II
She opened her eyes. Outside the sun was shining and the birds were
chirping. There was a leafy smell of spring in the air. The morning light made
the little particles of dust that floated above her head glimmer and sparkle.
She watched as they danced with each other.
She got up and
walked into the toilet. Her legs felt as light as balsa wood. She looked
herself in the mirror. Her complexion was glowing and her eyes were gleaming.
She brushed her teeth carefully and then she opened the cupboard underneath the
sink and took out a black little make-up bag. In it, she had hidden a package
of cigarettes. She took the package out, opened it and smelled the cigarettes. They
smelled like raisins.
She didn’t put any
make-up on.
In the kitchen, she
turned the radio on and made herself a cup of coffee. While it was brewing she
waltzed around the table. She was here and there were so many things that she
had to do. No. There were so many things she could do.
When the coffee was
done she poured it into her favourite cup and brought it with her outside. She
sat down on the doorstep and lit a cigarette. In the gentle morning sunlight she
smoked while sipping her coffee. She felt young again. Thinking about what was
to come, her stomach filled with butterflies.
She took her
husband’s car keys and left the house and everybody in it behind her. In the
black sports car, she could drive wherever she wanted. She could do whatever
she wanted. And most importantly: she could see whomever she wanted. Right now
she just wanted to drive. She drove and drove and drove, and her mind was
completely silent and blank.
She pulled over,
stopped the car and lit a cigarette. On her finger was her wedding ring. She
smiled as she looked at it. She made a smoke ring and watched as it vanished in
front of her. Then she took the ring off and threw it out of the window. She
smiled. It was time to call him.
She dialled his
number. One signal. Two signals. Three signals.
“I’ve been waiting
for your call for quite a while now. What took you so long, peaches?”
The emancipated
woman laughed. “I was preoccupied, lover. Stupidity got the best of me. Sorry.
But I’m clean now.”
“Perfect. When
should I expect you?”
“Today. At noon.”
“See you then,
peaches.”
“See you then,
lover.”
She stepped out of
the car and folded the roof back. Then she put her sunglasses on and lit
cigarette. Victory was near.
With the wind in her hair, she drove to the town were he lived. The
radio was playing old familiar songs and she was humming along. And an hour was
gone.
Her first stop was
the Chanel store. She parked right in front of the store without bothering to
look for a parking space. Let the minions fine me.
Inside the store, everything
was neatly arranged. She knew exactly what she wanted. She walked up to the counter
and cleared he throat.
“Excuse me,” she
said in a nice, but firm tone of voice.
“How may I help
you?” the shop lady replied. She was a little plump woman with round
spectacles. She looked like a fat version of Harry Potter, but with a
razor-sharp bob-cut instead of the scar.
“I want to purchase
a black dress. Something simple and classic. Something immortal.”
“Fabulous madam.
You have come to the right place. Is it for a special occasion?”
“Oh yes, it’s for a
very special occasion.”
“Say no more, say
no more. I’ve got the perfect dress for you,” the lady said. “Let’s see now.
Yes. Here we are. Isn’t this just gorgeous?”
It was a sleeveless
long evening dress.
“It comes with
gloves, of course.”
“Perfect. May I try
it on?”
“Certainly. This
way madam.”
The dress was perfect,
like an elusive thought captured in the right words.
“It’s perfect. And
red and black has always been my two favourite colours.”
“So madam wants
something red to go with the dress?”
“That won’t be
necessary, thank you.”
She left the store.
She walked into a hair salon and said that she needed to cut and die
her hair immediately.
“It’s an emergency.
I’m seeing somebody very important and I simply cannot look like this.”
“I understand,
miss,” said the young man. He was quite obviously gay. “We have one stylist who
can see you right away. This way please, miss.”
“Perfect.”
The stylist arrived
and she told him exactly how to cut and dye her hair. He followed her orders
and the result was stunning.
“Cheers darling,”
she said when he was finished. “It’s perfect. Exactly how I wanted it.” At the
counter, she gave him what she owed and more.
Then she left.
The drive to his place wasn’t long. She parked her car. She lit a
cigarette. She smoked it, and then she entered his building and climbed the
stairs. She knocked on his door.
“Hello peaches,” he
said as he opened. “Long time no see.”
