Guilt - A Short Story

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
A man is offered a potion that will make his wish come true, but every wish has consequences.

Submitted: July 10, 2012

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Submitted: July 10, 2012



“The club was filled with sweating bodies and the drumming of loud music on every surface. It was alien, but at the same time inviting and accepting. It was extremely hot, most of the guys were dancing only in their underwear, and I was in a suit. The blue one, my favourite, I always wear it when I have a meeting. It gives me confidence. Anyway, this guy came up to me, he was nice and handsome; pretty young, too, probably in his early twenties. I felt a mix of apprehension and excitement, but I wanted to know which one would become stronger, and stay with me for the rest of the night. We went into one of the cabins, it was freeing as always. Don’t you think it’s funny, doctor? That I feel most free when I’m closed in a room so small most people would feel claustrophobic?”

“So you had a good time then?” the psychologist asked.

“Yes, and no. It was freeing and exciting, but I still can’t get rid of the guilt. Help me, give me something that makes my conscience clean.”

The doctor stood up, and took a small bottle from his shelf and gave it to the man.

“I don’t usually give this to my patients, as it’s still an experimental drug, but it might work.”

The man drunk the content of the bottle, and left the psychologist’s office. When the evening came, he headed for the bar again. The same thing happened that night: he met a guy, he went into the cabin, he felt the freedom, and he felt the guilt. Nothing changed, he realized, the drug didn’t work.

At dawn he went home, the house was silent and empty. He walked from one room to the other, but he could not find anybody there. Her nightgown was on the bed, laid out in preparation for the night. Their toys were scattered on the floor, as they left it. He started to get worried about where they could be at this hour.

Going around the house in his search, a weird, gut-wrenching smell caught his nose, and he went to search for its source. It came beyond the bathroom door, and when he opened it, his heart almost stopped from the fear that ran through him like electricity. The tub and the sink were painted in red, and the smell was so strong that he couldn’t handle it anymore; he retched. With tears on his face and his heart in a knot, so tight he could barely breathe, he run outside. In his panicked rush, he tumbled over something. There was a shovel thrown over freshly delved earth. He collapsed then and there, and then he remembered: the bar and the guys, the psychologist and the drug, freedom and guilt.

He pulled out a business card from his pocket, and put the digits into his cell.  After a few rings, a familiar voice answered.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“You wanted to get rid of the guilt. Now, there’s nothing to feel guilty about.”

© Copyright 2018 Szilvi J. All rights reserved.

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