![]() THE VOYEUR TRAINA Story by MICHAELANGELO BARNEZ![]() A Gothic tale.![]() ![]() When Lucrecia
told me that I’d been chosen for hers "First Time" I was surprised by
such a designation. Then I thought: "Holly s**t; now it is coming the
Armageddon." Although, I’d had this amatory experience many years ago,
related to my debut. Therefore, I
decided to be going with the flow. Following her initiative I grabbed her
delicate hand sheathed in a thin black silk glove, transparent lace, allowing
to be seen only the tips of his fingers. "Ho, my
god, you are burning!" I thought when I met and touched you. Therefore, I
decided to drop the two sharp stakes I had on the other hand, which were of
wood and silver. Why I had
those stakes with me? Well, just in case, because I grabbed them amid doubts,
when I heard the invitation. Lucrecia could be, in her just 20 years old and
taking advantage of the virtual anonymity of the contact "Chat", one
of those bugs, not so rare, that seems like a "man", but sucks blood
and something else, and gives a woman's name. That is what the stakes were for,
in case were necessary: the wood one, to stab it in the vampire heart, and if
he doesn't die yet, the silver one will be in the center of it identity, so the
"Chupa Cabro" can go to hell happy after all. "She's a
lady!" I said to myself when I saw her fine face, trying to get a good
look through the dark veil that covered her delicate figure, almost letting the
two sharp stakes, but suddenly I changed my mind, and I decided to keep it with
me. Lucrecia led
me by the hand through the darkness, between trains and cars stranded in a
lugubrious Train Station. We were illuminated only by the immense and radiant
face of the full moon, cratered as a survivor of a terrible chickenpox, as he
spoke in a tone of a complaint about her lover, who besides of having stolen
her sleepiness, he took her panties off and something else too. I do not know why she had to describe it, as
if I care. Nevertheless, I concluded that he seemed just like me, from the
times when I was very young. I felt a
little disappointed I was not the main character. "So, what the hell am I
doing here?" I wondered in silence. However, from the hidden depths of my
mind came up the answer: "Aha ... I'm a voyeur, and you want me to Peeping Tom
when you make love", exposing my suppressed voyeuristic compulsion. I wanted to
ask something, but she did not let me. "Just
hear me out. That, it doesn’t make you my accomplice," Or, maybe?" She
said as an order, but promising much more with a glance. I followed
her in silence, almost against my will, thinking that at any time, Lucrecia
would make a turn towards to me and would cut my neck, my hands or my balls,
same as she had told me she'd done with her other lovers. Although, I also
thought that, like the black widow, she was going to do something very bad to
which she would meet. I was terrified, but the compulsive and uncontrollable
lustful curiosity to see it fornicating with her lover, and maybe killing him
too, made me keep on going no matter what. Until a train
whistle announced its nearness. We stopped
next to the railroad, and she fixed her gaze on the train that was coming
pouring smoke and fumes amid a hell of noise. It was only
an instant, like a lightning, when we saw the machinist of the train, looking
out the window. His smiling face was young, and I thought I had recognized it
as the same as she had described when the train passed in front of us. "Bang, bang,"
resounded in my ears, and I saw a shining gun in her hand sheathed in black
lace glove, pointing to the machinist of the noisy and smoky mass of steel. © 2012 MICHAELANGELO BARNEZAuthor's Note
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Added on August 20, 2010 Last Updated on June 21, 2012 Tags: short tale, Story, tale, literature Author![]() MICHAELANGELO BARNEZLong Beach... and La Molina in Lima-Peru. , CAAboutMichaelangelo Barnez is the pen name of the writer, Miguel Angel Branez, who was born on May 18, 1947, in Lima, Peru. In the early 80's he immigrated with his family to California, and as soon as he .. more..Writing
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