The Death Wrap – A Short Story

~~~ The Death Wrap ~~~

“I’m bored,” answered Daniel.

She replied, “So come with us, you won’t be bored anymore,” trying to dissuade him from caving on a Friday night.

“Ana, please, let me do what makes me comfortable,” he insisted.

“But, Da…”

“Please, Ana, please,” interrupted Daniel in frustration. 

She sighed heavily then conceded, “Whatever, do as you like, bye”.

Daniel conveys the impression of being a typical guy. Merely a single digit added to the population. A 25-year old pharmacist, recently deceased parents, no siblings, no girlfriend. He lives by himself in a tiny studio easttown. Being fairly introverted, rarely anyone gets an invitation to his sanctuary. Despite his capacity to a more luxurious residence, he’d rather distant himself from his companions to avert any unwelcomed guests. His lonely rituals have to be pursued with minimal disruptions. What rituals you shall wonder; well, this is not trivial to depict. First, after the morning wash-up, they start with a ten-to-fifteen minutes session of maintaining a mirrored eye contact with himself, during which he admires the dark void glowing off his pupils. Then, he goes through his morning existential crisis which is often less intense than the one at midnight. Afterwards, his day is interrupted by the job– the boredom trinity; patients, colleagues, and the pharmacy’s computer system. After that, he finally gets to spend some quality time with himself. He stays there doing absolutely nothing. Hours pass by and he lies there, bored at himself. “Go have fun, Daniel, get up and enjoy your youth,” you might be yelling. Well, it is not a choice. Boredom is far from being a self preference, it’s rather a destiny. By midnight, the heavy artillery turns up, and whilst already exhausted by the boredom, Daniel has to earn his sleep through combat; peace never being catered. 

“Okay bye,” he murmured while hanging up.

He then threw his phone on his single chair in frustration while catching his breath. Then out of nowhere, he grabbed a book and launched it furiously at the middle of the wall. His long scream “AaaaaaH!” covered the astonishing noise of the clock that fell and whose glass got scattered all over the apartment’s floor. He then hit his head several times with his palms trying to calm himself down, stared at the clutter he just made for several moments, and started to clean it up. The book’s cover had bent. He felt worse about the clock though, he liked it to some extent.

Next, he went to take a shower. He noticed he was still shaking, so he shut off the water, and stood facing the mirror, naked and wet. By act of habit, he gazed right at his own eyes. With a contracted forehead, the water droplets were falling quickly off his face as if they were escaping his rage, both of his eyeballs were flaming, and his breath was loud and slow. No one could explain his anger, not even himself. Was he losing it? He kept staring at the void inside himself, looking for answers, but they were not there. He was furious, or was he? I think he was just bored; it is the damned boredom. He was too bored, to the level that made him annoyed at himself being bored, which led to his unexplained rage. He preserved the eye contact with himself. He could see that he got sick of life altogether. What is this boredom? What’s that? It was out of his grasp that such a boredom density could exist. He got sick of himself– his face, his hair, his body, his urges to drink, eat, and excrete. He got sick of his breathing and its monotonicity, his heart beats and their succession. Sick of his job; it’s aimless. Sick of resting; it’s stagnant. Sick of sleeping and its necessity. Sick of sex and its authority. Sick of success and its allure. Sick of intelligence, conscious, and knowledge. Sick of himself and sick of other people. Sick of the earth, the sun, and the universe. Sick of space, time, and existence. He started to sense the time slowing down, his heart tempo was getting more cruel, every second was bombarding his head, his blood was boiling inside his veins. The moment was besieging him, his feelings were more intense than ever, he was being overwhelmed. If he surrendered to the boredom cage, his rage would have had its way with him, all the way to the end. He had to escape this moment. To run for his life. And as any evolving being on this earth, whose genes would fight for survival, whose genes would rather a bloody survival above a sea of dead children souls over its own abolition, he ran out of his apartment, it was the only way to escape his disturbed mind.

~~~ ~~ ~ ~~ ~~~

♪ The club isn't the best place to find a lover, so the bar is where I go ♪ 

Sitting at the bar counter, Daniel almost crushed his glass with his grip. That song is overplayed everywhere.

“Don’t people have another song, eh?” he conversed to the bartender who ignored him with a one-sixteenth of a fake smile.

He then gazed at his drink to swallow the rejection.

“I’m bored,” She announced to Daniel. He glimpsed towards his right and she was there, staring at him with wonder. 

“Excoi .. excuse me,” he stuttered owing to her exposed cleavage. 

“I said I’m bored,” She was glaring at him from the adjacent chair, a mid-thirties pretty lady who was too elegantly dressed to initiate a conversation with someone average like him. Her wavy black hair was falling over her brown cute face. Her dress was short, he could see her beautiful legs serpentined by a remarkably long silver and shiny leather terminated with a thin and long heels.

