I haven't made a post here in a very long time. There is a good reason for that, and I promise, it's not just me being lazy. (It's just me being lazy)
And so, I found myself forced to find a competition and in that competition find my drive to write. Needless to say, it's a day before the deadline, and I have four hours in the day left to write about 3,000 words. And I'm sitting here writing this stupid intro for my blog post. I'm not winning this am I? Well, there you have it, and now I leave you to marvel at the amazing prowess of my writing with my jaw-dropping research into the matter in the past few months. I'm magnificent.
DISCLAIMER : I wrote a slightly different piece to what I normally do for the purpose of this competition. It involves things that I would perhaps not be comfortable reading myself, and I would recommend that if you have the potential of being triggered by sexual trauma type things then you shouldn't go through this.
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“Could I bum a fag off ya guv’?”
Rotating his neck ever so slightly, the man looked down at
the source of the voice to spot a figure huddled in ragged clothes with
crumpled up balls of newspaper rolled up between her joints decorating the
cracked pavement and raised an eyebrow questioningly. Heavens only knew how she
was able to see that slight movement through her gloved hands – ripped at the
ring finger – constantly rubbing together having frosty breath being exhaled
onto them.
“A fag guv’. Never heard o’ them? Reckon a dapper lad like
you haven’ then eh. Ya’ reckon I could get a smoke off of ya? I saw you flippin’
a zippo on the pavement – “, bending down to comfort the girl – who had just
broken out into a wheezing cough – he straightened his suit, slid onto the
cold, uneven floor besides her and pulled out two brown cylinders.
“Are you sure you want to be smoking? I realize it’s getting
frosty but you seem to have an absolutely nasty cough going there…” Letting a
throaty laugh escape her lips as she saw him lean back against the wall, she accepted
the lit zippo – adorned with an Aston Martin sign – along with the cigar tip
about an inch away from the flame, she stopped coughing for long enough to
reply “Well, we got a proper gent here don’ we. Don’ worry guv’. The cough ain’t
going before I do. But what do we got here? A proper fancy cigar isn’ it? Very
kind guv’, very kind. And course you gentleman enough to sit down with this
poor lil’ blonde and have a few puffs with her?”
Remaining silent, he retracted the zippo, bringing it
towards his cigar and held it about an inch from the tip. Pausing only to pop
down the cover and relight it against the flint after a draught blew out the
flame, he let the blue flames toast the cigar till the end started glowing with
a few embers. A minute passed. Then two. Still coughing on the end of the cigar
occasionally she replied, “Ya’ know. You a quiet one you are. I guess you just
sittin’ here for a trick. Can’t say I haven’ done it before. Can’t say no to
you either on a frosty one like this here. You got the money for it I can see
that. An’ I could use a roof over me head and some spare change makin’ the
pocket heavier. Why a dapper lad like you’d want this used ol’ trick I don’t
know but hey I ain’t complaining. Whatever rocks yo’ boat they said. Money got
no provenance after all.”
“It’s a cold night. I wanted a smoke. You don’t smoke alone
on a night like this. But I suppose I haven’t got anyone to smoke with, anyone
to share a story with.”
“You sound lonely guv’, the street’ll learn you a thing or
two about that. Sound like you could use a trick. Right now though, we can enjoy
these fine fags you got us here. Top dollar these are. Course, they leave a
bitter taste in me mouth all the same.” She paused, only to rip apart some more
of the newspaper surrounding her and tucking it into the nooks and crannies of
her sleeves that were left unfilled. “Helps you keep warm you know. Saw it inna
movie once. Something about insulation or whatnot. All I know is the blokes
down the block are kind enough to give me some of their ol’ blankets and newspapers
if I give ‘em some company once every few months. Even let me have a sip o’ there
wallops.”
Sighing as he absentmindedly scratched his legs to fight the
cold, he looked over onto the face of the girl sitting beside him, failing to
see anything but the wisps of blonde hair coming out of a face wrapped in rags
and scarves and two bright blue eyes before replying, “A bitter taste? And why
would that be? I can’t say I wouldn’t mind some company in a while but right
now I’m not quite so sure yet.”
Pushing herself further up against the wall with her free
hand, she brought the cigar end to her face and let the warm smoke waft onto
her skin. “That’s not a story. Not for a lad like you. That’s a nightmare that
one is. Some memories you take to the grave.” Smiling and easing her way closer
to the man she leaned against him, newspaper balls crumpling in her clothes as
she did, and whispered into the man’s ears, “How’s about we make some new
memories for you to tell your other dapper friends stories about?”
Unfazed – perhaps due to the cracked lips and infrequent
coughs that accompanied that sentence – the man thrust his fingers into a
pocket again, this time pulling out a small paper note, leaning close enough to
feel her breath frost onto his lips and slid it in between her barely-open lips
before retracting. “How about I hear an old one first while we wait for my car
to get here. Then we can see what … memories … the two of us can make. Take my
word for it girl; I’ve shot down as many nightmares as you’ve lived through. I’ll
make it.”
