Gabril and His Birds Follow einer Story

tbonechase Trystn Waller

Gabril, a young man plagued by odd daytime visions, finally settles down with a very special girl, although he wonders what loving might be like with a different skin tone. After some far-out dates, the help of a strange "collaborator," and her sudden disappearance, Gabril will struggle with "the right thing" and decide which "chick" he wants in the end. ** Disclaimer: I posted this story as not for under 13 because the explicit content is more verbal than graphic. However, some language might be too inappropriate for certain readers, so please use your discretion.

Kurzgeschichten Nur für über 18-Jährige.

#selfishness #blood #dreams #visions #interracial #race #racerelations #dating #love #romance #offbeat #supernatural #mystic #cheating #betrayal #family #shortstory #fictionalworld
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One Gabril

His hand touches down cold onto her bare thigh. Ooh, icy! the thigh thinks; the hand is thinking, How malicious I am with all my jittery fingers! Some ultra-violent movie is playing on the big screen. It’s a weekday, and in this part of Literville people usually can't afford to skip paying jobs for midday leisure. Shica isn’t working right now -- neither is Gabril -- but it doesn’t stop her from letting his hand feel her chilled goosey skin (why do they keep the AC so high?!) The two aren’t exactly dating yet, so I’m hesitant to call them boy- and girlfriend. Well, we’ll get to that.

So, while his hand reaches further up her leg Gabril can see that Shica is all his, and oddly enough her moans seem to sputter innocuously without bothering any other movie-goers. No sooner does Gabril feel on Shica’s thigh and graze her baby-maker when she prematurely erupts with tremulous movement and springs straight up. From the one other spectator’s view, a young lady’s shadow is blocking the lower part of the big screen inside their cozy burrow of a world.

She lionizes this moment by groaning and spasmodically calling out, “Gabril! Yes, ooooooh!” with six o’s, grabbing for Gabril’s hair and ear and whatever she can find all while his fingers turn into little needles that percutaneously embed themselves into the vascular dimension of his momentary queen. Her jumpy descant flows through the air for a few seconds as Gabril impatiently stands with her. The movie’s Lead has just exploded the entire set, so to speak. It is an intense moment and one that neither can forget.

“HUH,” she huffs eventually, “let’s celebrate.”

“HUH,” now he huffs, “t’where?” in his own made-up dialect. Gabril’s family comes from The Sando, a very poor and systemically broken part of town, but Kysh is a better place to find work (and a sidewalk not flooded by trash). Shica has learned to understand his jumbled tongue even though she's from Bridge, or at least well enough to accept an invite to the movies. They are both glistering in the darkness under the angelic projector lights glowing across their brown skins; this from the view of the one other spectator.

“Welp,” Shica blurts, “now to the beach!”

Gabril squints from the sound. “Why? So we can finsh havin’ sex?”

She squawks with laughter, “My sexual needs are fulfilled … for now, at least.” Gabril nods, disappointed since all he got out of it was a wet finger.

“I think you came quicker than I do, and you can — no lie — just touch it and I’ll--”

“No one wants to hear about your sex problems,” which I actually would like to tell, but Shica cuts me off; “Take me to the beach. You’re my new boyfriend.” Well, there it is. Gabril laughs nervously because he’s not sure if he likes Shica in that way. In fact, he’s not sure if he likes any girl enough to tie down, but especially a dark girl like her.

“So, you’ll jus tell me that I am, huh? I got no choice?”

“No, boy, you don’t. You’re the only person I know that makes me feel … well, I’ll tell you later. But you’re already my lover, we hang out all the time. Don’t you wanna be more than just a fuck boy?”

“I don’ see why not,” he answers noticing her most beautiful qualities in the low light.

“What does that mean?” she wonders as the credits roll down the screen.

“It means if you take me to the beach, I agree.”

“It’s nothing, I’ll do anything to be with you,” she sighs relieved. Now with both of them standing in front of the screen and Gabril’s hand halfway into Shica’s blue shorts, the lights suddenly flood the room to invade the moment’s intimacy. “I need you in my universe.” She cups her hand on his buttcheeks as his immediate reaction is to cup hers right back, and they both laugh at their own weirdness.

“Excellent show! Nice and red with all the blood and the stained linens of life. Meine Maria, good show!” says the one other spectator [My Mary].

“What the hell is he talkin’ about? Can he see’s? Are es eyes even open?” Gabril ponders one thought after the other, and the thoughts follow on. “‘Cuse me, sir, did you see--”

“The explosion? Oh, yeah! Great show, Mr and Mrs Cheeky! Very good way with words you both have, although the man could be more eloquent. How do you afford a movie in the middle of the week and still speak so cracked up? But, Jungfrau! the show. What beauty and gore in such a simultaneous flow. Just marvelously carnal.” [Virgin!]

“Helliz he talkin’ about?” Gabril asks on the verge of doing something about it.