“Hello lover,” she
replied.
They looked at each
other and smiled. He wasn’t wearing any pants, just a pair of boxers underneath
a Star Wars t-shirt. He had shoulder-long blonde-brown dishevelled hair. He had
hairy legs. He was extremely sexy.
She entered the hallway
and tossed her coat on the floor.
“I like the look,
Blondie. Very you.”
She threw her arms
around him and kissed him. He tasted sweet, like strawberries. She pressed
herself against him and they kissed their way into his living room and fell onto
his bed. She tore his t-shirt off. She could see every outline of every muscle
on his body. They both started to breath heavily. He became sweaty. She licked
her way down his chest and his stomach. His sweat tasted like sea salt. She
took his boxers off and put his dick in her mouth. She sucked it slowly. Then
she kissed her way back up to his lips. And he ripped her dress off. She
grabbed his dick and put it inside her. She rode him like she used to ride him.
Then she threw herself down beside him and put him on top of her. He kissed her
neck, her chest and her nipples. He licked her stomach. Then he went down on
her until she came. Twice.
When they were
done, he put two cigarettes in his mouth and lit them both. He gave her one and
they smoked together in bed, both of them gazing at the ceiling.
“You’re amazing,
peaches.”
“You’re not too bad
either, lover.”
“What did you do
with your TV?”
“I threw it out the
balcony one day. I kept getting the feeling that it was watching me… Because I
never watched it, you know?”
“I know.”
They stayed in bed for a while. Then he got up and disappeared into
the kitchen. Soon, the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the apartment.
Still naked, he entered the living room.
“Care for some
midday breakfast, peaches?” he said. “Or do you want more sausage?”
She laughed.
He went back into
the kitchen, but returned almost immediately, holding a tray.
“Breakfast on the
balcony like always?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t have it
any other way,” she replied.
Naked, they ate
breakfast together on the balcony. He had made coffee black as night and orange
juice bright as sunlight. In his present, everything was right. Being together
with him was like wearing Kevlar.
When they had
finished eating they kissed.
“Let’s smoke and
then get down to business. I’ve got everything you need, peaches.”
“Perfect.”
Inside, she sat
down on his sofa while he went into the other room. He came back and in his
hand he had a gun. It was an old-fashioned silver-coloured 45 calibre revolver.
Before giving it to her, he raised it up into the air and inspected it
carefully.
“Take good care of
her, peaches,” he said and threw the gun at her. She caught it with one hand.
“But of course,
lover. I’ll treat her like a queen.”
He pulled out a
small, semi-transparent, ampule from his pocket. It contained some kind of
liquid.
“Thought you might
need this as well,” he said.
“You’re too kind.
And you know me too well. It’s good we never got married. A girl needs to have
her secrets, you know.”
“Be careful with
that though. A couple of drops will do the trick.”
And then it was time
to depart. She had a mission to complete.
“See you soon,
peaches,” he said and kissed her goodbye.
“Sooner than you
know, lover,” she said with a laugh.
On her way she
stopped at a supermarket to buy some groceries. It was Thursday and the emancipated
woman was making pea soup.
She opened the door, stepped inside and took her shoes off without
untying the laces. Suddenly the pig appeared in the hallway.
“Where have you
been?” he grunted.
“I’ve been out,”
she replied.
“Out? Out where?
They called from work and asked if you were sick.”
“And what did you
tell them?”
“That I didn’t know
where you were.”
“Perfect. It’s
Thursday and I’m making pea soup.”
“OK,” the male
chauvinist pig said sounding quite surprised.
Humming old familiar songs she made her ungrateful family pea soup.
While the soup was boiling, she set the table. In front of every seat she put a
soup plate, a spoon, a knife and a glass. A faint smell of almonds arose from
the pot and spread in the tiny kitchen. She smiled. And when the soup was done,
she called her family. A call to arms. The picture was complete: the fat lazy
pig, the two ungrateful little fucks, and the fucking decaying house. All
anybody could ever want.
She lit the candles
on the table and urged her family to eat.
“It’s pea soup.
Maybe it’s not everybody’s favourite dish, but this soup is something else.”
Silenced settled
over the perfectly set dinner table. Nobody said a word until the older
ungrateful fuck said she was tired. Soon, the younger ungrateful fuck said she
was tired too. And so did the lazy pig. The three of them looked like they
hadn’t slept in years. And right after dinner they all went to bed. And the
house went silent.