Trembling fingers snatched the note out of her mouth and
slid them down into the maze of rags that she was wearing, as if fearful of the
gift being taken back into his possession.
Tilting her head back and resting it against the wall, she
blew out a smoke-ring into the chilly night air and continued with a quavering
voice while her gaze was locked at the starless sky, “This is a bit of a harsh
one. You sure you can handle it stranger? Eton-looking lad like you might not
be able to stomach one like this you know.”
He stopped rotating his cigar, letting the bottom end burn
quicker. Breathing out the smoke without removing it from his mouth he lingered
in thought until noticing the cover becoming uneven and quickly rotating it a
little to even it out. Taking a deep breath in, he decorated the street with a
smoke cloud and let out a sharp nod. “This Eton-looking lad will stop you if he
deems it so.”
“Was ‘fraid you’d say that. Don’t particularly want to think
about it again ya’ know. Not that I ain’t told this story before no; there’s no
shortage o’ poor buggers who asked me about my story and regretted it later. I
reckon you ain’t going to be the first nor the last one who did. Now, this
gonna be a bit of a strange request but try not to interrupt me. Is hard enough
for me to get the ball rollin’ without it stopping in between because the poor
buggers want to pat me on me back or ask me ‘Why?’ or ‘What?’ or something like
that.
“Patting me on the back, can you believe somethin’ like
that? It’s ridiculous it is. Like bloke I’m your trick. You talkin’ to me cause
of some messed up psychological stuff you got goin’ on in your head or
something. Missin’ your mam or so. I don’t know okay? Knew a shrink once who
told me that stuff. Never did pay attention to him. Anyway I’m gettin’
something. What do you posh lads call it? Right right. Sidetracked…
“It started when I was twelve ya know. Ended when I was
twelve too. Guess I was a lucky one. If you could call that lucky… See my folks
were a good sort. They loved me, in their own special way. But you know how it
gets. They gave me the clothes off o’ their backs they did. But just wasn’t ‘nough.
Couldn’t do anything about it. Man can only stuff so much newspaper before you
run outta places for the newspaper to be stuffed. Not that there wasn’t plenty
of space between me ribs. Could see them easy. Me mam was the same way. She did
what she could but a trick’s only as good as them who pay her.
“This where you think me da was a drunk. And I won’t say he
wasn’t. There were days when he went out and bummed the cheapest swill he could
in exchange for cleanin’ out the barrels at the pub. But we couldn’t afford it
see. They couldn’t afford me either.
“Well, whatever it was for, booze money, money for makeup or
fixin’ that one pair of heels she had that was a size too small for her they
said they be better of without me. Can’t say I blame ‘em for that. Everythin’
that happened after that, that’s a separate story. I found meself sittin’ in a
car, real nice and suave-like you know. Proper class-act. Think it was a Royce,
’67 model. Even remember the plates of that goddamn thing – LXB 666.
“Now ya see. I was a young gel, that I was. Hadn’t even bled
my first then. He changed that didn’t he. Made me bleed that night. All the
while he had this cigar in his mouth, kinda like the one we smokin’ right now.
Come to think o’ it. He always smoked when he was playin’ his games with me.
Now, I know what you thinking. Poor little thing, victim of sexual abuse she
was, but she one of many she is. Ain’t a day go by that I don’ read in my fancy
little paper that I get delivered to my doorstep that I actually go ‘bout
reading instead of rolling it up and keepin myself warm with it and I read
about a case like hers in it every day.
“Yeah well you can suck it. There was a few cases like me.
But they didn’ make it. Far as I know I was the only one who did. See this
geezer he was proper twisted in the head. He used to play games with me all day
and smoke in between me most the night. And they be some messed up games. For
one thing, he made me be a lady as he says. Never gonna be a lady no more after
what I went through. He learnt me how to use spoons and knives and eat like ‘civilized
people’ he said. And oh man did he get angry if I did something wrong.
“See, he had this candle burnin’ there. Always it was burnin’. And now what he used to do was he’d give me
this real stylish six course meal and put down all these different spoons and
forks and glasses that he had for his own food too all around the big ol’
dinner plates. And he’d always mix ‘em up he did. And now he’s got hisself a
little blonde girl sitting at a table lookin’ at spoons and forks and knives
she ain’t ever seen in her life. Obviously I was gonna screw up.
“Now, what he did was, every time I screw up and use the
fork for a spoon or a small spoon for a big spoon or somethin’ like that he got
real angry and ya’ saw it in his face. It’d get all red and he’d start puffin
that cigar like it was the end o’ the world or something. And now he’d put that
spoon in me hand and he’d make me put it onto the candle and keep it there till
I got tired. All the meanwhile he smoked that special fag o’ his that cost him
like fifty quid a pop … What was the name … Some French stuff or something,
tough to say…
“Louixs.
