‘Silicon shaping the future. What a strange concept – technology relying on handfuls of sand. Though that’s simplifying matters a little. Microchips you see, are silicon, and silicon is THE ESSENTIAL component of what we know as sand...sand you see...we need more of it’

Fingers digging deep into the moist sand of an empty beach; it’s a grey day.

‘You think we can make it on a handful of sand? How far ahead does that put us over the average Joe who’s lacking in sand?’ A Pause, ‘does dust count you think?’

A far harder question. I ponder this query in silence, my gaze drifting over the ebbing horizon which seems to release silent emanations to the soul. I wonder what the words are. She takes a drag on her cigarette – sexy yet infinitely casual; things are good.

‘So who are you anyway? I can’t thank you for the free joints without getting your name first...’

We had been on the beach for a while. She and I had come separately to different beach huts. We met on a common plain – a large sandy dune facing the ocean; the perfect spot for a smoke. She had been there before me so I offered her drugs to make up for the invasion of privacy. Now, she wanted my name – why not?

We exchange names and look out towards the horizon; each silently gauging the person anew – a rose by any other name would seem very strange indeed; for one who knows a rose. I like her name though. It’s just like her personality; casual yet rather unrelentingly sexy. She judges my name positively too – her shoulders lean in towards mine for the rest of the conversation. Her eyes look deep...
‘Come home with me’

Awkward silence...

‘I’ll smoke you out...it’s the least I can do...you’ve totally made my beach trip’

Acceptance.

‘Oh, sure...Do you want to head out now? The sun left us hours ago; there might even be a storm later...’

We leave. I follow her car for perhaps an hour with an empty mind. Things pass on the side of the road and bleak colors follow behind. Perhaps that was a dog lying on his back in the gutter – road kill. Perhaps not; my mind gives very inaccurate representations of time flying by.

 

She lives in an apartment by herself. Obviously mommy and daddy have been footing the bill – there is wealth in a million unspoken forms lying everywhere waiting to be trodden on or broken. Maybe I’ll rob her later. Tsk tsk, such a strange mind…

‘You have a beautiful home...Its lush...is that a word? I seem to have heard it before’

A quick smile and the slightest squint. She finds me cute and amusing I suppose.

‘Thanks. I dint do much here though; sure you can tell in a second. It’s mostly my mom’s touch-ups and my daddy’s taste. It’s livable though – I grew out of resenting my parents a couple of years back; suits me fine.’
A lot smarter than I thought; but then again, that’s what I find all the time. People are exceptionally smart on an individual level – I wonder if she suspects how I feel about her. I feel a blush coming on...

‘Could I use the bathroom?’

That was unexpected; she stares at me with silent contemplation...

‘Sure. Straight through that door and to your right.’

Exit.

 

White tiles. Her bathroom is meticulously neat and clean; I felt terrible about the few drops of piss which landed outside the safe zone. Perhaps a tissue could take care of that – perhaps I should go through her cabinets...

Everything neatly arranged to a form of military precision; I was afraid to touch anything lest I should make my presence known. I couldn’t resist snatching up a pair of black panties out of her laundry pile though – to serve as a memento of sorts; no one would miss them, especially not her. No - she would think of that pair of missing panties and get turned on by the thought of where they ended up. Eroticism.

Masturbation. A quick job. A stress-reliever more than anything else. Taken too much time; should get out there before she gets suspicious...

Exit.


 

She’s changed. A delicate blue top; it does wonders for her shapely figure; so fragile – any man would want to hold her. Should I dare?

‘Let’s dance...I love this song...’

She is totally charmed by my quirky request...

‘Sure. C’mere...’

She clings to me as Robert Plant echoes a song on lost love. It is like a dream moving in reality; a strange and transcendent form of inertia. The sun has set though, and darkness spreads...

‘Well, do you want to roll or should I do the honors?’

We break apart and my heart cringes; missing her physical presence, already...She moves to the vacant sofa and I follow...

‘You do realize...I don’t do this all the time’

She is working on autopilot; her hands carefully working with the tobacco and hash – the joint will be ready soon, may as well play the conversation game...

‘Uhuh’

She gazes into me again...

‘You’ve gone rather quiet since the beach...are you okay?’

Was that a beseeching tone? She obviously wants this to be a little more comfortable than it’s turning out.

‘I’m fine...no, actually, honestly, I’m not okay...I’ve been thinking. Look, I know i'm an oddball, but you’re just so...you’re an ideal and its driving me crazy. I think maybe, I’m in love...with you’

Silence as she licks the joint all over (so it burns slower and lasts longer, clever thing). She’s done. A quick flick of the lighter and a harsh drag later, she turns towards me – sliding her legs under her as she flows; god she looks beautiful. What will she say...

‘Well’

More silence as she passes me the joint. She hands me the purple ashtray. I can feel her mind thinking and her heart pumping to solve the crisis. I play with the joint expertly in my fingers. She is far too busy talking to me...

‘That’s really flattering. I, I kinda like you too, in some way – you appeal to me.’

