Thus Spoke Love
~Derrik Walker was twenty-nine years old and drifted through this world a very unfulfilled man who seemed to never have the simple things in life he wanted. He didn’t want money or nice things. He wanted to be in love with a woman that returned the same love. He wanted to know what it was like yet never took the actions necessary to find it~
Every day I saw her across the street in the window, both of us on the second floor - her window always open. I never really meant to look - and she did discreetly notice. She looked into my eyes when we passed taking clothes to the laundry until her owner arrived home each night. It was a beautiful spring and people were out jogging, walking dogs and living normal lives. The pristine greenery and sweet air seemed a cloak placed by Satan himself to hide the sickening abuse from view; not from me though. I witnessed the explosive rage of that man and the hammering fists pound her frail being. I know I might induce the resemblance of a coward but in no way am such.
She and her assaulter walked by one afternoon as her face revealed blackened eyes, covered well beneath a varnish of makeup - still I noticed. He was a vicious lawman always discharging a foul grimace, incessantly showcasing his hatred. As they passed she turned saying silently, “please help me. It is you that I love. . .” In my imagination of course - though I know she said it in her heart.
Perhaps I was foolish for dreaming of such a love. Certainly I could be killed by this monster of a man. I was witness to his killing a puppy before the eyes of a little girl last week. He also backhanded the innocent child across the face while asking the woman I secretly desired - if she loved him. She was aware I had seen the whole situation yet ran into back into his arms, though fearing for her life. Why was I such a craven? I fantasized of pulverizing his skull with a lead pipe or stabbing him repetitively until my arm cramped from exhaustion. None the less, it was I who felt like dying. My friends thought I was insane for many reasons, one being my break up with my fiance Rachel. She told me that she did not love me and if I needed love, I needed to go move back in with my mother. In my way of thinking, what better reason could I have for a breakup?
Ray, my best friend from high-school came by the following afternoon, despite my disturbing thirst - it was a needed break. I began, “So, how’s your mother?”
“My mother? Derrik, you know damn well were talking about you. You are out of work, you live in some freaky fantasy world with . . .well, damn - I don’t know how to help you. These delusions you have about your neighbors - I mean, you need some professional help.”
I dig words from from the meat of my soul, “Have you ever loved someone that you just know, you know in your heart is the one - but you can’t change it?”
“Who are you talking about? That girl across the street? She’s MARRIED Derrik - to a U.S. Marshall. Not to mention that he could make you disappear. I told you before - nobody gets to have their dream girl. You just settle for whichever one will stay with you. Love is dead.”
“What?” I grunt. “I want to to something daring, taking a huge chance. I will get this woman;
I love her.”
“You don’t even know her damn name you freaking moron!”
I began feeling intensely vexed and said, “Just because you think love is dead, and God is dead, and you and your wife in that theater of misery you call marriage - don’t know anything about love! I know you base your life on Nietzsche’s “Thus Spoke Zarathustra” and you don’t even know what it’s about.”
Blood rushes to his head as a sickened scowl engraved his emotions in crimson anger. Ten deep breaths later he mutters, “I teach existentialism to our university’s finest! Don’t ever think you understand anything that I haven’t already learned as child - my boy. I’m leaving, I can’t stand listening to all this corny love nonsense - goodnight Derrik.”
Weeks passed as I pace the floors having learned that she and her nefarious husband are moving away. I believed that indeed I was falling apart - I just can’t seem to actually do anything to change it. Then - a light knock on the door. I make my way from the couch to see who it could be. I don’t believe my eyes; I cannot breathe - my vision is going. . .
“Hello Derrik. I know your name is Derrik.” She smiles, “I finally have a chance to see you! I’m Veronica, Veronica Hanson.”
“I’m so sorry. . .so sorry I didn’t help you.” I said, beginning to cry.
She wraps her arms around me and yes, this is love. “Derrik, We’ve been passing one another for three years without ever once talking. As sad as that is, it’s all that kept me going.”
I could hear her heart beating as we gently kissed. Her sugared scent released a part of me
I have never before known - I felt for the first time - like a man. A blistering inferno of passion ignited and we made love for hours, never did I remember falling asleep - that magical night.
A thundering percussion of explosive impact snatched us from our dreams. I was jolted to find Veronica gone. A scream from the den, “You filthy slut!” her husband was in my apartment.
He’s pinned her to the floor punching her repetitively. Blood spurted from every laceration, a whimper followed every blow. She was gurgling vomit and blood, unable to breathe - there’s a knock at the door while I run to end this piece of human garbage. I kick him in the face punting his skull as a football. I throat an echoic cry of pain, “Veronica!”
