n-e-b-o-h- N.e.b.o.h. AKA Trystn Waller

Lance's life with his wife, Fe, is falling apart after some "legal trouble." His distress will lead him to discover the brown alien, some Sanskrit words, and a mystic gang lord named Luci who is hell-bent on ruining Lance's life. Craving stability, some life changes will force him to face his demons in various forms and battle his fear in the flesh. *Disclaimer: There are some adult scenes and occasional language among other content. Readers please use their discretion. *


Саспенс 18+.

#shortstory #sex #moon #weird #demons #relationships #drugs #devil #aliens #310 #offcenter #temptations #humor
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A total alien (brown alien)

Fe, man. I just can’t see what she wants right now.

It feels like we haven’t connected in so long. And with everything that’s going on … Forget about it. I mean, it’s like I inherited the whole ensemble, playing their brains out. Just a lost waste of souls as they go on, blowing, and feeling … blowing and feeling. It sounds like some kind of big, sexy chaos to me. Intuition tells me to leave it there. Well, for now. I used to know exactly what she wanted way before the notification would even buzz my phone. I once had this confidence; such strong and deliberate confidence! Where’d it all go so fast?

*

Oh, hey you guys. I'm just here reading some of Gabril's personal notes. There was this funny time where he was-- Well, it's better in his words. Sorry to just start like that without letting you know. But let's continue.

I'm like anyone else that's just aiming the gun high for peace and a steady life; well if I could have a piece of that, my mouth would be shining from this Friday to the next. Isn’t it crazy that the moment that all you want in life is for everything to go right is exactly the time that the witches start melting? And everything melts, and even the people, too -- meeelt -- into a sloppy image like counterclockwise graffiti.

In fact, as a fact, that would be a good-ass, random-ass title for my notes: Counterclockwise Graffiti.

*

Hmm. Maybe. But it would be totally elusive and really just plain irrelevant. I think my title makes more sense. It’s better I get on with the reading. As you can see, Gabril starts thinking up these deep ideas when he walks the streets alone. Maybe because no one's watching? Anyway, I'll try to keep quiet unless you need further explaining. Deal? Here we go. And, uh, sorry for his language.


Fe wants something from me. I can tell in the way her voice rushes on the phone, saying, Come massage my feet, babe, I had a rough day at home lying on my narrow ass, or something like that. I don't really pay attention. I know it’s her day off, but it’s not like she cares about my needs, so …

Anyway, I was leaving an actual interview, but I had no luck. No luck since all "this and that" went down.

*

Don’t worry, I’ll fill you in on what he means by "this and that" in a second. He actually tells it kind of weirdly. He writes:


I got no motivation from her. Fe. From ever since we got married I haven’t been able to contort myself into this “husband” I’m supposed to be. I just wanted her to suck me up all the time. Now it feels like I'm in the circus.

While I’m on my way home, I fall into a conversation with some woman about dough:


“Oh, you have a wife?”

That’s the first thing I explain to strange women I’ve never met before. She looks surprised, though her body’s as relaxed as a willow branch.

I tell her, “Yeah, she’s a little Empressian lady, but she prefers Calaja, you know people like their own demonyms and all. I mean, I'm Empressian too, but I never wanted to be called Calajo. She despises the fact we live in Kysh now. Real homey girl and she takes care of me. Does this 'weird stuff' with her hair and nails sometimes, for God knows why, but for me, I don’ know why the hell she does it. She does other weird shit too, mean, she’s real zen and makes me take my shoes off at the door. I have self-conscious feet, chick, like, I don’t need you to stare all at my piggies. But cheh, she’s cool. Cool! I married her, did’n I?”

“Yes! Ya did. She sounds like a world-class, umm, girl. What’s your name?”

I say, “Gabril.”

“My Gawd, what a gay name!”

This she blurts, then swings out one of her thick tree-trunk legs.

“Gay, eh? Would a gay person do this?”

I flick my wrist at her and poke out my hip.

“That’s precisely what they do all day,” she says.

She then trips over something on the pavement while keeping pace with me.

“I’m gay, so it doe'n’t matter what I say about the gays.”

“‘The gays.’ You make it sound like they’re a bunch of Martians. Still seems like a big issue these days for some reason: homosexuality. I ‘member when you could get lynched--”

“For what? Bein’ colored?”