I pass her the joint. She doesn’t notice any change. She doesn’t notice I haven’t smoked any of it. A sigh of relief escapes me...

‘Hah. I see you think that’s rather strange. That’s okay. I bet you’re thinking that if I knew the real you, I would shudder and back away...Well, I’ve known you perhaps five hours now and you make me feel...special...and that’s all that matters, in the end yknow...In the end...’

Her eyes are gazing deep into mine and I feel the surge of passion pumping in her; her iris dilates ever so slightly. This is going to be interesting. I wonder if she noticed me lacing the joint with a little concoction of my own...

‘Well...since we both stand on the same plain. I say we resolve this without the messy problems. It irkes me terribly when a problem arises and it wont go away – stays in your mind and haunts you yknow...You and I should be bound together in simplistic glory. Not involved in this terrible terrible place. Not here; not in this apartment. Why should we remain trapped? Shaking and trembling like rats in a corner unable to flee, its terrible to see – so strange oftentimes I wonder to myself...You look strange – are you okay?’

She is trembling now...

‘Lay down on this sofa. You’ll feel a little better.’

I move her limp body into a comfortable slump. She is absolutely still now; her eyes express everything in their glassy stare – I level with her...

‘Now where was I? Ah yes. Its so strange, it makes me wonder...I’ve seen it many times you know, but never, never experienced it. Its my own creation – call it a designer drug if you must, but its not very marketable. Even the tiniest dose seems to result in a form of permanent paralysis...Used beyond this tiny dose, it kills... Do you want to know how much I used on you?’

The same glossy stare. Her iris shifts forms – she is trying desperately to look away; to move. Pity...

‘You’re not going to die.’

Silence. She blinks...thats happened before...Words forming slowly...

‘Please...Save me.’

Typical...

‘Save you? You sweet, sweet thing; I am the one who gave you the dose...there is no savior here’

A reply? I must lean in closer as she whispers...

‘Please...’

‘Come now...I know there is no pain involved – just a slow loss of feeling. Is that what is upsetting you? Arent you the least bit curious as to why I would do this?’

‘Please...’

She is beginning to annoy me. So typical. Just like the others...

‘Tell me you want to know why, and I’ll help you...’

She blinks. A minute passes as she hovers between emptiness...

‘Please...’

Her incessant rambling leaves me no choice. I loosen her belt and pull her pants down to her knees; flipping her over gracefully. Rape; I tend to be brutal... I come inside her within minutes; she had been dry and the friction helped...

I pull her wrecked body into a more comfortable posture again but I will have to remember to be careful in future – her left leg is broken and refuses to lay on the sofa with the rest of her body; its disturbing...

‘Well...Will you ask me why?’

Silence.

‘Ask me why.’

Silence. She is breathing. Her eyes are fixed on mine; quivering ever so slightly...

‘Ask me why.’

Did her lips tremble. A minute goes by. Are her lips trembling? Is she trying to say something? Why is this so difficult? Why doesn’t she ask me?

‘Why...Ask me why. I know you’re thinking it – now SAY IT. I WANT YOU TO SAY IT. Why hide it? I KNOW YOURE THINKING IT. NOW SAY IT. SAY IT...’

Her eyes look strange. A single tear makes a soft trail down her soft cheeks, pausing at her lips...

‘You disgust me. Here I find my ideal and she cannot even bring herself to ask the one question which would have made all this worthwhile. Worse, she hides it – on purpose. To hurt me. Your type – you never question. You never want me to be satisfied do you? If you would only ask me why, I would tell you and everything would be alright and we would both reach a joyful conclusion wouldn’t we? But no... You don’t want to ask me why I would do this. You PURPOSELY hold the question away from me. Fine. Have it your way.

My knife is in my hand once more and I wield it like an expert; ive had many occasions to practice this fine art – removing a person’s eyes is a delicate task. Its almost an art form and only a true master can claim to have held a human pupil in his palm...

‘Now open your mouth.’

An inane comment; her jaw hangs loose and I pry it open with little effort. I force the remaining dose down her throat and sit her up in an upright position. She is still breathing...

‘You only had to ask why, and all this would have been worthwhile. Now...Its a useless act – such a waste. Always such a waste. Why...’

I squeeze her limp hands, held closely in mine. The rise and fall of her chest grows slow. I hit her in the face with her pretty purple ashtray. It causes more blood to spill; very little real damage. Never mind, she can die on her own; I’ve done enough for her as it is...

Exit.


THE END

 

Afterword (By the author)


Based loosely around a comment by Zain shariq upon the condition of the mind of a rapist. I raised the point that rapists probably feel guilt-ridden about their actions but Zain vehemently argued against this idea – in his opinion, a rapist is one who does not feel remorse for his action – hence, this story...Also partially inspired by Portishead, Thievery Corporation, Projeckt Gothic (a compilation CD) Kate, Farah, Stephen King, H. P. Lovecraft, years of pornographic research and the concept, the ideal; God.