As I now stare into the barrel of a .44 Magnum he says, “I’d like to introduce my self - I’m
Stan. I’m Veronica’s husband.”
The front door is ripped from it’s frame as Ray has arrived. “What the hell is going on here?”
“Back off” instructs Stan. He turns to me. . . raises his weapon - I see a mangled slab of bloody meat blast from my chest leaving a scorched gouge where my lungs used to be. The smell of gun powder and cooked flesh permeates my senses. I hear a struggle and more gun fire. I convulse in tears. Ray and Veronica lean over me. She lies on me shivering in fear. “I love you, Derrik! Please don’t die!” I see a look of insane disbelief inscribed in Ray’s face.
I feel cold. . . I ask Ray, “Is God dead? He’s in tears holding my hand.
“No, Derrik.” He is shaken, “God is here buddy. God is here.”
I barely can breathe, “Go love your wife Ray. I think now - now you know what love is.”
I look in Veronica’s soothing green eyes. They just stared at me so sadly - so I smiled.
“I love you Veronica. I really love you. . .”
I am no longer breathing, but still know that I felt love. I knew at least for a moment, I had truly lived, and truly been loved.
Authors note: I still am not satisfied with this story but the elements are strong. It needs to be longer, but I felt it was best to publish now so it has a chance to be reviewed, and I can read being very relaxed. I think I will develop it into a longer story and tie in Ray’s headstrong view of life according to Nietzsche’s philosophies more effectively into the plot. At this present time, I am cooking my brain studying phenomenological criticism, semiotics, post-structuralism and deconstruction literary theories. My goal is to incorporate these concepts in my writing without becoming overly intellectualized, and alienating ninety percent of the public. I will use them simply - as this is, where it is most effective.
Bobby Revell
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I liked your story. Its so tragic that Derrick died after understanding the love he had for her was real. I wonder what Ray felt in the end.
If you decided to make that community,”Blogs of Misery and Darkness Network.” I’ll join. I wish I could do payperpost. It requires a blog at the age of at least 3 months. Mine is still fairly new. In time.
Thanks Randy, I can’t seem to write a story without a horrible tragedy to give it riveting emotional contrast. But a site like that would be where all the big hearted advice bloggers would frequent!
i can tell you they when home, and she fucked his brains out… some girls just like a wildly violent man…..derrick was just a pawn in her desperation for his only real emotion… his violence…..
Hi Paisley, I wrote it in such a way that I knew women would see it different than men. Very interesting!
Oh, Bobby. This is so sad… and good. I love Ray’s dialogue at the end. I had a lump in my throat.
Hi Adria!
I don’t like shallow endings and short stories give you such little room to work with; thus the ending and how it unfolds is of the utmost importance. You definetly felt it the way I intended. Bitter-sweetness and the morality of appreciating love, which is often taken for granted in this world. Thank you Adria!!!
Hi Bobby,
How’ve you been?
I’d like to think that Derrik never swayed in his belief of true love. He went away peacefully, knowing that at last, the pessimistic Ryan believes in the existence of true love. Two thumbs up!
:)
Thank you Marzie, you did manage to make me smile today! I just didn’t have time to develop the story. Really, the way it unfolded was sort of choppy. I’m my own worst critic though. The important part was the message and lesson of the story. Thanks so much and have a great day!
Hey Bobby, you should give yourself more credit. For a two-hour piece, this is pretty fantastic and detailed!
Am waiting for your next piece.
Wow, you are the sweetest. You know I think of you as my most important reader. Honestly, I was so anxious for you to read my story it drove me crazy. The first time I saw you I was sure I’d get to know you. I wish would have met you years ago, but I am so glad I did now. You can get in touch with me any time 24-7. Thanks again for the positive feedback. You made my night. You are awesome:):)
Awwwww, I’m so flattered Bobby to have you think of me as your most important reader!
And, I’ve just tagged you to have your say on Web 2.0, check it out here http://mariuca.blogspot.com/2007/05/mariuca-connection.html
I was wondering about the tag! I was seriously hoping for exactly this. I will write the best I’ve ever done:)
Thank you Marzie!!!!!
Guess we’ll never taste the sweetness of the fruit if we don’t give it a bite. We’ll just never know..
Hi Reema,
Yes, and no matter how bad we may have been hurt because of it we should never be afraid to fall in love. Without love, we are already dead. . .