Shaun Botica
Stories (3/0)
Double vodka on the rocks
“Double vodka on the rocks, lots of rocks” the clear liquid swimming in ice encompassed in its plastic vessel is placed on my folded out tray. I look deep into the the circular rim, raise it to my lips, a warmth travels down my throat and hits my stomach. It’s deep, dark, the only warmth I have felt since her passing. Emotionless, numb, I take another sip. “C-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-caaaaannnn I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I have whaaa-aaaa—aaaaat he’s, can I have what he’s drinking” The voice stammers across my chest, filling the void beside me, filling the void inside me. A crooked smile, bushy eye brows, an un-ironed shirt. “i-I-I-I-I-I-I’m mo-o-o-o-o-oving to Sydney, w-w-w-w-hy are you flying there?” The image of my daughter being lowered in the ground flashes before my eyes, over and over again; “to see an old friend.” I can’t tell the truth, if I utter the words, my daughter has died, it becomes real. I am not ready for it to be real. What is real? “I-I-I-I-I dd-dd-ddon’t have f-f-f-frrriends in Sydney. So-o-o-o-ometimes i-i-t’s hard to speak to people”. I want to be encouraging but I can’t find the strength, that left me when the life left Indie’s eyes. Sixteen years of age and she felt more pain than other’s do in a lifetime, why her, why not me? I won’t ever get to ask her about her day again, taken away from me, why? So many unanswered questions, so many firsts taken from me, I will never get to see her walk down the isle, I will never here her laugh again, be the comforting shoulder, kiss her on the forehead as she drifts asleep. “Good choice in drink mate, it helps with the nerves on the flight hey?”. “Y-y-y-y-eeeah, I-I-I-I-I-I get nervous a lot”. His tone is seeking acceptance, Indie hated flying too. “W-W-W-W-Will invisible pp-p-p-p-lanes ever be a thing”. Puzzled, I take another sip of the stiff drink in front of me.”I-I-I-I- j-j-j-j-just can’t see them t-t-t-t-taking off”. A smile, creeps into the corner of my mouth, instinctively, I bow my head. Indie would have laughed. I press the button above me, summoning the flight attendant, do they find it demeaning to be called upon like a like a servant responding to their masters demands. “Another double vodka on the rocks” interrupted “lots of rocks”. I use to like when bartenders would remember my orders, now I’m agitated that I didn’t get to finish my request. I am easily agitated a lot, I have been for a while now. I feel like the kind and patient part of me was lowered into the ground along wth my daughters lifeless remains. The vodka hits my lips, as I close my eyes, Indies smile beams across my darkened eyelids, heavy bags under the darken holes where life use to shine out of. Ding, another vodka is placed in front of me. The unkept man, continues to stammer in my ear. I can no longer make small talk, I don’t care about his new life in Sydney, I don’t care about anything anymore, I accept I won’t be seeing the sunset over Darling Harbour tonight, I accept I won’t feel the bounce of the tyres hit the sun bleached tarmac, what does it matter. I use to find a beautiful innocence of conversations with strangers, It use to fill my spirit with joy, I no longer feel joy. I undo my seat belt and stumble down the narrow corridor, click, I unlock the bathroom door, I don’t need to use the toilet. I stare into the reflection and no longer recognise the person staring back at me. Cheekbones protruding, gaunt, a stubble covers my face, hair thin and long. Who is this man staring back at me. I reach into my pocket and take out the white cylinder. Shake, rattle and 8 white pills are in my hand, I look down, then again at this stranger in the mirror. I am not fit for the earth anymore, I too was lowered 6 feet under and yet I feel much deeper, darker. 20,000 feet in the air and I am engulfed in darkness. I crush the pills and cusp my hand. Click, I wait for the food cart to pass by before I find my seat, hand cusped. Ding, “Double vodka on the rocks, lots of rocks”. I got to finish my order this time and it brought me inner peace. Perhaps the blonde haired failed actress knew this would be my last order. Unknowingly granting my final wish, an act of kindness, an act of compassion, a fatal act. I raise the cusped hand to the plastic cup, a single bead of sweat trickle downs the side of my face, navigating the stubble, thin hair now matted in my nervousness. The clear liquid, clouded, the white powder slowly sinking. I stare, disassociating from the world surrounding me, the laughter of the child behind me, the loving presence of the couple to my left, the musk of the old man that walked past me, I stare into the cup. The slow burn into darkness will lead me further and I will no longer have to feel this pain, I can finally hold Indie in my arms again, I stare. As I lift the cup to my lips and engulf the entirety of it’s contents, I feel peace. I close my eyes for the final time and I am greeted by the warmth of Indie’s voice, “Daddy it’s not your fault, you always drank and drove, you didn’t know, I am glad you’re with me now.”
