Blue Ending on a Red Day..

Blue Ending on a Red Day..

Status: Finished

Genre: Thrillers

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Thrillers

Summary

A short story about a bad say with an interesting ending.

Summary

A short story about a bad say with an interesting ending.

Content

Submitted: March 06, 2012

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: March 06, 2012

A A A

A A A


 

Rise and shine-7:30 am

Clark woke up with his alarm beating on his eardrum and pressed the five minute snooze button with delight. For him those extra five minutes were sweeter than they were for most, Clark hated his life.

His girlfriend didn’t stay round last night which was a good thing, he hated the bitch. The usual walk in his underwear to his bedroom window was typical. The morning cigarette was the same; he really didn’t know why he bothered anymore. The taste of nicotine was just a reminder of his daily pattern, one that had become more deadly than the habit itself.  Cancer would be a nice change, he thought briefly sucking on his cigarette trying to embrace the infection.

As he leaned on his windowsill he looked at his room, it mirrored what was going on in his head, shit everywhere. Where to start?

His dog had died three days ago and he wished all problems could just disappear like that, just go away, mainly his girlfriend. He had told her how she had become the tumour on his week, and she remained there like a tumour does. The only difference being a life threaten cist would be easier to get rid of, he thought. 

Today it’s going to happen (he’d said that too himself the last four days). Today he wanted her to disappear. The party around his later would be the perfect distraction. First he just had to get work out the way.

 

Workplay-9:02 am

So there he was again sat at his desk like he had never been home. Playing the clock watching game from the moment you step into work meant you’ve already lost, he said to himself.  Blue was the colour, inside and out. Sat on the blue fabric office chair, hands on the blue plastic surface of his desk, in his almost blue shirt and wearing his dark blue tie. Dark blue tie? He thought. I don’t fucking help myself do I! ‘Why didn’t I wear red?! ’He said…teetering on insanity. I like red; they want me to feel blue, well red it is tomorrow, they brought this on themselves! Then snap went his pen, the blue pen he’d been digging into his leg. The snap bringing him back, and the red he had wished for coming a day early in the form of blood seeping through his trouser leg.

“Clark, everything ok?”

No I just stabbed myself because I don’t like my blue tie

“Yeah I’m fine thanks”

He said with a grimace to Gabrielle the office eye candy.

“Are you sure?”

She said leaning on the panel separating their desks, resting her breast on the top, her large breasts behind her tight white see threw top. He admired the way her black bra outlined her curves so vividly. He was gazing.  Shit, what did she ask me?

“Clark?”

“Am fine thank you Gabrielle”

Thanks to your tits, he thought with a smile to himself. He turned back to his desk and adjusted himself to a work position. Trying to put the pain in the leg to the back of his brain, which wasn’t too hard as most of the bleeding had stopped. A quick glance at the office clock told him it was 9:14am. He thought if he went to tend to his leg that would be another fifteen minutes wasted. That would mean he was definitely winning against the clock.

With his usual work bored brain high on a cocktail of pain, wasted time and Gabrielle’s breast he readied himself.  Moving back in his office chair was when he saw the pretentious bastard staring right at him.

Andrews, the boss. How long has he been there watching?

Andrews had talked to him before about his lack of work. Clark hated him with a passion. Clark stared right back at him meeting his stare with equal intent. If Clark was to be called into the office he was ready, the A4 piece of paper had enough material on Andrews to make him blush a shade of red. All the times he had chatted and wasted ‘valuable company time’. A trip to the office is what Clark began to crave as he stared into the dirty little eyes of the dirty little man. His paper would read like poetry in that office, provoking emotions, accompanied by words like equality and fair play they’d act like missiles on the boss’s mind. The irony was his argument would be unfair, because the boss was as thick as pig shit, thought Clark. Ignorance is bliss, and when you’re wearing an Armani suit with it, it’s fucking heaven. The boss took of his designer glasses and tucked them into his overpriced shirt. Lipstick on a pig is still a pig, thought Clark.

“Clark, can I see you in my office” said Andrews.  He’s wearing a red tie… Thinks he’s got it all figured out, thought Clark.  

 

A trip to the office- 9:22 am

 

This it? Discovering how transparent the company he worked for really was. No window, no desk it was more of a surveillance room than an office. The area manager was there too, sitting on a small plastic blue chair. She looked more like a school teacher, plastered on her face was a permanent frown. “Sit down; you know why you’re here?” Said the boss

“Is it because you haven’t been able to turn me into a productive member of the team?”

