Thursday, 15 November 2012

Short Stories #1

A Love Story
by Mario Coleman 

Timothy loved Rebecca in his own way. It wasn’t necessarily the way that she would want to be loved, it didn’t seem as if she was the woman that he had always wanted to be with, but she took what affection she was given by him and tried to understand as best she could that when you marry a widower, you have to realise that you are only second best in his eyes. She didn’t care. She loved Timothy with all of her heart and just being with him was reward enough for her. This weekend in particular was often difficult as her Mother’s birthday fell on the same weekend as his first wife’s passing and once again she would be making the drive up into the mountains to visit her family without him as he stayed behind to lay flowers on her grave and take time to think about his long lost love. She wasn’t jealous, though she would be lying if she said that she wouldn’t rather have him accompany her to visit her Mother, but she wanted nothing other than to keep him happy and by her side forever and if that meant making a sacrifice once a year, then so be it.

Timothy loved Rebecca in his own way. She was loving and compassionate and had the patience of a saint, but it didn’t stop him from missing Heather. It had been five years since the car accident that took her life and not a day had gone by that he hadn’t thought of her. He would close his eyes and feel her with him, her skin against his, smooth and soft, the way it would raise into goose bumps as he followed the curves of her body with his hands. The smell of vanilla from the soap that she used and the way that her lips tasted against his own. He would breathe her in if he could. Consume every inch of her. Hold her body against his own and feel her warmth for all of eternity if he could. But then he would open his eyes and she would be gone. Rebecca would still be there, to comfort him, to hold him, to give him somebody to hold, but it was never the same. He married so soon after Heather died because the loneliness was so numbing that he would rather be with someone that he could hopefully learn to love than to be alone.

Rebecca left the house first thing in the morning. She had a long drive ahead of her and she wanted to get to her Mother’s house before dark. She kissed Timothy good bye and stopped for a moment to look at the man she loved. His eyes seemed empty, like a blank canvas behind a pane of glass and she could tell that he wasn’t with her today. “I love you.” She gestured at him as she stood in the hallway, coat on, suitcase in hand. “I love you too.” He replied, his sincerity as lost as a Motherless child in a supermarket. She took what she could out of the words and turned to leave, endeavouring as best she could to see the positive in the situation.

The engine came to life and Rebecca pulled out of the driveway and Timothy could hear the car as it drove all the way up the street in the quiet of the early morning. He sat at the kitchen table with his black coffee, now as cold and bitter as he himself felt, and he closed his eyes. There was Heather, standing by the stove with her back to him. She was wearing the silk dressing gown that he had bought her for Christmas and the fabric accentuated her curves as it flowed down her back and over her rear. The smell of crispy bacon was dulled only by that of the warm coffee in front of him that kissed plumes of steam from the rim of the cup, up towards his nose. She turned to ask him a question, but the words were lost as her radiant smile seemed to distract him from the rest of the world. She followed up whatever it was that she had said with a giggle which made the corners of her mouth curl up and her nose wrinkle, a sight that always made his heart melt. The dressing gown had become loose at the front and was open ever so slightly, but enough for Timothy to catch a glimpse of the curve of her breast. He wanted to feel her against him, to hold her in his arms and caress her with his hands, he needed that sensation. As Timothy stood, his eyes opened and he found himself back in his stark reality, coffee cold and grim, heart bleak and sorrowful.

The house seemed dark after returning from the cemetery. Even turning on the lights didn’t seem to remove the gloom from every corner. Soon he would be expecting company and he wanted the house to seem fairly inviting. Around the living room were candles of various shapes and sizes and lighting them he took care not to disturb the rug that lay over the wooden floor in front of the now roaring fireplace. It had been five years since Heather passed, but tonight he would finally feel her warmth again.

There was a knock on the door and composing himself, Timothy stood, brushed himself down and went to greet his guest. As he opened the door he almost lost himself in a gasp as standing before him was a girl, no more than twenty one years old, with brown wavy hair and the body of Heather in her early twenties. She wasn’t perfect, her smile was a little crooked and her dress sense and makeup was more slutty than classy, but what did he expect from a prostitute. He had been vigilantly looking for someone who matched this woman’s description for a while now, since he visited the medium who gave him the instructions and finally, last month he stumbled across the ad for Victoria. She looked just enough like Heather to pass and was just what he was looking for. “Can I come in?” She asked. “It’s bloody freezing out here.” With a smile Timothy beckoned her into the house and invited her into the living room.
“Would you like a drink? Wine? Perhaps something hot to warm you up?” She replied; “Coffee would be nice.”
“Coming right up.” And he entered the kitchen. Hitting the switch on the kettle, Timothy grabbed a mug from the cupboard and added a spoon full of instant coffee. From his pocket he pulled out a white sachet, tore open the top and emptied the contents, a white sugary looking powder, in with the coffee granules. Once the kettle had boiled, he poured in the hot water and dissolved the mixture together into a dark liquid with dark consequences.

