Callie (a short story)
March 29th 2007 05:14
Callie, was a little worried.
What had begun as a means to an end was now an obsession, a compulsion, a....hobby?
Well, she thought, it certainly takes up enough time!
It was late afternoon. Callie was wandering slowly up the cracked grey sidewalk, enjoying the old townhouses and apartments as she meandered by. Theres a certain charm in little sections of city, where the noise seems to drop off and theres nothing but the old houses talking to one another. She took her time. There was no hurry. True night was much better for her 'hobby' anyhow. The flat grey sky had taken the colour out of the world, trees barely managing their green and brown under its weight. It blended perfectly with the sidewalk, creating a colour compliment worthy of Picasso.
Funny I should remember Picasso now..... She thought in amazement, because he had been on their lips years ago, that first night she had engaged in her current....Activities. She had no desire to remember it really, she was where she was and the past wasnt worth looking at. Where she was was a beautiful and fairly modern apartment almost in the inner city, with a wardrobe full of gorgeous clothes and all needs paid for. Sure there were conditions - she had to be careful, given her....'hobby' but it wasnt hard - simply pick apartments where cash was accepted(and there were plenty) always make sure the ID was fake (not that she could remember her real name anyway) and move before people got suspicious. She was slowly stockpiling cash so she could go to one of those far off islands where no one gave a damn who you were - just if you paid your bill.
Despite her efforts her memory took her back, the walk was long and she was bored and those nights so long ago did have a very seductive quality......
"We need money" Stated Ben, who had a knack for stating the obvious. Greg yawned, uninterested. Katie looked pained, Jenna snorted, and Callie? Well, Callie just bit her lip. She was fairly new at this street kid stuff.
They had all been kicked out of home, or never had one, if their stories were to be believed. Currently they were behind a large dump bin, in an alley, central city, perhaps King's Cross? It really was ridiculous that no one knew - they'd been following food and drugs in erratic circles for weeks. They'd found a mattress behind the bin - hence settling there - and were seated in a rough circle while they smoked.
Ben was wired. He was a speed freak who had managed to score earlier - somehow - and thus, was worried about maintaining the high. Greg was just stoned - they all were, but Greg looked like he might take a nap on the abandoned mattress, dog pee notwithstanding. Katie was coming down from a cocktail of drugs and was really hungry - she'd refused to eat the cold chips they found in the dump bin - and Jenna was no doubt thinking about her prostitute job and how the hell she was going to get there when she didnt know where she was, let alone where it was.
Callie was severly depressed. She couldnt remember if she'd ever had a home, the others had found her at a shelter and kind of adopted her. There was a deep sense in her that this was not right, that it didnt have to be this way. Emotional pain was supposed to be just that - Emotional. Not fiery icy claws reaching into your chest and ripping it to shreds while it sucked the blood out of your heart. She didnt want to cry, the others hated it when she cried, as she was the youngest, the most in need of protection. Her tears usually sent them into a fenzy that got them exactly no further than theyd been before - except for stress factors, of course.
She pulled hard on the joint as it came around. It didnt do much for her. Must be terrible gear. Ben was trying to start up a conversation and Jenna was mumbling something about a certain bus - not that she looked motivated enough to catch it, even if it were near. Knowing city buses, it probably wasnt. Greg was asleep, head propped against the brick wall as if it were a feather pillow, and Katies stomach was rumbling.
Feeling tears coming on, Callie stood up. Ben's speed assisted senses snapped his gaze toward her - not quite connecting - and took her in. "where are you going?"
"Um...To find a public bathroom."
They erupted in laughter(except greg, blissfully sleeping after long years of practice on the streets) "You gettin private on us or what?" Chortled Jenna. It was true. They usually dropped their dacks in the streets.
" I think theres one through that park....I just want to wash Fernie's vomit off my jeans"
At this they all nodded sagely - Fernie had HIV. Best not to catch it, even if it did eventually end you up in a nice comfy hospital.
"I swear, he vomits up stuff that looks like Picasso" Grunted Ben.
Callie struck off in the direction of the park. The city was always like a carnival at night(particularly this time of night) the smell of old food, flashing neon lights everywhere and people rushing and laughing and avoiding looking at 'unmentionables' like Callie. Before long she was running, and bawling, and made it to the grass under the tree in the park where she cried - great tearing sobs, and because she was hungry and malnourished sobs became retches until she gagged out everything in her stomach and lay there shaking and pale and sick, tears trickling coldly down her cheeks, the soggyness of them in her throat only making her feel sicker.