“Errm yes”

He’s made a mistake, thought Clark.

“And why is that Mr. Andrews?” The boss looked at him confused.

“That’s what we’re here to ask you”

“No Mr. Andrews, the question was why haven’t you turned me into a productive member of the team?”

“I don’t understand?”

Of course you don’t you thick fuck.

“Is it because you would rather spend your time trying to chat up Gabrielle, or spend two hours on a Tuesday talking about Wednesdays football game, is that your idea of productivity Mr Andrews?”

Clark was on the offensive, he imagined himself as a Roman centurion with his spear hard in the neck of Andrews.

“You can’t throw around allegations round like that! What proof do you have?”

Blurted out Andrews with his eyes heavily on the area manager. Beautiful said, thought Clark, Andrews had just stepped into his bear trap.

“That brings me my next point” said Clark taking out the tightly folded piece of A4 paper from his pocket. He began to read from the paper, all the times Adrews had come to work late, chattered by the water fountain, gone home early, along with the dates and specific times. He went on for three minutes until the area manager stopped him.

“Mr. Clark that’s more than I need to here. Thank you, Mr. Andrews the company has spoken to you before about such subjects and you leave me with little choice. Mr. Clark you may leave the room.”  Clark felt as if he had just slammed home a winning basket and broke the backboard. Looking into Andrews eyes as he opened the door to exit he could see the glass smash and fall to the floor. But as Andrews stared back he could see he had started a riot in his head. Clark hadn’t just reached in and torn out Andrews insides,  he had taken what was left put in a shredder and sent him into space.

One less at the party tonight, thought Clark.

 

Almost home 5:18 pm

 

Stood in the wooden corridor just outside his flat door was Peter. Peter was a middle aged hippie with an elevated opinion on himself, the result of spending six months in India and another living with chimpanzees. Both environments left him feeling like the son of god. If Peter wasn’t interesting enough he was also a manic depressive and an alcoholic, whose preaching’s became enforced lectures after a bottle or two of red wine.

“Hey Clark” Said Peter, sending his red scarf over his shoulder (he wore it regardless of what season).

“Is tonight still happening?

Fuck he remembered

“Yeah Peter, eight o clock start, still bringing the paella?”

“Yeah if you want me too”

Peter was a clever man, a little too clever. He had over educated demons talking in his head, and when they were boozed up they crawled out his mind and wreaked havoc.

Peter’s a psychopath

About a week ago Clark had found Peter’s bible he left in the corridor, with Peter’s suggestions in it. Lines crossed out with suggestion next to them, what god have should said… Three days ago Clark stood at his flat window and watched a drunken Peter kick the living crap out of a homeless man.

“You don’t mind me coming do you Clark?”

I’d rather eat my own testicals

“No Peter of course not, you’re more than welcome”

He said with that fake smile.

 

Bathing in blood 7:14 pm

 

Forty five minutes before the party Clark lied in the bath. Candles on each corner provided an orange light and a shimmer on the bathwater. This was his time, but it wasn’t quite perfect yet, so he reached for the knife.

Dipping the kitchen knife slowly threw the water and lining the blade up against his arm, he shut his eyes. Pressing hard he waiting, pressing harder again, then it came

Relief, yes, you make it all bearable

Looking down at the blood seeping into the water he fantasised he’d actually gone the whole way. The water somehow made the blood look more dramatic, more plentiful, which he loved. Getting out of the bath he looked at what he had created as he dried himself. The bath water was the lightest shade of red he tried hard to imagine darker, thicker.

One day I’ll get there

He thought as he reached for his long sleeved shirt, putting it on and hiding away the scars on his arms…Hiding the real him.

 

Let the part begin 9.22 pm

 

I don’t believe he turned up

Thought Clark looking at Andrews through the crowd of bodies. The party was in full swing and people were having fun. Drinking, eating enjoying the music. Andrews had stumbled around, he’d obviously had a few whiskeys or something before he came, it didn’t look like he’d been home. The same work clothes but without the red tie. Andrews wasn’t Clarks only headache. Stephanie his girlfriend had been sending him daggers all night. He hadn’t bothered to talk to her, he simply couldn’t be bothered. Every time she’d give him an evil look he just thought

I really couldn’t give a shit about you

“Can I see you in the bathroom Clark?” Stephanie said with a serious look in the kitchen.

