I met her on a go-fast night at Will’s house. She was an old friend of Will’s. She slouched on the couch. I put myself on the floor in front of her after we were introduced. Her eyes were eclipsed green suns behind dangerous black hole pupils. She didn’t talk to me.
She wore a red Lycra bodysuit — like Cat Woman gone druggie stripper. Her mask was not making eye-contact and talking about the past with the two people in the room who’d known her. I ate her with my eyes.
Every compulsive wave of chemical energy made her body roll in a long, slow shimmy. She spasmed as the drug strummed her nervous system, rising slowly off the couch toward me in tiny seizures. I was taken. Her body shook, straining against that second red skin. Every single line, crevice, and bump was electrically loud. I couldn’t stop grazing over her as she slowly convulsed — her legs parted and so hot beside me.
She was barefoot.
Corvette toenails dragged the carpet beside my hand. The tight, bright fabric clinging to her legs led between her thighs and over her shaking stomach to the abrupt rise of her breasts and ended at her bare neck, tensing with her clenching jaws and strawberry-insides tongue pushing between cherry lips.
Not long after I picked my spot on the floor, most of the party left the house and moved on to their own crazy rides under the wavy moon.
When she found out who I was, when Will let her know that his supply came from me, she finally met my gaze. From that moment I knew I’d be running more than my eyes across her body. Soon enough, she was closer to me.
We spent the next few days staying awake together, mostly at Will’s. But she and I ended up at my apartment. We did lines of coke so that we could sleep. She curled up beside me in bed. A few days later she showed up at my place. We went camping with my friends that weekend at some hot springs a few hours outside the city.
That began our summer of it.
Naked under the wild, full sky. Stretched out in steamy pools. We talked a thousand miles an hour. We shared bottles of Mezcal. I spent days and nights memorizing her constantly delightful body. We stayed in. We went out. Sometimes in the dark morning, seeing the dawn reflected in our favorite hot pool was what we needed to end that night, and we’d race the sun to the mountains. We spent time together.
On meth, your days are long moments filled with millions of shattered pieces of time. You pay attention to too much. You live for going fast. You strive to catch up with your brain as it burns itself out like a fast-forward fuse. Life is too long but it’s high speed.
We shot my gun to break the night. We whooped. Danced. Ran.
Months were ours.
My day began when she arrived, no matter what the time.
And I told her in a note that I loved her.
She was supposed to come and pick me up for a weekend all to ourselves. I sat outside waiting for way too long. She didn’t answer when I called her.
Will told me the next day that he’d talked to her. That I’d freaked her out by telling her how I felt. He said she wasn’t going to talk to me about it. She said it was too soon. That we went too fast. Too fast.
I didn’t see her for a few months.
Three feet of snow covered the ground when she showed up at a party at a friend’s farm. I was wrapped in a tight-knit sweater of girls — it being the season of giving. I shucked them when she looked at me with that secret smile.
I met her outside.
“It’s been a long time,” she said. She was thin, like crumpled paper against dirty snow.
I nodded with a frown.
I followed her into a metal shed beside the barn, to talk about it.
She wanted me to shoot her up — had her own kit.
She hoisted herself up on a workbench, shoving greasy tools and bits of sandpaper aside. I put myself on a low stool in front of her, once she was settled. Her eyes were eclipsed moons behind zombie inkblot pupils.
She wore white yoga pants and a tight white jacket. Like a snow bunny call girl. Soon the jacket was draped over a toolbox on the bench. Beneath it she wore only a white bra. Her ribs showed. She met my eyes.
I cooked up some crystal and fixed her. Good.
She kissed me as I pulled the needle out. She said, “I love you.”
Then she gasped.
The rushing wave of my heavy mix made her body roll in a long, slow shimmy. She spasmed as the drug stunned her nervous system, rising slowly off the bench toward me in tiny seizures. She was taken. Her body shook, wracked with weird, frightened sobs. Every single shout and sputter was echoingly loud. I couldn’t help standing over her as she slowly convulsed — arms and legs twitching and flailing around me.
She wore boots.
Her feet kicked the air beside my head. The tight, bright fabric clinging to her legs led between her thighs and ended at her knotted stomach. An abrupt rise of bile spilled onto her lacy breasts. She went rigid — clenching her jaws and trapping her tomato-bloated tongue between foamy lips.
Her eyes rolled white and she began choking.
Not long after, I slid out the shed door — back to the party in the house — and left her cold and blue under the winter moon.
I wasn’t going to talk to her about it. It was too soon.
She went too fast.
Too fast.
Kevin Shamel writes weird stories and he does it on purpose. You can find his first book, Rotten Little Animals, at Amazon. People seem to like it. There’s a bit of his flash at Every Day Fiction. Other magazines have printed his stories. More and more of his weirdness is showing up. Check out his website to find out where. And please accept his third-person thanks for reading!
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29 Responses to “WHAT NAME DO I GIVE HER? • by Kevin Shamel”
Comments
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March 23rd, 2010 at 12:44 am
Too much description, too much tell, too many adjectives.
I found it difficult to relate to – let alone feel sympathy for – eithter character.
March 23rd, 2010 at 1:06 am
I thought this was impressive in places, but overall it felt a little diluted. A case of style over substance, perhaps? I know the subject matter implies (or even requires) a degree of emotional detachment for the characters, but for me it went too far.
March 23rd, 2010 at 2:54 am
I liked this story, pretty powerful writing.
March 23rd, 2010 at 3:17 am
This is a beautiful piece of prose poetry.
March 23rd, 2010 at 3:54 am
I thought this was striking and memorable. It is weird and unusual to hear a character claim, “I cooked up some crystal and fixed her. Good.” Typically this would be couched with all sort of worthy sentiments about how dangerous drugs are, but of course some people think they’re a good idea; otherwise no-one would take them.
