Untitled out of order short story about sex and drugs.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

A short reflection on a drug fueled meeting with a stranger.

 

9/2

She said my guitar was beautiful and asked for a capo. 6th fret, Em, C, G, Dm... “The Kings Crossing was the main Attraction...” I interrupted her by placing my hand across the strings. I tell her I am not emotionally prepared to hear that song; it will probably make me feel sad. She holds my hand and tells me I have to hear it. The black wood  presses against her body and I become hyper aware of her breast resting on the cutaway. This moment is perfect. I move my hand away and tell her she is right. I need to hear this.

“The Kings Crossing is the main attraction....” She sings beautifully and I feel the universe aligning in my favor for the first time. Joy and sadness are one and I am okay with it. “His voice is overwhelming and his speech is slurred...”  the singing stops and I can tell she forgot the lyrics so I help “... and I only understand every other word” she finishes the song and we sit in silence chain smoking.

 

9/1

lonely. The girl I was dating had been cancelling on me regularly. A popular online dating service has a profile in it’s database that holds my information. Searching for matches I come across a promising looking woman that is still online, I see that she likes Elliott Smith and let her know I do too. Several messages later we are planning on meeting up at a neighborhood bar. I arrive a few minutes before she does and don’t see her come in. eventually we find each other and become very drunk. Words are exchanged but not remembered.

I add money to the juke and she appears by my side. Before  I finish making my choices her tongue is in my mouth and mine in hers. She says she needs to leave, she says she wants to fuck me, she says it won’t be tonight.

 

9/3

Tens of thousands of birds circle above us and dive into abandoned smoke stacks that they call home this time of year. Dozens of other people gather around to watch. Drinks are poured and cigarettes are smoked. The families that have gathered are not pleased with the alcohol. Somebody tells me I should watch my language. I still feel the mushrooms.

 

9/2

The bar is loud with conversation. She tells me we should do some blow, I tell her we should eat some mushrooms. I know someone who sells them cheap. The top of a bar  toilet tank makes a great smooth surface. The mushrooms arrive and the coke is in full effect. 20 minutes later the atoms of my body are being consciously controlled and two planes of existence that have never been known are opened.

We take a cab back to my house and tell the stoic russian to stick to side streets. We stop at a 7-11 to buy lager. Sitting outside she disappears. I sit and wait, she eventually returns. The four block walk takes hours. We are in my room and she asks to see my guitar. She tells me it is beautiful.



 

9/1

I sit alone in the bar. She is gone and I am very drunk. I walk to the store to buy cigarettes. She calls me and asks me to come to her home. I oblige. There is someone else in the apartment but I barely notice. We don’t sleep, we lose consciousness.

 

9/3

She calls and asks if I want to run errands with her and then watch the birds. I am still recovering from the night before and want to stay in bed. I agree anyway.

 

9/2

“This is a beautiful moment and I am happy to be sharing it with you”

 

9/4

She tells me she can’t do this anymore; she has a boyfriend, kind of. I tell her I understand but it is a lie. “Can we still be friends?” she asks and I tell her “yes”.

In this moment I know I will never see her again.

 

9/2

She asks if I hear the thunder and I let her know I do. We pull windows out of their frames and lean into the rain. We try to count the seconds between when we see lightning and hear thunder; this proves impossible.

The hills in the distance become illuminated and observation turns into fascination. Crack! Touch me. Ok. Crack! We shouldn't do this. I know. Crack! Thunder rolls and she tells me I am handsome. I tell her she is pretty and she cries. She tells me she loves me and I tell her I am out of my mind. This moment is beautiful.


 

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Submitted: September 06, 2013

© Copyright 2021 Jon Olson. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Criss Sole

I really liked how you wrote this. You have a captivating style of writing. You wrote about what happens and then your opinion on it. That got me glued to the story and I hope to read more in the future.

Sat, September 14th, 2013 12:58pm

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