that anyone at all had slept there. Just a couple of flat pillows and--

Was that a kitten curled up asleep?

She smiled taking in the black, shiny fur of it, its head was tucked beneath a paw.

"Aw...hey little kitty!" she whispered in a croak.

She reached out to stroke the slumbering bundle, curling her palm in anticipation as she--

"Ewwwwwwwwwwwwww!" She had startled, retracting her hand from the pure death of it.

It was cold, and stiff. And sticky.

Sticky?

Carla grew suspicious.

She brought her fingers to her nose and inhaled deeply. She knew it--hair gel!

So she picked up the grotesque scalp to examine it more closely. It was, indeed, a man's hairpiece, and it had been carefully groomed and molded in to a fifties-style greaser bouffant. She looked within to the net skull cap inside to view the label. Almost instantly, she regretted her curiousity, as once again she swooned as she read:

"Elvis - TCB" with the signature lightning bolt logo.

Oh dear God, what have I done now?

But there was no one there to answer her, since of course, (this author insists)

Elvis had left the building.


[This message has been edited by serenity blaze (03-15-2005 04:32 AM).]

© Copyright 2005 serenity blaze - All Rights Reserved
Mysteria
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Member Laureate
since 2001-03-07
Posts 18328
British Columbia, Canada
1 posted 2005-03-15 04:41 AM


I do not believe I have ever read of a more interesting smoke in my entire life!  Good stuff this - waiting for part 2 as I know Elvis left alright but what was he doing there pray tell?
Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354
Listening to every heart
2 posted 2005-03-15 06:01 AM


Tapping foot...

waiting for part 2...


Susan Caldwell
Member Rara Avis
since 2002-12-27
Posts 8348
Florida
3 posted 2005-03-15 08:59 AM


hmmmmm..

he really should have cleaned up after himself.  

"here kitty"  LMAO

"too bad ignorance isn't painful"
~Unknown~

miscellanea
Member Elite
since 2004-06-24
Posts 4060
OH
4 posted 2005-03-15 11:30 AM


I agree.  Pretty incredible description.  The cigarette very could well have been a Disney animation!  (Clearing her throat, no cartoon here--just the skill of an animator to bring something to life...)  

Enjoyed your writing immensely.

hugs,

miscee

Dark Angel
Member Patricius
since 1999-08-04
Posts 10095

5 posted 2005-03-15 03:16 PM


Oh wondermous m'lady..absolutely. I felt like I was sat there in the middle of that room.

Heh and thanks for the chuckle...
Elvis had left the building.
I love it when you insist

tapping foot with Kari, waiting for part 2

mxx

and i knew in the crystalline knowledge of you
~Buckingham/Nicks

serenity blaze
Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738

6 posted 2005-03-15 06:50 PM


Thanks for reading my madness. It's truly nice to know that someone's been here.

I'll go cook supper now as I think on part II.

and thank you I can't emphasize enough how much I appreciate the comments and feedback. It's less lonely on this side of the screen when I have people with which to share my thoughts.

And yep, I'm trying to have fun with this one. I had forgotten for a while that's why I love to write.

Janet Marie
Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554

7 posted 2005-03-16 08:10 AM


was as dry as emery
---------------------------

LOVE that analogy....you just find the right little details to portray the scene for the reader...now we ALL have fuzzy tongues need a drink lol
and yes... you BETTER be having fun...cuz if you do... we will

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