“Really?”

“Yes” He followed her, a little tipsy… and it began.

“What the fuck goings on!”

“Huh?” he responded with a smile.

“You going to ignore me all night?!”

“Look what the hell do you want?”

“I don’t know, maybe a little affection!”

“Why the hell would I do that? You’re a complete bitch!”

“Well it doesn’t look good then does it”

“No, were over”

“What” She said panicked “Please don’t do this to me Clark, please! I’ll change!”

Clark just looked at her as she fell to the floor, a little bit of sobbing then the quite. He knew what she was doing, he’d seen her pull the same act several times and he was bored of it. She was cutting herself with her keys looking desperately for some kind of affection, Clark didn’t care this time. He walked out the bathroom door and decided to leave her there. Locking it behind him he went back to the party.

 

End of the line 9:45pm

 

Drunken Andrews sat on Clark’s lavish sofa, his expression pissed and slurred. His glazed eyes watched Clark, from across the room chatting to friends on the opposite sofa. Clark didn’t want to meet his gaze this time, he was on man on the edge, a tequila away from a making a scene.

“You bastard”

Slurred Andrews as he struggled to stand up, he had everyone’s attention as the rooms eyes and ears focused in.

“You’re a petty little shit Clark; you think your stunt earlier was clever don’t you? Getting me fired” 

His words were spaced and sloppy. Clark felt a little uneasy with everybody looking in.

“You think about my kids when you did that? I was just doing my job you sad little bastard, jealous aren’t you? You over educated, pompous prick”

The party people laughed a little and Clark felt terrible, not because he felt sorry for Andrews but because he was embarrassed.  Andrews gave Clark a long stare, and then with one quick movement of his arm gave him his Jack Daniels and coke, to the face.  A chorus of loud laughs surrounded Clark who felt trapped within his own home. Humiliation, the ticking clock of sanity came to a sudden stop, stopped by a mallet and broken beyond repair. No one could read this clock, it was time was time to leave. Insanity started at the feet and rose up quickly, hitting the brain within a second. A quirky smile crawled onto his face as Clark looked at Andrews.

“Mr Andrews would you care to meet me in the bedroom?”

Said Clark calmly, placing his drink on the coffee table in front of him. The watching hyenas smiled as they supped on the vodka and orange and beers, blissfully unaware of the terror inside Clarks head.

“Gladly”

Said the drunk Andrews

The thick fuck has slipped up a second time today, thought Clark. But this will be the last time.

 

The Big Choke 9.53 pm

 

Pulling down hard on the tie Clark began to choke the drunk. Contracting his biceps, fiercely pulling down with all his weight. Andrews struggled, pushing back smashing Clark into the cupboard doors behind them. Andrews tried to get hold of the thin red fabric around his neck, trying to elevate the pain, the suffocation. The music in the next room created a soundproof cage for Clark, and loud thuds on the wooden floor could only be heard by them. Using it to his advantage he threw himself down grabbing hard on the fabric dragging Andrews down to the oak floor, BANG!  They hit the floor hard and Clark reacted quickly, wrapping the tie round Andrews’s neck harder. Pulling harder and harder, Andrew face turned blue, beautifully contrasting with the red tie Clarks grip did not tier as desperate muffled sounds of agony leaked from Andrews’s red and purple face. Andrews became until limp, he fell forward dead on the wooden floor.

Clark looked at him with a smile realising his grip. He stood up and pulled the white bed sheet aside. Picking up Andrews with a struggle he placed him in his bed, then covering him with the white sheet. Back to the party thought Clark.

 

Kitchen killings 10.06 pm

 

“Everything ok?” Asked Angelia the middle aged obese ball of a secretary the second he stepped outside his bedroom door.

“Fine thanks Angelia, just fine” Clark responded with a smile identical to the fake one he had managed to perfect over the years.

“Really? It didn’t seem ok”

“Like I said Angelia its fine, he’s just had a little too much to drink and he’s having a little rest… that ok with you?” His face looking a little more serious than before.

“Yes fine, I didn’t mean to…”

“Well I suggest you fuck off and go enjoy the rest of the party, understood?”