The emancipated woman made herself some coffee and had it with a
cigarette on the sofa. The door to her birdcage stood ajar.
*
She opened her eyes. Sunlight came through the window. The whole
livingroom smelled like spring. Outside, the ground was covered in a lavender
mist.
She waltzed into
the bathroom and looked herself in the mirror. She was stunning.
She made herself a
cup of coffee and had it and a cigarette for breakfast. Humming on a song she
had once heard when she was young, she smoked underneath the kitchen fan. An
endless stream of smoke rings left her lips and vanished. There was not a single
sound in the whole house. A peaceful silence had settled.
She put her dress
and her gloves on, and then she carefully placed her package of cigarettes in
her bra. She noticed a big rip on one of the sides of the dress. Fabulous. But
her neck looked naked, so she put her pearls on. Then she ran her fingers through
her hair and sprayed it with hairspray. Finally she applied a thick layer of
bright-red lipstick. She was to die for.
She put the gun in
her small black purse. Then she closed
the front door and left that part of her life behind her.
When she arrived at work she turned the sign at the door from Open
to Closed. Then she walked straight into the staff room and kicked the door in.
She aimed the gun at the girls.
“What have we here?
A magpie meeting?”
One of them shrieked,
the others were paralysed.
“What are you
doing? Is that a real gun?”
“But of course,
sweetie. Put this record on, will you? It’s Strauss.”
The magpie did as
she was told and the store filled with Strauss’ On The Beautiful Blue
Danube.
“Now…Get out of
here. All of you! Out!”
One after the
other, the magpies hopped out of the room, their heads facing the floor.
BANG!
The emancipated
woman laughed. “Just testing, darlings. Hop along, hop along.”
The emancipated
woman marched through the store and climbed on top of the counter.
“EVERYBODY ON THE
FLOOR! THIS IS NOT A ROBBERY!” she yelled.
And all the
customers in the store fell to the floor.
“Magpies! Yes, I
mean you,” the emancipated woman said and pointed towards the working girls.
“Over here. I want this wall cleared. Knock the shelves over. I don’t care how
you do it, but I want this wall cleared. Understood?”
The magpies looked
terrified. They were crying and shivering. But they weren’t moving.
The emancipated
woman raised her gun and put it against the forehead of one of them.
“Didn’t you hear
me?” she asked and looked the girl straight into the eyes.
The girl sobbed,
but didn’t answer.
BANG! The bullet
pierced her magpie brain. And the emancipated woman laughed. “Fucking answer
when spoken to, ok? How hard can it possibly be? Magpies! I want that wall
cleared. NOW! You, extras! I’ll deal with you later. For now, just stand by the
counter. And don’t cry. If I catch you crying I’ll blow your brains out.
Understood?”
The magpies hopped
over to the shelves and started tilting them over. When they were done they
awaited her next order.
“Right,” said the
emancipated woman and took out her red Marlboros from her bra. Carefully, she
choose a cigarette and lit it.
“Thank you. Now if
you would all line up against the wall. We’re painting, you see.”
But she was
interrupted. And she wasn’t happy about it.
“But… Why are you
doing this? Why? What have we ever done to you?” one of the petrified little
magpies cried out.
The emancipated
woman sighed. “Did I ask you to talk?” she asked. “I certainly don’t recall
asking you to open that filthy gape of yours. Very well. I’ll let you in on a
little secret. This is not about what you have done. It’s more about what you haven’t done. I’ve been trying to teach you airheads how to do your job for
years now, but there’s no point. What goes in one stupid ear comes out the
other. It’s like talking to blind people in sign language. So the other day I
decided,” and here she paused for a while to really taste her words. “I decided that you were all such waste of
space and that you therefore must die. It’s as simple as that. Life if
pointless, but you magpies poison this already pointless existence… Now line
up. Get on with it!”
The magpies were
absolutely horrified. Was she serious? Was she going to kill them all?
“I said… LINE THE
FUCK UP, IDIOTS!”
The black and white
little birds hopped into position.
“With your necks
touching the wall, please. Hmm, let’s see now. You, tall one, switch places
with that one. Yes. Perfect.”