She didnt know what to do. Eventually, she stopped shaking and decided to find the others - if they could be found. She started down a dark alley in what she hoped was the right direction.
A man was walking ahead of her. A man in a really nice(though rumpled)suit, talking loudly on a mobile phone that was lit up better than a christmas tree. He was talking loudly - "Yep, Yep, I'll be there soon, 5 minutes away man, five minutes. No, Im not taking a fucking taxi! Do you think they'd even pick me up to go this distance? In this city? Hahaha....Yeah, Im nearly there man..." His jacket and shirt were fairly open, long night partying then?
Off to her right she spied a long metal bar - perhaps off a bin - and picked it up. She justed wanted to be ready to defend herself if he saw her, he could be any kind of creep -
"Fuck!" He dropped his phone and stopped for it. And saw her. She froze like a rabbit.
"Hey there" He said pleasantly. She just gulped. "Jeez." he said, moving a bit closer, "You look terrible. Are you ok honey? got a home to go to?"
She shook her head, waiting for the bomb to drop. It always did.
"You look so much like my little sister - you poor thing. Here, you take this and have a hot meal tonight on ol Johnny ok?"
He pulled out his - leather - wallett and slipped a note out. It was a $5.
Callies eyes narrowed. She wasnt stupid. The suit had to be Armani. The phone was the latest greatest all devices included package. The wallett was utterly stuffed with green and yellow notes - he could barely close it as he tried to hand over the $5. A Northern Beaches fuckwit who'd grown up in luxury and thought everyone had it just as great as he did - anyone in the world who was unfortunate or starving was just not worth thinking about. Or, they were, but only at charity benefits.
She was utterly sure of what she was going to do but at the same time it wasnt clear to her. The usual unreality of the world had increased tenfold - she seemed to be in space, hanging in the vacuum, the world receeding at a great pace but at the same time it was more hyper real than it had ever been - the stink of the alley, the darkness of the shadows, the threads in his fine, fine suit.
She screamed as something snapped deep within her. It would be fair to say she was not connected with her mind in that instant. She barely registered the shock of his eyes opening wide at her scream, eyes that remained fixed on her face and it was a good thing because -
Her arm, seemingly on its own, was coming up with force. Rage, rage built from being invisible, from being stomped on. From having no one care.
She slammed the bar into his head. The point got him in the temple and he went down, but she didnt stop there. She leapt over him, feet either side of his prone body while she beat him and beat him with all the strength in her small body, screaming all the while - "YOU PRICK, YOU PRICK, You Son of a bitch! How dare you! How dare you offer me five fucking bucks! As if that would buy me dinner anyway you fucking lowlife prick!"
She beat him until her strength was gone. Turns out he had a few grand on him. Lucky her. It changed her life......
Callie began a whistle as she walked down the street. Nearly in main city now. Her boots clicked as she stepped out, her pants were from a nice boutique, fitted and of a lovely, sensual fabric. She wore a silky blouse, showing off her small, jiggling breasts with the help of a push up bra. All black of course - all the better to blend in with the darkness. Her makeup was all Estee Lauder, her favourite, and her blonde hair was cut and conditioned and flowing over her shoulders in flowing waves.
It had been a pity leaving the gang. She'd seen them since - when passing an alley with a 'date' but they hadn't recognized her.
She swept into a bar, just starting to pick up for Friday night. Her eyes swept the room.
You know, it was funny how her kills never made much in the papers. A piece here or there, but for the most part, they just blended in with the rest of the street crime.
Got to be some benefit to not favouring a particular weapon and killing style, she thought, grinning.
Her eyes settled on her target. She could always tell the Northern Beaches bred boys. Alone, a little older, (she liked older ones - they couldnt react so fast) a little fatter. Looking troubled and bored. Perfect.
She crossed the room with the confidence of a business woman.
"Hi!" she said brightly as she slid seductively into the stool next to him, "Im Katie. Whats your name? You look as lonely as I feel!"
Like always, the red stained alcoholic eyes focused on her as if she were an angel.
He might just have a couple of grand on him. She thought. Wonder if I could rake out his credit cards? It could pay my bills for 6 months...........
What had begun as a means to an end was now an obsession, a compulsion, a....hobby?
Well, she thought, it certainly takes up enough time!