And I like the very sensed, kinaesthetic world; as seen through the altered mind-set. But you have to ask if this is written with much perspective. We get repetitions of “her eyes were eclipsed..,” etc in paras 1 and 24. And the fabric of her clothing is traced from thighs up in paras 4 and 30.
Makes me wonder if this is a clever representation of an altered mind-set, or a lycra fetish with short-term memory loss.
March 23rd, 2010 at 5:03 am
This piece is strangely compelling. Lovely, descriptive prose.
March 23rd, 2010 at 6:52 am
This story does what all good stories do–take you to a place you wouldn’t want to go in real life. It’s a glimpse into a different lifestyle … and educates us in the seductive power of drugs. Stories are supposed to open us up and reveal the different aspects of life. This does precisely that.
As for the language and style. Totally in tune with the subject matter. Modern. Exciting. And manages to give us a bit of an experience I never want to have.
An unequivocal “5″ for me. Congrats!
March 23rd, 2010 at 7:17 am
Impressive work – the style matches the madness of the action, and the story is brutal and riveting. Well done, Kevin!
March 23rd, 2010 at 7:39 am
I *loved* this story! I thought the characters were really well done abd the writing was captivating. I would’ve perferred that she didn’t die, but that seems more like a personal perfrence than any actual critque on the writing so I won’t allow that to colour my review. Five stars for excellance!
March 23rd, 2010 at 8:18 am
Interesting piece, Kev. Not my cup of tea, but I gave it a five for style and for the stretching. You constantly amaze me.
March 23rd, 2010 at 8:54 am
This was effectively done. It pulled me in and I was there with you. I didn’t want to be that person, so given over to that lifestyle, but I definitely was. The repetition at the end echoed the beginning, and I thought it was well done. Brutal, strong, and well done.
March 23rd, 2010 at 8:59 am
Moments of excellence like “That began our summer of it” and “thin, like crumpled paper against dirty snow.” Only very rarely less than fluid.
March 23rd, 2010 at 9:17 am
Kind of purpley in the early going – my first thought was “great! Another MFA graduate!” (with apologies to MFA grads who don’t over-write).
March 23rd, 2010 at 9:28 am
Summer of 69 wishes.
How fantasticly touching in such a transgressive way.
March 23rd, 2010 at 10:15 am
Interesting story. I would have liked to hear more conversation between them. Bet it would have been good, too. Nextime I get a pedicure I’m asking for Corvette toenails. Clever you.
March 23rd, 2010 at 12:47 pm
I am a fan of horror and I thought this story was executed perfectly with hypnotic style. The thought & skill you put into your work never ceases to amaze me. 5 stars.
March 23rd, 2010 at 4:37 pm
Whoa! All that in under 1,000 words. That was a wild ride. Highly condenced and surreal, the way people describe an acid trip. Excellent,
March 23rd, 2010 at 7:01 pm
Initially I worried this would be one of those stories that overromanticized drug use. What saved this in the end was that “She” was clearly ravaged by her addiction and the hot shot merely hastened the inevitable. The writing here was good particularly the tiptoeing between overt and innuendo.
–John
March 23rd, 2010 at 8:12 pm
This was so cool and different! I actually got a chill when I read it.
March 23rd, 2010 at 8:15 pm
Thank you, everyone, for reading. I had a great time with this story, and reading your responses to it. I’m glad you each got what you did from it. Have great days!
March 23rd, 2010 at 8:42 pm
Kevin,
Good job! I may not like the protag, but I KNOW him. Excellent characterization. His disconnect with the world came shining through.
March 24th, 2010 at 1:14 pm
I found this piece so troubling that I can’t say I enjoyed it, but the writing is wonderful.
March 25th, 2010 at 2:00 pm
Excellent story. I agree that it had a surreal drug-induced mood. Then ending is superb!
March 26th, 2010 at 4:34 am
Impressive. Only real crit was my incredulity at;
“We did lines of coke so that we could sleep.”
Sounds like a remarkably unlikely soporific! Sleepiness and calm are not characteristics of your archetypal cokehead methinks.
G
March 26th, 2010 at 9:27 am
Thanks, everyone.
Gaius, one would THINK that coke would be an unlikely sleep aid. I’ll tell you, however, it is just about the only thing you can do to get to sleep after you’ve been awake for a few days on crystal.
Here’s why: Crystal doesn’t have a crash. You can do it and do it, and never just get nailed with a big downer. Cocaine provides a crash. You WILL sleep after a coke binge, no matter what.
So the trick is to do a great deal of coke, wait for a few hours, and finally rest your wicked, wicked brain.
I know this.
March 26th, 2010 at 9:42 am
The things one must, however reluctantly, undergo for the sake of one’s art…
I sit corrected, also educated. More specifically, awed at the type of mind to discover that!
All good,
Gaius
March 27th, 2010 at 6:36 am
In places the writing seemed a little stiff. Too many adjectives will do that. The story was written with a detachment that kept this reader from caring about the characters or what happened to them. This is not to say that the writer does not have talent. It’s a talent that left this reader unmoved.
March 29th, 2010 at 12:14 pm
i liked it. parts of it i really liked were the word-play parts, i.e. “months were ours” and how you revisited the first part at the end “she was barefoot.” and “she wore boots.”
i like the whole feel of it. it made me think of a meth-head guy in a fedora. of all the crank-houses, in all the towns, in all the world, she hd to walk into mine…
April 6th, 2010 at 7:47 am
Superb. Good to read your story again, Kevin. Love the style of writing – really neat. 5 stars from me.