“Take me to the beach, won’t you baby?” Shica asks one final time.

“To the beach! And you payin’ my fare,” he yells triumphantly with his hands raised, during which she takes advantage and steals a hug around his midsection. He grins against the stuffy air and looks down at her, rubbing his lips on her nose. “To the beach.”

“Do the right thing!” the single spectator orders at Gabril while they waddle toward the exit. They look back at him with pride.

“I will … don’ you worry ‘bout it,” Gabril responds, and they leave. Outside the air is a hot and mucky mess.

SHWEEP, she whistles at him. “Train station’s this way, young man.” Then she sneezes.

“Bless you. I’m ‘ot that young, anyway. It’s a miracle really dat I’m alive now. To be my age … from The Sando! It’s a damn miracle. Mos men my’ge are dead now.”

“You can’t be that old,” she tosses his suggestion away.

“I’m old, too,” he says. He is twenty-two.

“I’m not gonna believe you from this point on,” Shica lies boldly, and she catches Gabril yawning. “Tired?”

“Yeah, your yawnin’ is contagious. {I didn’t yawn, I sneezed, she corrects him} You never been with a light dude?”

“Funny segue. Why?”

“Was just wondrin’ if it was a diffrince. I donnow, I guess cos they lighter, it seems like they'd be more evolved or something. Like they got somethin' we don't. I always thought ‘bout bein’ with a light girl--”

“Ha! So sorry, since I guess you'll never know. You okay?” She notices he’s gone a little space-faced.

“I’m good. Just remembered I got some applications I gotta send in today.”

“That’s cool. I have to see the doctor today anyway. Meet me at the Square tomorrow? Maybe I’ll buy you a hat,” she teases. “Okay?” and she kisses his Adam’s apple. He walks away almost perfectly, but she calls out, “And quit thinking about those light girls. It’s all the same!” while grabbing her crotch. He cringes and nods obediently. Gabril looks out for a taxi while he imagines any kind of difference. He’s never been with a light girl before, and the thought of it sort of excites him. Was it really all the same, or could light skin be better? She said she hasn’t been with a light guy, but he wonders if she was lying, just like how he had lied and said that he'd stop thinking about light girls. He doesn’t like that feeling; thinking that a woman is a liar. It’s scary, or at least it is to him. At this point in his life, he’s forgotten not to say things that he himself doesn't want to hear.


Gabril sits down. He is in a library, or that’s what it feels like. A dream. He begins to read. He looks up. He smiles to see the luminous star that pulls the Earth. He looks back down. He reads a little more. Gabril isn’t smart — or so is said by most people — but still, he loves to read. The library caves in on itself as an earthquake erupts from the floor. Oh, wait, that was in a dream.

Gabril is anxious about something as he forces himself to read. But he cannot sit still. He searches through his phone for the next fifteen minutes trying to figure out where he should go. He finds a hat shop near the Square exactly fifteen minutes away (or that’s what GPS thinks). Gabril walks for twenty minutes down a steady slope until he reaches the bottom. Inclinations. There at the bottom he meets a middle-aged man, though he is now bald and grey-faced. He looks young in the eyes and mouth, like someone he'd seen at a movie theater yesterday.

“Who are you exactly?” Gabril asks the grizzly spectator.

“I’m your collaborator.” Confusion. Collaboration.

“Well, I don’ know what that is,” Gabril counters.

“I am here to bring you two together.” His tone is soothing compared to Gabril’s jagged dialect. A full-figured naked woman comes up and starts twerking on Gabril’s waist. Well, in a dream.

“Who’s you two?” he asks rightfully confused.

“Come with me, I shall show you,” the man says. Gabril remains perturbed, especially by the guy's boujee accent. “Have you ever thought of wearing a hat?” He is then blessed with the phenomenon of epiphany.

“You talkin’ ‘bout that girl at the hat shop?” It must be the same guy from the movies. “Shica?”

“Right, my boy, if that is her name. Shica. The dark girl hangs around the hat shop.” At least it was making a little sense. “You are supposed to see her, or is she just one of your chicks?”

“Damn, you're nosey. Le’s go geta hat, then!” Gabril directs their journey. Inclination. He grows wings and begins to fly … in a dream.

They walk back up the hill and Gabril spots a beautiful girl whose sight triggers the memory of a very particular smell. Similarities: names are both Native; both of them are dark but neither are native. Coincidences. Gabril tries on a hat purposely in front of her. “It’s a lovely day, i’n it?” Interrogation. Return.

“It is, isn’t it?” Shica pretends not to care and stretches to reach a high-shelf hat. Height deficiency. “Can you grab that blue one for me?” He notes the beauty of hazel eyes in front of a prim, mahogany face.

“What? Of course I can, let me course I for--” Mangled words. Nervousness. He looks up to the gods in that moment and says, “……………….” He then nurtures the idea of a compliment. “You got amazing eyes.”

