Tag: marrige

The Eternal Battle – Very Short Story

Kane knew that he fucked when he entered the kitchen that morning. The room was hot and his innards were boiling on his way down the stairs – his stomach was telling him to stay in bed. Kane didn’t listen when his stomach told him stuff like that and most people don’t. His wife had a cold expression as she glanced over her shoulder, not mad but plenty miffed. He felt a growing nausea as he stepped beside her and poured hot tea into his cup. “Morning,” he said, trying to sound as casual as he could.

He didn’t add ‘sweetie’ or a ‘honey’ to that sentence like he usually did. It was dangerous; though, since when did he start listening to his stomach? It must be really bad, his survival instincts were kicking in.

She didn’t answer him and kept looking into the pot of porridge she was stirring with a wooden spoon. “Are you ready for today?” he said, sounding slightly more nervous than before. The tea in his hands trembled and he sat down at the kitchen table and put the cup away. Vapour came out from the cup and she finally turned and looked at him. She brandished a really creepy smile but he couldn’t put his finger on what made it creepy. Perhaps it was her eyes. They didn’t fit. “It’s going to be fun,” she said and sat down. She didn’t look up from her porridge.

He smiled back and took a sip. The tea was heated perfectly. He decided to take it as a good sign. They had breakfast in quiet and they got ready and stepped into the car without a fuss. “Got everything?” he asked.

“Sure did,” she said, almost cheerfully. She was clutching her bag that was resting on her lap.

“Alright then,” he started the car and drove away. They hit the highway but they weren’t going very far. It wasn’t really a big deal and he didn’t know why his wife made it out to be. They had argued a lot last night; he remembered that he’d been shouting a lot while his wife was mostly quietly pointing out the flaws of his plan. Sometimes he wished she would scream at him, become a little more passionate! The way she looked at him and shook her head, it made him feel like a child – your mother is always right, kind of thing, which pissed him off, but not today. He would get his way this time. She always got her way, otherwise. It would be good for her, he thought, and tried to bury the worry deep into his stomach but it kept bubbling up again. He wasn’t always sure what he stomach was telling him…

The building came into view and they parked the car and stepped inside. “The doctor will see you shortly,” a nurse said and they sat down and waited in the waiting room. The TV was on playing a movie silently. There were three other men waiting, both of them looking rather nervous. After an extended period of silence, he looked at his wife. “Look, honey–,” her neck snapped round and she stared back at him like a cat that regarded a black spot on the ceiling and is trying to figure out if it’s blotch or a prey worth pursuing.

His mistake was calling her ‘honey.’ “Th– this will be good for us,” he stammered.

She regarded him for a second, expressionlessly, then she smiled. “You’re right, honey, you deserve this.” He didn’t like how she put emphasis on the ‘honey,’ part.

“Mr. Johnsson,” he heard and stood. “This way please,” the nurse said. He followed her into the hallway. He didn’t have the courage to look back back at his wife. They went into a very white room. “The doctor will be here shortly,” the nurse said and left him. He sat down on a hospital bed and swung his legs like a kid. He felt good, now that it was just him and the room. He never could’ve imagined life would be this difficult, all these little concessions to other people… no wonder he couldn’t read his stomach, it was long time he listened to it!

No matter, things would be different from now on, he’d taken a stand and won, at least he felt like he was winning. The doctor came in. He was wearing the usual white coat but he wore jeans and sneakers underneath. The doctor offered his hand. “Mr. Johnsson, you want to fix your lazy eye, is that correct?”

“That’s right, doctor.”

“And why do you want to do that?”

Kane paused. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business… Is it dangerous?”

“Oh no, it’s as simple as can be.”

“Then I’d like to get on with the procedure right away.”

“Of course,” the doctor hesitated.

Kane looked visibly annoyed. “What is it?”

“It’s just that, we don’t usually do those kinds of procedures here.”

What do you mean?”

“Well, you see, your wife–.”

As soon as the doctor mentioned his wife he stood and rushed back to the waiting room. She wasn’t there. “Where’s my wife?” Kane asked the doctor.

“She’s in room 27A– sir! You can’t go in there.”

“Bite me!” Kane hurried to the door. It was locked. “I demand you open it.”

“Fine,” the doctor said. “It’s too late anyway, she’s ascending.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

The doctor grinned. “She’s becoming a new type a woman, a modern woman that can do anything.”

Kane looked at him in disbelief. They stared at each other, then the doctor laughed. “HAHAHAHA, sorry, sorry, I was just being silly,” he sniggered.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing, nothing,” the doctor said and wrapped his arm around Kane’s neck. “Enjoy your wife’s new tits!” He laughed and left. Kane Decided not to step into the room.

She came out after the procedure and they didn’t talk until he started the car and hit the road. His eyes kept slipping away from the road and down at his wife’s new chest. They were sticking out like two footballs, perhaps slightly smaller… She was grinning from ear to ear. “Are you happy?” she said.

“I can’t believe you did that behind my back!”

“Come on,” she said dismissively. “Is it any worse than what you did? Looks good, by the way.”