She pulled out her
cigarettes from her bra and lit a new cigarette with the butt of the old one.
“Yes, a little bit
more to the left. Perfect.”
She raised her gun.
“Any last thoughts? Better think fast!”
BANG! The dead body
fell to the floor.
She pointed the gun
towards the next girl. “I always hated you most,” she said.
BANG! The dead body
fell to the floor.
Then emancipated
woman looked at her dress. It was covered in dots of blood.
The next girl in
line was crying heavily. “Don’t cry, my dear. What do you think of my little
painting so far?”
But the magpie was
shivering. She couldn’t speak. She was paralysed.
“As useful as
always, I see. Don’t worry. You finally get to…” – BANG.
“Oops. Didn’t mean
to shoot you just yet,” the emancipated woman said with a laugh.
And the fourth
magpie was the last magpie to die. Quickly, the emancipated woman reloaded her
revolver.
Then she took a
couple of steps back and looked at her painting. “Still a bit too… I don’t know.”
she said. “I’m not quite there yet.”
“EXTRAS! It’s
time!”
Life for the sake
of art. Art for the sake of art. Death for the sake of art.
“Who’s the
shortest? Ah, it must be you. Old woman, can you stand over there, please?”
The old woman was
crying.
“Yes, I know, it’s
tragic, isn’t it? Rather Shakespearian.”
The old woman just
continued crying.
“Oh come on!
Where’s your sense of humour? You’re already old, for fuck’s sake. And it’s
only death, you know. Nothing comparable to the infinite pain of living in
world where people support a system that systematically corrupts and consumes
the people that supports it.”
When the old woman
was in place, the emancipated woman shot her right in the forehead. Blood and bits
and pieces of her brain splattered against the concrete canvas. Slowly, in
pillar-patterns, the gore ran towards the floor.
“Yes. Excellent.
Let me see now…” she said and took a deep drag on her cigarette. “You, tall guy,
over there please,” she continued and pointed towards a spot on the wall.
Knowing that there
was nothing he could do and that all resistance was pointless, he followed her
order and lined up against the wall. An unconditional surrender.
“One, two, three,
four…” BANG! “… tell me that you love me more…”
The emancipated
woman laughed. “This is fun!”
She told the
teenage girl to line up against the wall.
“Please, I’ll do
anything. Don’t shoot me. Please!”
“Line up, darling.
I haven’t got all day, you know!”
“I won’t! Don’t
shoot me. Please!”
BANG.
Another dead body
fell to the floor.
Now the only one
who remained alive was a little girl. She had black hair and wore a yellow
dress. She was crying and her eyes were red.
“Please don’t kill
me,” she pleaded.
“I’m sorry sugar,
but I can’t stop now. The painting isn’t finished, you see. There are still
white spots on the wall. White spots of oblivion on the common canvas. Still so
much work to be done. You’re only a child, I know, still innocent and sweet,
but one day you’ll grow up and you’ll get corrupted too. Devoured. Consumed by
it. Dying isn’t that bad, trust me. Not in comparison…”
“How do you know?”
the little girl asked. Her big black eyes suddenly seemed even bigger.
“Well, technically,
I don’t. I haven’t had the pleasure of dying myself yet, you see.”
“No. How do you
know that I’ll get consumed by it?”
“Everybody gets
consumed by it.”
“I’m not like
everybody else. I understand you. I understand why you killed the old woman and
the tall guy. And I understand why killed the girls too. I understand why you
killed the… magpies.”
“Magpies…? How do
you…?” The emancipated woman stopped mid sentence. Her heart started racing.
Her chest felt heavy. She couldn’t breath. A black curtain came rushing up from
the floor.
“Enough! Stop
talking! I’ve got a painting to finish!”
“Please. Don’t kill
me. I understand you and if you let me live I promise to carry on living.
Actually living. Not living like a living dead like the others.”
“Shut up! Line up
against the wall!”
The emancipated
woman put her gun against the girl’s forehead.
“I’ve got to do
this. I’m sorry. I really am.”
“Don’t shoot me,
please. I can help you paint the world. I’m not a living dead…”
Pull the trigger.
Let her go. Kill her…
The emancipated woman looked at her painting. Not quite there yet,
but close enough. Practice makes perfect.