It was late afternoon. Callie was wandering slowly up the cracked grey sidewalk, enjoying the old townhouses and apartments as she meandered by. Theres a certain charm in little sections of city, where the noise seems to drop off and theres nothing but the old houses talking to one another. She took her time. There was no hurry. True night was much better for her 'hobby' anyhow. The flat grey sky had taken the colour out of the world, trees barely managing their green and brown under its weight. It blended perfectly with the sidewalk, creating a colour compliment worthy of Picasso.
Funny I should remember Picasso now..... She thought in amazement, because he had been on their lips years ago, that first night she had engaged in her current....Activities. She had no desire to remember it really, she was where she was and the past wasnt worth looking at. Where she was was a beautiful and fairly modern apartment almost in the inner city, with a wardrobe full of gorgeous clothes and all needs paid for. Sure there were conditions - she had to be careful, given her....'hobby' but it wasnt hard - simply pick apartments where cash was accepted(and there were plenty) always make sure the ID was fake (not that she could remember her real name anyway) and move before people got suspicious. She was slowly stockpiling cash so she could go to one of those far off islands where no one gave a damn who you were - just if you paid your bill.
Despite her efforts her memory took her back, the walk was long and she was bored and those nights so long ago did have a very seductive quality......
"We need money" Stated Ben, who had a knack for stating the obvious. Greg yawned, uninterested. Katie looked pained, Jenna snorted, and Callie? Well, Callie just bit her lip. She was fairly new at this street kid stuff.
They had all been kicked out of home, or never had one, if their stories were to be believed. Currently they were behind a large dump bin, in an alley, central city, perhaps King's Cross? It really was ridiculous that no one knew - they'd been following food and drugs in erratic circles for weeks. They'd found a mattress behind the bin - hence settling there - and were seated in a rough circle while they smoked.
Ben was wired. He was a speed freak who had managed to score earlier - somehow - and thus, was worried about maintaining the high. Greg was just stoned - they all were, but Greg looked like he might take a nap on the abandoned mattress, dog pee notwithstanding. Katie was coming down from a cocktail of drugs and was really hungry - she'd refused to eat the cold chips they found in the dump bin - and Jenna was no doubt thinking about her prostitute job and how the hell she was going to get there when she didnt know where she was, let alone where it was.
Callie was severly depressed. She couldnt remember if she'd ever had a home, the others had found her at a shelter and kind of adopted her. There was a deep sense in her that this was not right, that it didnt have to be this way. Emotional pain was supposed to be just that - Emotional. Not fiery icy claws reaching into your chest and ripping it to shreds while it sucked the blood out of your heart. She didnt want to cry, the others hated it when she cried, as she was the youngest, the most in need of protection. Her tears usually sent them into a fenzy that got them exactly no further than theyd been before - except for stress factors, of course.
She pulled hard on the joint as it came around. It didnt do much for her. Must be terrible gear. Ben was trying to start up a conversation and Jenna was mumbling something about a certain bus - not that she looked motivated enough to catch it, even if it were near. Knowing city buses, it probably wasnt. Greg was asleep, head propped against the brick wall as if it were a feather pillow, and Katies stomach was rumbling.
Feeling tears coming on, Callie stood up. Ben's speed assisted senses snapped his gaze toward her - not quite connecting - and took her in. "where are you going?"
"Um...To find a public bathroom."
They erupted in laughter(except greg, blissfully sleeping after long years of practice on the streets) "You gettin private on us or what?" Chortled Jenna. It was true. They usually dropped their dacks in the streets.
" I think theres one through that park....I just want to wash Fernie's vomit off my jeans"
At this they all nodded sagely - Fernie had HIV. Best not to catch it, even if it did eventually end you up in a nice comfy hospital.
"I swear, he vomits up stuff that looks like Picasso" Grunted Ben.
Callie struck off in the direction of the park. The city was always like a carnival at night(particularly this time of night) the smell of old food, flashing neon lights everywhere and people rushing and laughing and avoiding looking at 'unmentionables' like Callie. Before long she was running, and bawling, and made it to the grass under the tree in the park where she cried - great tearing sobs, and because she was hungry and malnourished sobs became retches until she gagged out everything in her stomach and lay there shaking and pale and sick, tears trickling coldly down her cheeks, the soggyness of them in her throat only making her feel sicker.
She didnt know what to do. Eventually, she stopped shaking and decided to find the others - if they could be found. She started down a dark alley in what she hoped was the right direction.