“Well. Who cares about that I guess. Just him and his
gold-lined pockets. So this geezer he made me take that spoon away from the
fire when it got real hot and pulled me close to him, proper violent like, more
than a few scrapes he left on the floor when he dragged that chair that
probably cost him more than I did. Now what he did was rip something off o’ me.
And we’re talkin’ some real fancy clothes he got me. He’d just rip something
off, anything he could get his hands on to expose some skin. And then he’d take
me hand, spoon and all, and he’d make me press it to me skin and keep it there
till it cooled down. And oh boy did I scream. And he did it till I was left
whelping. I was just twelve ya know. Maybe woulda been different now but I
doubt it. Still remember his face, all twisted up in pleasure while he saw me
screaming. Wasn’t all bad ya know. Those were the nights I slept alone, no
coughing or anythin’.
“Though he did plenty for this pet cough o’ mine, oh yes he
did. Used to stuff the lit end o’ the cigar into me mouth if I took the spoon
away before he thought it was cooled down enough. Felt like I had a fire burnin
up my insides back then. Never did get away from this cough I got now. Blame
all the time I had that coffin-stick put to my mouth back then.
“Not that tha’ was his worse no no no. That twisted bugger
he was always gonna have worse for me. But I popped didn’t I. Couldn’t take it
no more. Tried to run away this one time I did. He caught me, dragged me to a
room and threw me inside and turned the lock on me.” She shuddered, for once
obviously not from the cold, and a dead look came into her eyes as she
continued with a steely voice.
“Was filled with his ol’ interests as he called them. All in glass coffins, snow-white style.
Only that little dwarf didn’t leave ‘em any clothes on. Could see all the scars
in all o’ them. Some had meat carved outta their legs even with maggots
crawling through their eye sockets. Could see that they’d been there a while an’
he probably took care o’ them otherwise they wouldn’ be intact ya know? Scared
the life outta me.
“Now that geezer, he was a special one. He went to such effort
to screw with me head you’d be amazed. The first time I got through a meal
without botchin’ up my forks and knives you shoulda seen the look on his face.
Real proud, all fatherly and whatnot. Tells me that he’s got a real surprise planned
for me. Says involves a special someone meetin’ me.
“Now see, that made me ‘fraid. And would ya blame me? After
all I been through, bein’ locked up in that indoor graveyard an’ all I was
obviously ‘fraid. But that geezer, he locked me inside a different room this
time. Was a maze ya know. And gee, was I happy when I got in. See now, here’s
the thing about tricks. They all got some signature things to make ‘em seem
more sexual or more exotic ya know? They name themselves weird little names
like Jasmine or Chastity or something. But they all got a little personal
somethin’ too. Makes it more ‘spensive to be a trick than you’d expect.
“So see, you gotta have this makeup goin for you – “ sighing
as she lowered her scarf to show a caked-up face before hiding it again and continuing
“ – and you gotta have some heels.
Somethin’ that screams that they’d do anything for you and they outta your
league. Ain’t true or anything, but gotta do what you gotta do. Most cheap
tricks even doused themselve’s in cheap perfume cause not everyone got a place
to shower enough. You do three, four jobs a day you end up sweaty. Gotta use
perfume to hide that stink and hope the other lad boozed up enough not to
notice. So me mam she had this specific perfume that she always had on, cost
her a quid for a bottle or somethin’. Real nasty stuff, but it was what she
used, only thing we could get our claws on.
“So now, he shoves me into this maze filled basement that he
got. And I sniff that perfume. And I can’t tell you how happy I was. Me mam had
come back to save me! Boy was I wrong. Took me hours it did, imagine me, a
bright-eyed little girl sure that her mum had come back to save her. I went
through this massive maze. And now I finally follow the scent and get to her,
and there she standing. Her back to me, wearin’ that same flea-bitten sweater
she used ta give me when it got too cold. And I ran over to her and I turned
her around, and there was … my mum … Or at least. It was her. Must’ve been long
gone by then…”
A tear crawled out of her eye as her voice dwindled to a
stop, cigar burnt down to half as she let it fall from her hands. The suited
man gingerly took his hand over to her back and patted her awkwardly, perhaps
unsure of what to say before being saved by a car pulling on the sidewalk in
front of him. Helping the woman up, he ushered her into the back seat before
sitting parallel to the driver. Telling the driver of their destination, he
pulled the glove compartment and took out a box of cigars, pulling two more out
to refill his now empty pocket while his new-found temporary companion stared pensively
out of the window, lost in her thoughts. Closing the oak box, his eyes lingered
on the logo before he put it back where it belonged, smiling as he read it one
last time.
'Louixs'
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