Angelia stood there in total shock as Clark grinned and walked away.  He walked past the people in his house as if they weren’t there to his open style kitchen. He began to dish himself up some paella when Peter walked up beside him. 

“I hope the Paella is just fine?”  Peter said. He stood with a glass of red wine, the red scarf and the red cheeks suggesting he’d had a glass to many. Clark knew a lecture about life was coming any second so he took the initiative.

“Peter, are you aware you’re a depressed alcoholic with an elevated opinion on oneself to shield you from the truth about your failure to marry a women and raise a family. And the fact you’re fighting the urge to do so in some warped belief you are better than the rest of society is the very reason you’re depressed?”

Peter responded with a smile that quickly disappeared. Clark stared as Peter’s eyes seemed to turn red. Clark was angry too, fed up with seven months of long meaningful chats that all meant- you’re a piece of shit Clark, he’d had enough.  As Peter stepped forward with heavy breathing and anger that boiled over inside Clark reached for the wine bottle on the kitchen side. He grabbed the top of the bottle and slung with all his force smashing the glass across Peters face. Peter fell to kitchen top side dragging down his paella with him to the floor.  Clark began stamping hard on his head, boots to the face followed by the Brocken wine bottle.

“This is for that homeless guy you freak!” The screaming from the people began with the blood. No one dared to get near the maniac, people threw down there glasses and ran to the closest exit. Peter had stopped moving nearly a minute ago but the stamping hadn’t.  When it did Clark looked at the face of a man who no longer recognised. All shades of red with interesting textures.  Clark hadn’t even noticed the people had gone as he poured himself another glass of red wine. He walked to his stereo and turned up the music, it was his favourite fur Elise.  He looked at himself in the mirror. I’m a bloody mess, thought Clark as he headed to the bathroom.

 

 Finale 10:27 pm

 

Clark unlocked the bathroom door, stepping inside he smiled at Stephanie closing the door behind him and locking it. Even though the man was covered in blood and she had heard the screams outside and she remained silent. Standing up from sitting on the bath side she asked.

“Clark what’s happened to you?”

Standing there with a wide smile he reached for the knife he had cut himself with earlier, his blood still on the blade.  Stephanie’s eyes grew wide and her face twitched as he stepped forward. “Clark you don’t need to, we can get…” 

Then it happened, he didn’t even notice it but there it was, his hand on the black plastic and the blade threw her neck, right through coming out the other side. She didn’t try to speak, the blade threw her windpipe meant she couldn’t, but she didn’t need to, her brown sorrowful eyes said everything.

Why? She thought. She still loved him.

A kick to the stomach sent her stumbling back, the knife ripped out her throat leaving a pool of blood on the bathroom floor. Moving back she fell into the bath tub hitting her head on the marble. More blood thought Clark with a smile.

With insanity in its most violent form Clark stood over her at the end of the bath tub, inspecting her like a butcher would. Where to start?

With his fantasy about to be fulfilled, he leant over putting the bath plug in. Then grabbing the knife with both hands he plunged it into her chest with a scream. Her brown eyes moved frantically, watching the blade slash in all directions. The more the bath filled with blood the more frenzied his attack.  Then Stop, it is time, he thought gasping for air while soaked in his girlfriends blood.

With standing up in the bathtub came the thick splash of blood, he looked down into the dead brown eyes with a sigh of relief. She’s gone.

Red was the colour. The red pool of blood on the bathroom floor, the drenched blood red clothes they wore. It seemed red wasn’t the colour of anger but more the end. Red had rescued him and it was the end of his blue day, red meant it was all over. Stepping out the bath and out the comforting warmth of blood, he walked round to the end of the bath tub and grabbed her dead feet. Dragging out the corpse, trying not spill to much blood. Thud went the corpse on the bathroom floor, dragging her leaving a trail of blood. He began to undress, getting naked he looked at the blood filled bath and smiled. Stepping in, he lowered himself into it, he began to wash himself in the red stuff.

Red is what I needed all this time, red the colour of romance, the colour and anger and aggression, red is the colour of passion, and red is my savour. He thought and smiled as washed himself in the blood, letting out a laugh of joy…

But then it came, the inevitable blue, into his bathroom to take him away. He tried to put up a fight but blue is always there and the blue always wins against men like Clark, the unstable the insane. And blue is the way it always ends.


© Copyright 2018 Kieran Marsden. All rights reserved.

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