A man was walking ahead of her. A man in a really nice(though rumpled)suit, talking loudly on a mobile phone that was lit up better than a christmas tree. He was talking loudly - "Yep, Yep, I'll be there soon, 5 minutes away man, five minutes. No, Im not taking a fucking taxi! Do you think they'd even pick me up to go this distance? In this city? Hahaha....Yeah, Im nearly there man..." His jacket and shirt were fairly open, long night partying then?
Off to her right she spied a long metal bar - perhaps off a bin - and picked it up. She justed wanted to be ready to defend herself if he saw her, he could be any kind of creep -
"Fuck!" He dropped his phone and stopped for it. And saw her. She froze like a rabbit.
"Hey there" He said pleasantly. She just gulped. "Jeez." he said, moving a bit closer, "You look terrible. Are you ok honey? got a home to go to?"
She shook her head, waiting for the bomb to drop. It always did.
"You look so much like my little sister - you poor thing. Here, you take this and have a hot meal tonight on ol Johnny ok?"
He pulled out his - leather - wallett and slipped a note out. It was a $5.
Callies eyes narrowed. She wasnt stupid. The suit had to be Armani. The phone was the latest greatest all devices included package. The wallett was utterly stuffed with green and yellow notes - he could barely close it as he tried to hand over the $5. A Northern Beaches fuckwit who'd grown up in luxury and thought everyone had it just as great as he did - anyone in the world who was unfortunate or starving was just not worth thinking about. Or, they were, but only at charity benefits.
She was utterly sure of what she was going to do but at the same time it wasnt clear to her. The usual unreality of the world had increased tenfold - she seemed to be in space, hanging in the vacuum, the world receeding at a great pace but at the same time it was more hyper real than it had ever been - the stink of the alley, the darkness of the shadows, the threads in his fine, fine suit.
She screamed as something snapped deep within her. It would be fair to say she was not connected with her mind in that instant. She barely registered the shock of his eyes opening wide at her scream, eyes that remained fixed on her face and it was a good thing because -
Her arm, seemingly on its own, was coming up with force. Rage, rage built from being invisible, from being stomped on. From having no one care.
She slammed the bar into his head. The point got him in the temple and he went down, but she didnt stop there. She leapt over him, feet either side of his prone body while she beat him and beat him with all the strength in her small body, screaming all the while - "YOU PRICK, YOU PRICK, You Son of a bitch! How dare you! How dare you offer me five fucking bucks! As if that would buy me dinner anyway you fucking lowlife prick!"
She beat him until her strength was gone. Turns out he had a few grand on him. Lucky her. It changed her life......
Callie began a whistle as she walked down the street. Nearly in main city now. Her boots clicked as she stepped out, her pants were from a nice boutique, fitted and of a lovely, sensual fabric. She wore a silky blouse, showing off her small, jiggling breasts with the help of a push up bra. All black of course - all the better to blend in with the darkness. Her makeup was all Estee Lauder, her favourite, and her blonde hair was cut and conditioned and flowing over her shoulders in flowing waves.
It had been a pity leaving the gang. She'd seen them since - when passing an alley with a 'date' but they hadn't recognized her.
She swept into a bar, just starting to pick up for Friday night. Her eyes swept the room.
You know, it was funny how her kills never made much in the papers. A piece here or there, but for the most part, they just blended in with the rest of the street crime.
Got to be some benefit to not favouring a particular weapon and killing style, she thought, grinning.
Her eyes settled on her target. She could always tell the Northern Beaches bred boys. Alone, a little older, (she liked older ones - they couldnt react so fast) a little fatter. Looking troubled and bored. Perfect.
She crossed the room with the confidence of a business woman.
"Hi!" she said brightly as she slid seductively into the stool next to him, "Im Katie. Whats your name? You look as lonely as I feel!"
Like always, the red stained alcoholic eyes focused on her as if she were an angel.
He might just have a couple of grand on him. She thought. Wonder if I could rake out his credit cards? It could pay my bills for 6 months...........
| 47 |
| Vote |
subscribe to this blog
Comment by Ash
Flashes of memories
amazing story... easy to imagine as i was reading it. It is sad that there are so many people like this in the world hey... hopefully Katie will find her way....
ash
Comment by Kleonaptra
Kalikapsychosis
In high school, I found short stories incredibly restrictive. I wanted to write novels, detested poetry. Ive started my novels....Gone "EEEP!" and backpedelled to poetry. Short stories are my first love. I felt so comfortable writing this....So complete, so happy, back in my comfort zone. No pressure. Expect more.