Vanilla

This is my entry into Finish the Story hosted by the @bananafish.



Vanilla

by @gaby-crb

I am woken up by the smell of coffee, wafting through the apartment. I stretch under the warm sheets and force myself to get up. I get dressed for work before following my nose into the kitchen.

My girlfriend is standing on her tiptoes. The bottom of her nightdress softly inching up her bare legs as she reaches into the cupboard for a mug. I reach past her and grab the one she had been struggling to grasp. She huffs and a sloppy grin spreads across my face. I’m not a tall person on average, but it has been entertaining having someone smaller around.

I take out a mug for myself and fill it to the brim with the pungent black liquid. I inhale deeply, savouring the warmth. A pang of guilt fills me as I take my first sip, I had promised my doctor I would cut down.

“I made you some lunch, it’s in the fridge, and I have a surprise for dinner.”

“Thank you.” I open the fridge and pull out the brightly coloured plastic box, my heart sinks slightly knowing its most likely a salad. Another recommendation from my Doctor. “What’s the surprise?” I ask knowing full well I won’t get a straight answer.

She laughs at me and hides behind her mug. “What time will you be home?”

I shrug. “Probably after seven, those roadworks are still there.” I finish my coffee and put the empty mug in the sink. I kiss my girlfriend goodbye and head out to work, regretting leaving her looking so seductive.

My drive to work is boring. I pass the workers as they are setting up their equipment and make a mental note of the time delay.

I get into work and say a few greetings to people I barely know. 5 years at the company and I hardly know anyone beyond my own department. After 2 meetings,1 completed report and many, many cups of coffee, I finally get to zone out on my lunch.

I take the lid off of my lunchbox, I was right to assume it was a salad. Everything has been neatly prepared, even the tomatoes are cut into little flowers. I can’t help but smile at the love and attention she’s given it. I text her.

Lunch is amazing love.

A smaller pot contains a mix of fruit along with a note reminding me to go for a walk. My Doctor suggested doing more exercise during the day, which is difficult when I’m chained to a desk for 8 hours. But I have thirty minutes left and a walk in the fresh spring air feels like a good idea.

I wrap up and set an alarm on my phone to warn me when I need to turn around. The street is quiet with only the occasional car hurtling past. I fall into a steady rhythm and concentrate on my breathing.

That’s when I see the blue lights flashing in the distance.

MY ENTRY

Standing at the source of the blue light, I realize it is the reflection off of a mirror from a game a couple of kids are playing. Turning to leave, a guy on a bike with a pizza crosses over the double yellow line and almost hits me before I had time to jump back, my shoulder blades smack the door.

If I had ten dollars for every time I almost got hit, I would be able to move out of the city for good. The only things holding me back were my girlfriend and the chances of finding a decent wage elsewhere being slimmer than a toothpick model.

A smell, intrusive with a bite and a bit euphoric, enters my nose while my attention is brought back to the boys on the game. A man enters the room. Some words are exchanged. The game goes off, the blue light disappears. The console, along with the cords and controls, is in the man's hands as he walks out of the door of the kids' room.

I step out from under the arch. I check my phone as the buzzer goes off. I've got fifteen minutes to return.

The smell returns again, stronger, putrifying, sickening. Death. This time the smell reminds me of the time I left a package of raw meat buried deep within my pack for a week while traveling back and forth through the hot sun before I decided it wasn't the pills I was taking for the cellulitis that was making me smell that way and checked my bag.

I cannot help but follow the smell down the stairs that lead down into the underground parking. Maybe it is coming from trash cans? Looking around, there isn't one in sight. Maybe a dead rat? Why should I care? I need to know.

My nose guides me down a row of cars. What if I'm caught? I don't live here. Would they smell it too?

A door swings open. Immediately, I duck down, shielded from sight by the Lincoln Town car's slender body. The reverberating click-clacking of shoes coming toward me covers the large orchestral sounds of my pounding heart.

Down on all fours, I peek under the car. Two cars away from where I'm at, I see swift walking feet and a few cords dragging on the ground. I poke my head up, it's the dad again, and follow him with my stare, hoping that he couldn't sense my presence.

He abruptly stops. Turns.

I duck down. Did he see me?

...

I wait.

The swift click-clacking starts up again and then stops after a few steps. I hear a door open.

"Maybe vanilla will get rid of that awful smell," said the man. I hear the door close, the click-clacking of shoes, then a door open and close followed by silence.

What is beyond that door?

Moving toward the door, a trunk that I touch with my hand opens, inside is a decaying body. A name tag with bright red lettering read "Little Canary."

I grab my phone and dial the police.

THE END



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7 comments
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Oh man, murderers down there. Get out of there or you are next..

Were you able to call the police? Reception could be bad down there.. 😊

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Oh course, there has always got to be a heckler who screams at the Hollywood written character to do the obvious, smartest choice. ... Does that sell? haha Beside side, I ran out of words. lol

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I like the way you tell the story, I feel like I'm on an entertaining walk with a chilling ending.

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Me too I like this style, fast and direct.

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I'm worried that vanilla won't be a solution with such a smell.
What can I say, other than you leave me wonder about "little canary"? Your style is fresh and very pleasurable in the sense that it's not artificial, flowery or one where it's seeable that you're striving to look for an elaborate metaphor at any cost.. I don't know if I gave the idea. This results in me reading your story in one breath and happy about having done it. Oh.. Also..

The reverberating click-clacking of shoes coming toward me covers the large orchestral sounds of my pounding heart

Very elegant and effective.

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"Little Canary" - I was imagining a mob boss who got taken out. Even in death, he doesn't stay quiet. lol

Thank you for your kind words.

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