“No, gay.”

“I was gonna say, you’re not that old.”

This direction in conversation leaves her somewhat tickled.

“You can still get lynched in the Wilderness.”

“Are you from the Wilderness?”

“Do I look Native to you? I ain’t that black.”

“Well then.”

The woman picks off a fruit or nut, or something, from the cords of an overhanging tree. She launches it across the street at the ears of a few kids.

“Why’d you tell me about your wife, anyway? That was, like, the first thing ya said. I didn’t ask.”

“Nervousness, I suppose. It must be all the crap I’m buried under these days. Sometimes I forget the year, too, as if it were something I could forget.”

“Well, that’s easy. It’s only the year of the fucking jackalope. You shouldn’t forget information like that, man!

I laugh a bit, but I start to question the amount of time I’m allotting to spend with this nut-case. In my head, though, because I don’t actually call her a nut-case. Are you kidding me?

Phone buzzing. Wifey’s calling again. Fe. What in purgatory does she want? My goodness, it’s not like Virgil’s there. So many layers and I can’t fathom why anybody would go through Dante’s purgatory, or hell, for that matter. Other than reading it. It would be fun to watch some people burn to death, even though it’s not really death, because, you know, it’s Inferno. Maybe Geryon could swoop in and take them off to other levels. Take it too far? My bad.

Okay. So then she says, “What’s the crap? Been dull in the bedroom lately?”

“Nah, well … Hasn’t been anything in the bedroom lately. {she hisses from her teeth as if to say Ouch!} Normally, I work at a high school as an administrator and teacher, but some stuff ... went down."

“Ohh!" She falls back like she's been smacked with an epiphany. "You’re the Gabril they talked about at the meetin'."

I shrug since I've never been to a meeting. That meeting, I mean.

"Well, you're really in the shit, eh? Hell, I work on the school board here in north Bridge, but I’m workin’ to be the board president."

I say, "Really?"

The sight of her launching fruit at some kids' heads still sits fresh in my mind.

"Yeh. Board president there now’s a guy, and he thinks I can’t do it. Men for ya.”

She spits some dark slob on the ground from a cigarette she must’ve just smoked. Also on the generalized idea of men, I suppose.

I tell her, “You could be a board president, you know. Don’t let them get you down just cus you’re a woman. The ones in power are always the hard-asses. You’ll be one too, soon enough.”

She smirks doubtfully at this.

“Who knows. So, tell me what happened."

"So, basically, I was talkin’ to this girl student after class -- real nice, pretty girl. Lots of hair. Beside the point, for some reason I can’t wrap my head around, I touched her on her shoulder or neck, like, to console her or something, but right then another teacher came in and saw this one little part. Of course, us being in Bridge, she overreacted and accused me of sexual assault on a minor, and you can imagine the rest. The bastards know I'm from a liberal borough and they think we're all sexual vampires or something. Now I can’t find work, all the load is on Fe, we live in a shack, practically, and she’s not givin’ me none. Beyond that, my life is peachy."

The woman supports my strife with a Damn.

"I wanted to talk to someone, anyone other than my wife today cus I’as going to kill myself tonight. Literally. It’s not cus I’m unhappy with her. I just hate life. I hate it so bad, like, sometimes I want to ride a spaceship to the edge of the universe, don’t care how long it takes. Jus’ ride until I die or reach the end of it, one of the two. But she can’t …”

I want to say more but I cut off. I’m offset by the sight of the low moon. Why is it so red like that, and why is the sky purple? I’m suddenly aware of all this stuff happening so far off the surface of the planet. I feel Earth spinning. Dude.

"I dunno about your old lady, man. I think she’s a dike, like me. Or no! She could be an alien. A total alien.”

7 февраля 2020 г. 8:33:43 5 Отчет Добавить Подписаться
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oliver davis oliver davis
You can publish this in a mobile app so a lot of readers can see your lovely work. Check on No v e l S t a r and see how other writers earn by pursuing their passion in writing.
Albert Al Albert Al
The writer is so talented. I suggest you join NôvelStar writing competition this April.
Arthur Ruthra Arthur Ruthra
For such a great story, a lot of audience must read your book. You can publish your work on NôvelStar Mobile App.
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