By Shaun Boticaabout a year ago in Confessions
Chocolate Coated Peanuts
Frankie started off in a happy home, cute family, happily married couple with 2 beautiful daughters. Well what appeared to be a happily married couple, the perfect household but something changed. Geoffrey the father decided to give up his addiction to chocolate coated peanuts, his obsession was apparent, they were always on his mind, the glossy finish on the chocolate domes, the hidden crunch of the peanut, it was all he wanted. First, it was on his mind, all the time, then began the cold sweats, hot flushes rushed through his body like a trophy housewife holding onto her youth going through menopause, his hands would shake. Full withdrawals kicked in and with that his mind, his emotion, his soul became withdrawn from reality. Distant, angry, brewing, day after day he thought of the chocolate coated goodness he once enjoyed, it was all on his mind. The rhetoric changed, voices became louder in his mind, “you’re wife Dolly did this “, “Dolly took the peanuts away from you”, “Dolly wants to see you in pain”, his memory clouded, this was his decision, earlier in the year Geoffrey completed a charity 24 hour fast to raise money for flood victims in the Sahara and recognised his addiction, identified it and wanted to change it. The voices became louder, shouting, screaming “DOLLY TOOK THE PEANUTS AWAY FROM YOU, DESTROY HER”! At first he ignored them, but he could not escape the voices, the peanuts, he began to see them everywhere. Geoffrey notice the peanuts in the ads on his favourite shows, random peanuts packets left in the dairy isle, laughing at him, taunting him. Until one day he came home, hands shaking, sweat groping to his back, his shirt pressed against him, it’s a cold winters eve to find Dolly with her daughters Josephine and Bindi eating chocolate peanuts, Frankie on his favourite chair watching the glamorous trio laughing while enjoying their fathers favourite snack. This was enough for Geoffrey to snap, he grabbed the kitchen knife and began slashing, left, right, left, right, Dolly’s face gushing, severed open by the gleaming silver blade now dripping in blood, Bindi screams, while Josephine finds herself shaking in a pool of her own piss, the chocolate peanuts once in her hand had fallen to the ground, now with a gloss finish from the young girls urine. Geoffrey turns and lunges forward, shoving the blade into his youngest daughter, ripping it out and slicing the neck of a girl who once filled his heart with love. Geoffrey stands there, blood dripping from his face, he had severed an artery when he took the life from Josephine's fear frozen body. Geoffrey grabs a single chocolate coated peanut, he places it in his mouth and chews slowly, savouring each moment but he feels nothing, the taste was not what it once was, with his family now dead the one thing that could bring him joy fills him with nothingness, empty, an abyss. He turns the blade to his wrist, cutting deeply vertically into his arm and watches as the blood drains from his body….
By Shaun Botica2 years ago in Horror
Yugambeh
A flicker of light hovers in the distance, alone down the dark twisting lane. Red bricks, cramped on one another brought to life by the fluorescent stains of local artists. Gleaming smiles of devilish creatures, a dark silhouette, a lost girl, face bowed, engulfed by darkness, we’re all mad here, I’m mad, You’re mad glides across the red face of the narrow lane. Sunflowers, tulips, Lilly’s, dying roses. I follow the light and find myself standing in front of an oak wooden door. Grains deeply rooted, weather bashed and faded yet powerful, immovable. Knock, Knock, Knock, the wooden panel slides to the left, rusted, jagged, darkness stares into my soul “Two roads diverged in a wood and I”, I clear my throat, and replied “I took the one less travelled by, And that has made all the difference”. A moment pass, slam, the peephole closes shut and a collection of locks begin to clink and clank. One, two, three, four, a twist, the door opens up and I am greeted by a toothless smile, “Welcome to Yugambeh, where the mind and soul come to converse, follow me sir”. My beating heart, dwindles, my trembling hand steadies as I follow the sound of the doorman steal capped boots knock along the wooden floor. Beat, drag, beat, drag, his hips are out of place, perhaps he experienced a tragic act of misfortune, perhaps a greater power chose for him to walk the earth in this manner. Portraits of this nations ancestors decorate the corridor, stone faced, a man stands beside the sign “Gleann-na-nGealt”, It means valley of the mad, the voice of the doorman echoed down the corridor as he caught my eyes staring at the portrait, the patches of matted black hairs on the back of his head always facing me. At the end of the corridor the tributary opened up into candle lit vastness. A rusted