Celebrating Student Creativity

I enjoy celebrating students' work on this blog.  This is a piece of creative writing produced by Sathvik, beginning with an apparently straightforward encounter in a coffee shop ... But it doesn't stay straightforward! 

The air around me was almost suffocatingly warm, worsened further by the incessant low buzzing of the people around, and the headache-inducing stench of coffee beans being crushed, which culminated in me staring pointedly at each ridge of the table’s wooden top in an effort to ignore the pain in my skull. 

 

As the time dragged on, seconds incessantly dragged into minutes which finally dragged into an hour, and I had finally resigned myself to such a fate and ordered something, if nothing else to justify the outing. Peering across the room, carefully avoiding the eyes of anyone who might notice my observation, there were several people sitting there alone; many people sat facing a laptop screen, small pieces of light reflecting off their irises as they disinterestedly drew a cup to their lips. Finally my own arrived, along with someone standing and approaching my direction.

 

“Hiiiii-” someone said, dragging the sound out until they sat opposite me, despite the empty tables interspersed in the room. “I hope you weren't waiting for anyone- you looked lonely so I thought- how are you?” she asked, her sentences running into each other as her high-pitched voice managed to intensify what I had previously thought to be the pinnacle of migraines. 

 

“I was actually- waiting for someone,” I answered, the surprise stealing half my sentence between my brain and my tongue. 

 

“Well that’s almost worse- you’ve been here long enough I think you’ve been stood up by your friend,” she responds immediately, followed by a quiet giggle she tries to muffle. 

 

She quickly drew onto other topics, talking almost one-sidedly about things from carrion to cats and lavender flowers to lebensraum’s origins. Despite the somewhat sudden entry, her talking became somewhat soothing, the high pitched tone cutting through the low chatter from the other attendees. As her speech continued, feeling simultaneously spontaneous and studied added to by the lack of pauses, I sipped slowly on my drink as her voice drew louder, the gentle chill of her palms only now making me aware of it atop my hand, and contrasting the mild warmth in my throat. As seconds again stretched into minutes, this time pleasantly as the sound of her tongue carried the sun into its setting. We finally were forced out, and her cheerful voice called out to me. 

“May I be allowed access to your abode?” she asked, before she stepped behind me to hide a giggle at the words she said. Still entranced by her, I agreed in a heartbeat, and we started on our trek to my home. 

 

Across the half hour journey, the high drone of her voice continued almost without respite, broken up only with my infrequent responses… although without the oppressive smell of the coffee from the cafe the sound became almost endearing. She spoke quickly, with the scarce pauses being only between topics, and her voice rang out seemingly without break nor breath across each. And so, the silence that came as I entered my home surprised me further, with her lingering at the entrance and diligently observing the flooring. 

 

“C.. can I follow you in?” she asked again, despite my offering this before we’d left… 

 

“Sure,” I responded, before bowing performatively to her. “You may enter this abode, miss.” After this ridiculous show, she finally crossed inside.

 

Light footsteps followed me, as a fox approaches in ambush, and as we crossed to the next room her prey was revealed. Her paws pounced upon my wrist, pulling it up to her maw before she gently touched her lips to my wrist. 

 

“s-sorry-,” I stammered, before she pulled her mouth away and bowed herself, mimicking the strange motion of my invitation. The archaic act, adding to her pallor, sold the scene of this victorian visit. 

 

“I truly thank thee, madam, for the privilege of experiencing such a dwelling,” she answered, “and I hope only for my ability to return?”

 

My mind, dandelion fluff at the breath of her lips, only returned with the sound of a droplet upon the floor, as I finally acknowledged the two carmine beads upon my wrist. 

 

“A-ah yeah…”

 

Her lips stood frozen as my tongue rebelled against me, with the unbearable noise of the clock behind me growing only stronger by the moment. 

 

“W-would you like to drink something?” 

 

From nothing but a momentary silence, my face had caught fire as I slowly backed away, preparing to make something for her.

 

“I’ll be ok. After all, I already got to taste something better,” she responded, her voice rising before she put her tongue out slightly, with a patch of darker crimson upon the pink. Before registering what she’d meant, I placed myself nearby and caught her eyes, before averting my own as though it was a mortal sin. 

 

I finally regretted suggesting this. My eyes darted about, assaulted by my mistakes in living here. A piece of trash, pills I forgot to move, and I prayed to the highest heaven that she hadn’t seen the poster behind her. 

As I sat, my mind simultaneously racing and stunned, one of my hands crept towards my neck while the other clung weakly onto my waist for support. I fiddled furiously with the linkage around my neck, tracing my fingers across each edge of the metal: up-right-down-right-down-left-down-down-left-up-up-left-up-right, my mind running along the memorised sequence like the konami code as I gently turned my head towards her, trying desperately to appear human. She shuffled towards me, remaining crouched down, to which I paid little note until she finally rose and I felt one of her hands shift to behind my neck. 

She moved quickly, with me only noticing it as I felt two sharp pains on my tongue as she quickly stumbled back from me, seeming off balance for the first time and with a small, glowing patch on her hoodie, which quickly cooled to reveal a scorch mark. She opened her mouth again to reveal it coated in red, as though she had drunk it from her prey, before she quickly stumbled to the door, holding onto the wall as she walked. 

 

“I am afraid I must take my leave. Shall we meet again, at that cafe?” She shut the door behind her, only looking back just before it closed. 

 

… And her lipstick was pink.