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The day of a successful business man/woman is being plagued by short episodes of trembling and of feeling disgust. Going back to the hotel room, after a prolific day of work, it realizes why its body kept trembling and why it felt a disgusting taste in its mouth.


Submitted:Feb 25, 2014    Reads: 83    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


I tremble, they're gonna eat me alive. If I stumble, they are gonna eat me alive. That's how the song went.

I woke up, it was night time. Heaven knows when I went to sleep this time. I can never seem to know time all too well. Different place, different time, who knows if it is day, if it is night, who knows if the sun keeps shining or if the moon keeps circling the Earth. Displeasure takes over my body and a taste of disgust slips over my tongue. Damn, it happens again. I don't drink, I don't smoke, no drug has ever touched my mouth and yet this taste of disgust comes once in a while. I get up and take a shower. The water feels good on my skin. It is like an antidote to the venom I feel on my tongue.

I get dressed and look in the mirror only to check if my eyes are still red from the moments right before I fell asleep. Damn, they are still red. The veins under my skin feel tight. That disgust comes again. I eat something and drink my coffee. I get in a taxi and go to my next meeting. Work forces me to forget that dreadful taste of disgust left since right before I fell asleep. I see faces, I see eyes I am probably never going to meet ever again. I see hair, skin, clothes, lipstick and belts, bags and shoes, I see phones and paper, lots and lots of paper, be it green, white, red or orange, a lot of paper.

I finish and I get back into a taxi and tell the driver to take me to my hotel. The address seems strange to me but this isn't his first drive there. He looks in the mirror and catches a glimpse of me right when that taste of disgust gets a hold of me again. I fight it off, but it stays there, refuses to waste away. I look at the tall, glass buildings as the car takes me back to the same room as every night, the same white sheets, the same 4 walls, the same bed in the center of the room, the same door that leads to my bathroom, the same entrance and the same key. The details change from town to town, but the general description is the same: five star hotel room, perfect clothes, perfect hair, perfect scent, perfect shoes.

I get inside and I open the mini bar: a bottle of whiskey and one of wine. My disgust only increases as I see both. I don't want either. I tasted both some time ago, not directly, but I did, I felt them both on someone's lips. The smell of both disgusted me just a little bit more. Those red lips and white teeth indulged themselves a bit too much in the two.

I fell on the bed exhausted from the disgust. I woke, hopped in the shower again. Toothpaste tastes good, but, as soon as I returned to the room, disgust covered my senses again. Then I look to the other side of the bed and I see the body. My door had a "Do not disturb sign" so no one else entered, no one had moved the body left dead there. Just looking at her from across the bed I could feel my disgust getting stronger and stronger.

Her red lips still had the taste of whiskey and wine. She looked not even a little bit less good than she did when she was still breathing. Pretty in red, long black, silky hair, red shoes and red nails. It was all a pool of red, too much for me. Her hand moves. No it is just my imagination. She lies on the floor, face down, her head turns. No, again, this is just my imagination. Her hands move and push the body up, her legs crookedly try to put the whole body in an upward position, but it is all for nothing as she falls to her knees. A second try gets her up.

I tremble, they're gonna eat me alive. If I stumble, they are gonna eat me alive. That's how the song went. Her hands, her legs, her lips, her eyes, they are gonna eat me alive if I tremble. Stop, stand still. Make a move and she will devour you. Let her fall again, let her die once more, let her get lost in her own disgusting thoughts. Such a pretty little thing, drowning in red, she fell again. In every time zone, every room, every town, every time I see her, she falls again in her own pool of red and disgust.

(Please do not copy or redistribute this work. Thank you for respecting the rights of the author.)





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