“See, now you caught me! {Whadu you mean? he says} All you’ve ever got to do to get a lady is to call her eyes pretty. Haven’t you heard?” she asks. Shica. She touches his arms. She yanks on them and dislocates his shoulders. In a dream.

“I wasn’t try’n to get you, I thought we was already dating, ‘cording to you. I was just lettin’ you--”

“You think I’m easy because I’m dark? Well, I’m not. I might sleep with you tonight and kill you tomorrow.” Red flags. But to an adrenaline junkie like him, fascination.

Gabril tells her, “But the goal is to get you to sleep wit me tonight and still want me tomorrow. I’ll hide my knives, sure, but you can sleep over.”

Flattered. Shica. “I was thinking about it last night. I’m still a kid. And now I’m--”

Condemnation. It’s disregarded. “I’m young … only. I’d like to get with you, still. If you let me, I wanna spend evryday with you.”

“I suppose you do. Maybe I’m too ennuyeux, chato demais?” Romance languages [boring, too annoying].

“Nope. I care about you too much already. Besides, we’re already together, and I could lock you down right now wit just a few words.”

“Oh, what words would those be?” she asks.

Gabril -- not him, but his essence that lives on eternally after death -- says, “You’re cute,” and then adds so patiently but with all the care he can, "cuter than you know.”

Ecstatic. Lucid. Shocked, yet not as expected. “Well, you’re a ‘cute’ guy too. That’s why we went out. I’m gonna make you think I’m cute, and you’re gonna call me cute -- more than I could possibly stand it -- forever.” Eternal love (or cuteness?).

Surprisingly none of this love-dove talk scares Gabril away. He is so young and has never had a serious girlfriend, but suddenly a parasitic sting in his belly makes him want a family and a stable life. It is all he wants, well, for now. Shica makes him buy an ugly hat, he makes her buy an uglier hat, and he lets her go from the hat stand thinking of it as their first legitimate date. He walks happily to a small bridge over a running creek. The birds cheer on his recent success. He pulls a dagger from his left pocket and jabs it in his chest before falling into the water directly below. In a dream.

His “collaborator” comes out from below the bridge (apparently it’s one of his homes) and reaches in for a hug with Gabril. “Holy-- dude, how’d you fine me here? You jus pop out the ground whenever I’m close by?”

“I came to see what you found out, my boy!” the man responds.

“I got a name, a Facebook account, a number, stuff like that. Her name’s Shica Longuaise. Kinda weird, huh? I think it’s Native, like mine. {yes, we went over this} By the way, don’t you have a name?”

“No, no, not that I can remember anyhow. Hey, you got some pictures of her … Shica Longuaise?” he says as if announcing the arrival of some royal duchess.

"Yeah, take a look,” he says, skipping through her profile as he searches for the sexiest pics he can find in her gallery. He encounters a video of Shica standing on a stool with a rope tied around her neck. In a dream.

“You’re having lots of visions, aren’t you? {Gabril gives the man a look like, How did you know?} I get them too. Comes from a troubled mind. Don’t worry, I won’t tell her. It’s our secret!” So strange, but Gabril’s starting to like these weirdos. He looks at the man’s eyes and notices something very familiar. Their color or shape look like something he’s seen before in a dream. I mean, a real dream. He then notices a very unfamiliar odor from the collaborator’s clothing and coughs up like he’s retching. “Whoah, is that her?”

A young form similar to how he described Shica’s moves anxiously across the bridge under the navy-indigo sky. She’s mumbling something like, “Goddamn bums are takin’ over,” but it doesn’t register for the two men. As she hustles on the walkway in between the streetlamp spotlights like a stage actor searching for a cue she is abruptly stopped by Gabril.

“Hey babe! What’re you--” however, the lady gives him two quick taps, one on the nose, another on the ear, and flees from her spot back into the darkness. Gabril utters a low Shit, and resigns red-faced back to the bridge side with his funky friend.

“I’m go’n da see my girl, man. My mind is jacked up when I’m not wit her. I know she live in Bridge somewhere close to the ocean. I’m guh hop my butt on a train tonight and go’n see her. Tha’s the only thingat make sense.”

The collaborator gives him a sleepy nod of approval, “Right on, my boy. Do what you think is necessary. Do the right thing, like I always say.” I only heard him say it twice, but according to him, it’s a regular phrase. Anyway, Gabril does exactly like he said. He gives the man a dap on the fist, and the man gives him a heavy bite on the neck. In a dream.

After just some moments preparing his belongings he is on his way to see Shica. He rocks together with the train imagining that she’s imagining him coming after her in this very moment. Dreams. We’ll never know for sure what she is doing right now, maybe posting pictures or loving someone else’s -- she’s definitely a lover, not a liker. Whatever is on her agenda tonight, she cannot guess that a speeding rocket with a ridiculous hat and rope strap backpack is blasting off to claim her once and for all.

23. Dezember 2019 16:37:18 0 Bericht Einbetten 1
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