publicado por autumn às 2014-08-29 22:31:27
Isto foi escrito para um concurso que o departamento de Inglês da minha escola organizou. Pensava que já o tinha postado aqui, mas inacreditavelmente não. Foi-me atribuido o segundo lugar.
Maria ran the tip or her fingernail along the edge of the half-empty cup of coffee. Another day at Joe's Diner. Since she'd graduated from high school her days had been only blank repetitions of the first one. All her friends were now in college, all excited about getting dorm rooms and maybe a new love interest. That wasn't for her. Maria had decided to stay in town even if everything she had ever wanted was to run away from that pit of hell. Her mates didn't understand how she could not want to go to college; on the other hand she didn't understand how they didn't care about the war in Vietnam.
She held a slim cigarette between her lips and lit it up. The newspaper was overflowing with pieces on the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr.; it made her sick. She still had a very fresh, crisp image of Jackie Kennedy at JFK's funeral. Nervously folding the newspaper she couldn't help but to feel like all people who tried to do something right died.
The brunette distractedly looked to the seat in front of her and after taking a second glance, she jumped. There was a guy sitting there, leeching on her pack of cigarettes.
"Who... Are... You?", she looked at him with a expression of annoyance. He was tall and thin. Really thin. So thin that his cheekbones seemed as sharp as knives. His sandy hair was long and looked slightly dirty.
"My name's John. What's yours?"
She couldn't help but to laugh. There was no way for a Brit to be in this town.
"What's up with the accent, Your Highness?"
The guy looked incredibly miffed by her comment.
"You bloody americans have no respect, it's really impressive...", John ran his free hand through his hair hand sat back. "It thought you were different."
"Oh really? Sorry I let you down.", she buried the cigarette in the glass ashtray and threw him a cynical smile.
"You aren't that disappointing. Your doe eyes have a lovely colour and you're fairly beautiful."
Maria rolled her eyes and finished her coffee.
"So, Daddy-O, what brings you to the middle of nowhere?", his bony hands were carefully examined by the young woman; the long fingers reminded her of the twisted roots of trees that grow in the swamps.
"Oh bits 'n bobs, nothing special...", John waved with this hand to the window. "This country is sold as the land of the free so I thought that maybe I would fancy this place. Apparently, I didn't. You're all rude. You only know how to solve things with cheap violence..."
"You're telling me! I hate people here exactly because..."
"Excuse you miss, I was speaking!", he interupted her, sounding even more offended than before.
Maria glared at him.
"Are you serious?"
As John kept talking, Maria sunk within herself. For once, a somewhat interesting person appears in this town and surprise, surprise! the weirdo is full of himself. He reminded her of all her alleged friends, who never cared about her opinions, who moved somewhere else without even thinking that she'd be left behind. The boys and girls that didn't wish to have a better life than their parents. The small town children trapped in the past decade. Maria didn't see things the same way they did and during all those years she thought it didn't really matter. By the end of the day, she realized she was only friends with them because they were forced to spend time together since childhood.
"Stop talking, I don't want to hear you.", Maria spoke, her voice undisturbed by her feelings. But John didn't stop.
"John, I'm telling you to shut up...", still, he looked at her, smiled and kept talking.
"Hush John! No one cares!"
"Stop being rude, Maria... That's really not lady like."
She felt her cheeks turn red; she had never told him her name. She was going to yell at him. She was going to call the police and leave that forsaken town for once.
"Sweetie," the middle-aged waitress touched her shoulder carefully "who are you talking to?"
"To John, Aunt Mae...", she pointed to the young man in front of her.
Mae's face became a horrified bundle of worry.
"But honey, there's no one there..."
Maria's heart skipped a beat and she turned her face to John. She gasped. His face was rotting, his clothes full of blood. With a wicked grin on his dead blue lips, John was laughing. Maggots erupted from his flesh, he had also lost his grey stormy eyes. His skeletal hand tried to reach her and Maria could only scream, but her voice was trapped in her throat and her body heavy on her seat. She couldn't escape, and the putrid corpse was getting closer.