“So, what do you want to do?” Asked Victoria as she lay across the living room rug wearing nothing but titillating lingerie and her crooked smile. Timothy, who had just entered the doorway with the coffee in hand, knelt down beside her, handed her the mug and replied; “First I want you to drink your coffee. You’re freezing and I want you to be warm for me. Then you can take off the underwear, Heather would never wear anything like that.”
“Heather? So you want to role play. Who is she? A naughty nurse? A slutty schoolgirl? What do you want me to do?”
“You don’t have to worry about playing a part for me. Anything less than the real thing would never be good enough. Just drink your coffee and let’s get started.”
Taking a swig of the warm drink, Victoria began to remove her remaining clothes. Her bra slid off of her young supple breasts and revealed perky pink nipples that stood up in the cold. She turned slightly as she pulled her panties down over her firm round backside and from behind Timothy found it increasingly difficult to not believe that this was indeed his departed lover. Now completely naked, Victoria lay on the rug, warmed by the fire, her long sensuous legs parting and inviting him closer. “Take me.” She insisted as her eyes began to feel heavy and slowly, gently, she drifted into sleep.

Victoria awoke, not aware of how much or how little time had passed, but was suddenly aware that she was restrained in some sort of manacles that had her hands raised above her head and her feet fastened to the floor. A sudden wave of fear washed over her and for a time, she didn’t even realise that she was once again fully clothed, underwear and all, but not with her own clothes. She was dressed in a green dress that she had never seen before. “You’re awake.”  Said Timothy, sitting in the chair in the corner of the room. “I’m so glad. I’ve been waiting a couple of hours, but now we can finally start.”
“What’s going on? What are you doing to me?” A petrified Victoria replied.
“Please don’t be worried. I need to borrow you for a little while, but once I’m finished you can leave, safe and sound, I promise.” Said Timothy.
“Why have you tied me up? Please don’t hurt me. What are you going to do to me?” Victoria pleaded.

“I don’t want a prostitute. I’m not looking for a fuck. My second wife is willing to fuck me whenever I want, but it isn’t the same, nothing has been the same since. When Heather died I was so in love with her that a part of me died too. I can still feel her in my memory, I still remember what it was like to hold her and feel her and make love to her, but it is only a memory. I hear a song and it reminds me of listening to that song in her company, but the song will finish and she drifts away as the music fades out. I want to feel her again. I miss her so much and I can’t bear to be without her for another day, let alone another year. So I visited as many mediums and psychics as I could find in hope that I could finally find a way to commune with her, to give myself some comfort. One of them has instructed me in a method of filling a vessel with her spirit and I have chosen you to be that vessel.”

“You’re mad!” Victoria screamed. ”HELP ME! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!”

“Please don’t scream.” Timothy replied calmly. “We are out of earshot of anyone that could help you, even if you were in danger, which you’re not. As soon as I am finished, I promise I will let you go. Now, I must finish the ritual.”

Rebecca returned home Sunday evening. She was tired from driving all day and all she wanted was to soak in the bath with a book and a cup of Hot Chocolate. That’s actually a lie, all she has ever wanted was for Timothy to love her as much as she loved him, but she has learned to keep her hopes more realistic. Walking up the drive way she sees a twitch in the curtains. Maybe he is waiting for me. Maybe he missed me as much as I missed him. She hoped as she pushed her key into the hole and twisted, opening the door. “Timothy. I’m home baby.” She called out as she entered the hall. There was a funny smell in the air, like melted wax and copper. “Timothy?” She called again as she entered the living room. She screamed in horror as Timothy’s corpse lay across the floor, throat open and blood pooled around his head. The rug that normally covers that spot on the floor was gone and strange symbols and runes had been drawn on the black floorboards with white chalk. The candles that had surrounded the room had melted down and wax surrounded him like an ominous circle. Rebecca continued to scream hysterically amid the gurgles of tears that streamed down her cheeks and burned her throat red raw.

“Oh please be quiet.” Rebecca span on the spot to see Victoria behind her, still in the green dress, but with an arc of blood splashed across it that had turned brown after a couple of days of drying on the garment.

“WHO ARE YOU? WHAT DO YOU WANT?!” screamed Rebecca, anger reaching through the fear and spitting venom at this murderess.

“What’s the matter? Do you not recognise me? I know it’s been five years, but I thought that you would always remember the woman you murdered!”

“Heather?” asked Rebecca with a pathetic whisper, suddenly all of the fear and rage being replaced with disbelief.

“That’s right. Heather. The woman in the way of you and the man you always wanted. So what do you do? You tamper with my brakes and wait for me to die, so that you can have Timothy all to yourself. And what does he do? The pathetic man that he is, does he investigate my death and try to bring me some justice? No! He marries you, the woman who killed me! And now you both get to join me.”

Rebecca screamed one last time, but this time it wasn’t through gurgled tears, but a throat full of her own blood.


  1. Hey, Mr C ... wow, what a great short story - the kind of thing that would, in my opinion fit nicely in the Dark Horse 'horror' category of floppies or one of their prose/comic collections (Dark Horse Book of Hauntings type thing!) ... truly can't wait to see someone capture what you do with equally amazing artwork. And maybe there's a self-published set of short stories in you waiting to come out and see print also?! Will be sharing this with my FB friends and hope you get a few more hits, my friend!

    1. Cheers Mr G! Being published by Dark Horse is most certainly something I aspire to do. Thank you for sharing this and as always for your kind words!