He looked at himself in the side view mirror. I do look good, he thought. Still, it was still a loss for him. She got what she wanted but he got what he wanted too. He suppose that’s what marriage is, a bunch of little concessions…

© Christopher Stamfors

by Stamphers

Remembrance – Very Short Story

Forewords:

There’s a war going on in my mind, in everyone’s minds, really. It’s a war between yourself and the outside world. If we entertain the idea that you have never been exposed to the world (meaning others opinions) how different would your own thoughts be? That is not to say hearing about others thoughts are bad, I think it’s more about society at large that decides what is good or bad. Again, that’s not always a bad thing, and really, it’s an unavoidable battle unless you are literally Buddha and have reach a state of utter detachment from everything wordly… What was my point again?

I guess the war in our minds, at least for creatives, is what to create: should the story be (1) what I want it to be or (2) what it should be, or already is? Because I believe stories exist independent from us and that they are there to be found rather than created. Sometimes a story isn’t what others would like them to be, and you have to change it, but that demands so much of you that sometimes you don’t want to. You have found this story (wherever stories are found) and you cannot toss it away, and at the same time, it cannot be made into something that it’s not, at least I can’t. Perhaps I can make still, even if it’s bad? Just to get it out of my mind…

“Honey, are you sure this is the right way?”

“Yes, yes, it should be right around the corner.”

“But, look, the road has stopped. You are driving on dirt!”

“We are supposed to… It’s a short cut, alright!”

She looked over at her boyfriend who kept his eyes on the road while glancing on a map that rested over the steering-wheel. The car swayed back and forth like a ship on the uneven ground; and the further they went, the more the forest enclosed them and the road disappeared in the undergrowth.

“Honey, please…”

“Okay, maybe we are lost, but I can’t turn around now. There must be a roundabout somewhere…”

She did not argue at that. The branches scraped against the car as they drove on. The man winced every time the branches dug into the coloring, creating white streaks of blemishes on his fancy red car. But there was nothing he could do and backing up would almost be worse at this point. Finally, the trees opened up and a big dirt field, half covered in patches of grass, spread out before them. There were half collapsed fences that enclosed it and it looked to them as an old abandoned parking lot. They stopped on the cleanest patch of dirt and the man threw himself out of the car. He whimpered pathetically as he inspected the damage.

“Fucking hell,” he said. “We just had to go out and see nature, didn’t we?

“Oh please, don’t pin this on me. It’s not my fault you can’t read the map.”

The man grumbled, knowing by experience arguing never lead him anywhere. Even if he won, she would find a way to sour his victory, not that the damage on the car would go away anyhow, or payed for… “Where are we, anyway?”

She looked around and saw benches dotted around, all small and half crumbled. There was some sort of platform in the distance, but it was hard to see what it was exactly. As she looked, she saw somebody wave in the distance. “There’s somebody over there,” she said. “A couple?”

“I think there is. They seem to wave us over… should we?”

The woman shrugged and gathered their picnic basket and headed to them. They were very old. They had their own picnic spread out on the table they sat on and they smiled at the young couple as they approached.

“Well, isn’t that nice,” the old woman said. “I thought this place had all but been forgotten.”

“Well, we found it by accident… I’m James, btw. This is Lillie.”

They shook hands. “I’m Kay and this is my husband Gore,” the old woman said. Gore didn’t move. His body seemed stiff as a board but his eyes were clear and aware. He made a dry exhale as if in greeting.

“Would you like to sit down?” The old lady said.

The young couple looked at each other and decided to share their meal with them.

“There must have been a lot of people here at one point,” Lillie said.

“Oh yes. At one point there were hundreds. Last year we were three couples but now it’s only us that ever comes.”

James and Lillie looked at each other.

“Oh, nothing special happened here,” she said airily. “People used to come and dance, that’s all. We actually met here, Gore and I. Remember how you danced to impress me, dear?”

A smile crept up on the old man and exhaled like a broken vacuum cleaner on it’s last breath.

“Yes, you bumped half the people off stage until you had it all for yourself, hee hee. You were quite bad at it too, I’d never laughed so hard in my life”

Again, the old man exhaled with a smile.

“Yes, I knew that I loved you too then… But oh, listen to us ramble on. What about you? Are u married?

“N… No, we didn’t see the point,” Lillie said.

The old woman smiled sadly. “That’s a shame… It’s a beautiful thing, making the promise. It might be unfashionable these days, but I think there’s nothing more important in life than find a life partner.”

They were silent for a while soaking in the sun. “Well, we should be going,” the old woman said. “I’m glad we met you. I was very sad before you came, you know. That this place would be forgotten. But now I can be rest assured that at least two people in this world will know of this place, for a little bit.”

They watched the old couple go. When they were gone, James turned to his girlfriend. “You don’t want to get married, do you?”

“Hmph, not with you,” she said and munched on a sandwich and let the quiet sink in, the leaves rustling in the wind above, never gracing them. “We should come back here next year,” she said.

“Yes… Yes we should,” James agreed.

© Christopher Stamfors

by Stamphers