bicycle hanged upside down on the wall, beneath it sat a gluttonous creature, yellow stained finger nails curling around the the extended pipes of a hookah, a velvet green couch withstanding the immense pressure it is unwillingly exposed to. Psilocybin mushrooms penetrate through the cracks in the ground, a chandelier of antler towers over my head, candles flicker on the extensions of the once dear skulls, the wax is stagnant. I am directed to a low standing table sitting upon a hand woven rug, surrounded by misplaced cushions, flat, worn, lifeless. I sit crosslegged on a a circular mandala cushion, once vibrant now faded, I feel the energy of the thousands who have sat here before me. A tall brass tea pot and a single tea cup is laid in front of me. Tall whiskers emerge from the darkness, long and twisted at the end zealously sitting upon thin lips below sunken eyes. “speak not, for you do not converse with words at Yugambeh, this is your first pilgrimage?” I nod, however I knew the figure across from me was not requesting an answer. “for centuries one searches for meaning, meaning in the light of day, meaning in the voices of wind, meaning in the colours on the wings of bird, yet what if it is meaningless?. I open my mouth “speak not!” I am sharply reminded. “you come for answers I cannot provide but answers you will receive”. “first you must close your mind, clear what bothers you… you will not find the answers to what troubles you, you must accept the answers you receive”. A withered arm extends from the slackened sleeve as the murky brew slithers from the tall brass tea pot, rounded bottom, burnt, archaic. “Accept the answers you receive, accept the journey gifted to you, do not resist for once the journey begins one cannot cease until Yugambeh has chosen your destination” “Proceed with caution, accept the answers you receive”. I lift the elixir to my lips, pause, take a final breath before consuming the entirety of the tea cups contents. Stillness, nothingness, then the blues of my eyes roll back to white and my journey begins, I am at the mercy of Yugambeh now. My steps are light, a strap weighs down my left shoulder, I do not understand where I am going and yet I keep moving forward. I look down to my right, a bag, large ellipsoidal hanging, my hands, they are smooth, young I continue to walk forward. My surroundings are familiar, theres a sharpness in the air, a moistness in the dew of the grass lining the road. My feet stop, “is this a memory, where am I”, I wait, I know not what I am waiting for but move no further. A leafless tree hangs overhead, a brick wall once resistant to all those that met it, now crumbling. I wait… My breath is shallow, white, as are my finger tips. I hear a light patter and a gnarl, the mouth of a furious fury beast growling at me. Teeth like razors, eyes dark, brown knotted fur, the beast stalks me, circling, deep low growl projected towards me. BANG, the beast vanished as did the tree that once spied above me, a warmth sticks to my back, sweat trickles down, blood drips from the ceiling, screams besiege the depths of my skull. The wailing of a loved one, black pants, grey suspenders, white shirt, aged fedora tilted, straight brown hair beside me. The face engraved with horror, the blood continues to leak onto the floor. I sink further, surrounded by darkness, and pressure builds on my body, crushing my lungs, my bones begin to crack, I sway my arms in the darkness. Frigid movement, the sounds intensify, in the distance I see a burning and I gravitate towards it. A mound or logs, stacked in a box a white sheet atop, scorching. The sheet disintegrates a foot emerges, burning, a body crumbles under the intense heat. Mesmerised, my feet drift towards the flame, hairless, the body burns, I dive head first into the fire. I feel a warmth, an arm over my shoulder, blonde hair sways in the wind and steal blue eyes stare into mine. Laughter rings in my ears, water gently caresses against the harbour walls and I am drawn to dark bluish-grey eyes staring into mine. I stare down and the water surrounds my calfs, a dark cloud flaps in the shallows of the ocean, joyous screams circle as my back is weighed down, arms draped over my shoulders, a kiss on my neck. I turn to find myself in the sand, my feet sliding, the thousand grains comfort me while an explosion of colours bolster my existent, a light touch. The bluish eyes stare at me once again, I lean forward. Music caresses my body, dim light, she glides, beauty, rhythm her body moves freely to the melody that fills the room. I am weightless, entranced, my feet move towards the nordic goddess and I embrace her energy. The darkness diminishes as I feel her touch, I don’t want to leave, I feel safe for the first time in my existence, whole, she leans towards me and whispers “accept the answers you have received”.
By Shaun Botica2 years ago in Fiction