It took him a second to figure it out. He then opened his mouth in order to declare his disinterest when it suddenly stroke him. His eyes brightly glowed and his ears were aroused by the adrenaline rush. Daniel got an idea; an evil one.

“Well, me too,” he said with a suggestive smile while hiding the excitement.

She hence got herself closer to him, and whispered skillfully, “Do you have something on mind?” while licking her lower lips in a controlled motion with her eyes fixed at Daniel’s.

“My apartment is one block away.” He declared while pulling his wallet out.

~~~ ~~ ~ ~~ ~~~

Naturally, he was leading the way, opened the apartment door, and announced dramatically, 

“Welcome to my castle!”

She was looking around in a concealed disgust. She then glanced at him trying to infer how could he afford her. She was not surprised, she has seen it before; the wealthy guy who’s staying in a slum, and the insecure guy who’s living in a temporary luxury, which probably would lead him to homelessness. She wouldn’t care, her concern was always restrained to that single night price. In addition to a few appearance preferences, and some hygienic ones. 

She then excused Daniel to use the restroom to freshen up. He replied, “sure,” with a wide smile. His voice was cheerful, his eyes were shining, and his whole face was glowing. She felt alarmed, although it is not her first time with a weirdo. She felt something odd nevertheless, she dismissed it and went on with the usual. I pity her, she should have trusted her guts, humans have developed a peculiar sense of danger– a sort of a non-empirical sixth sense. Though it led them straight to God’s trap, it prevented many premature deaths. 

Walking out in her pink lingerie, a bit of annoyance was glimmering over her pretty face because she forgot to wear the garments which matched her shiny silver heels. That annoyance rapidly faded out when she didn’t find the client around, and her eyebrows slightly contracted in wonder. As soon as she opened her mouth to call Daniel’s name, she felt him bouncing from behind, his arms across her neck. Then with a sudden movement, with a roll of plastic wrap in his hands, he started to wrap it around her whole head over and over again. The wrap was squeezing her lips painfully while her open mouth was gasping for air. After the shock faded away, she tried to pluck the plastic off her face, but its sheer force was uncanny. She then attempted to cut through it with her long carmine fingernails; while Daniel was wrapping repetitively and hysterically until her hands got stuck as well in the many-layered plastic. She kicked him with the back of her pointy heels. Oh those sexy thighs were hiding such strong hamstrings, her kicks were damaging. Daniel’s calves were accumulating bruises that would become painful for weeks, however, the adrenaline rush was overwhelmingly– this was the first non-boring feeling he had for a long while– full of enjoyment; his face was red, his hair was bouncing drenched in sweat, his fingers were bloody, his calves were being crushed by the strong kicks that caught more enthusiasm as she felt him backing one step. Nevertheless, the kicks began to slow down and shrivel signaling the vicinity of her inevitable death.

~~~ ~~ ~ ~~ ~~~

“What is your greatest experience? It is the hour of the great contempt. The hour in which even your happiness becomes repulsive to you.” –Thus Spoke Zarathustra, by Friedrich Nietzsche

~~~ ~~ ~ ~~ ~~~

With unprecedented heart rate, Daniel threw himself on the single chair. However, something was not right; the chair was across the TV, but the main spectacle was not on the screen. He rotated the chair, and was facing the corpse. The pleasure was still incomplete, her face was covered in plastic. He got up, unwrapped the plastic, and returned to his seat. Then, though the lingerie material was pretty transparent, he noticed that he had not seen her ample bosom yet, so he went down and unhooked her bra. The scene was not perfect; she was in a terrifying shape; the lips were swelling, the whole face was bluish, and her eyes were dreadful. He got up again and flipped her over. This continued for a while until he became satisfied. He brushed her hair, placed her arms straight at her sides, took off her thong, put his preferred playlist on his home theatre speakers, poured himself a scotch on the rocks in a real glass this time, not the disposable crap he often uses, and lit a cigarette up. 

Daniel had his legs crossed, calmly smoking his second cigarette, scrutinizing her soulless black body, when he heard a buzzing. A fly just glided past his ears and started floating above the body. It first landed on the arms, a fair strong forearm did this woman have, she must have been labour working since a young age, he thought. It then flew to her tight waist, she was preserving a quite hourglass shape. “Well, a job needs its skills”, he acclaimed satirically. After that, the fly landed on her left buttcheek. Her butt was so perfect, how didn’t he notice that before; it was well round shaped and tightly maintained. The fly began its work, lifted up its front legs and its crazy sucking dance was initiated.

*Trrrn Trrn Trn .. Trrrrn Trrn Trn*

The phone started to ring disrupting the meditation and showing Ana’s picture. Daniel took the cigarette out of his mouth, sighed heavily, squashed its flame in the old plate he’s been using for that, and answered with a brief and choked: “Hey”.

“Hey,” she replied with an enthusiasm that had just been T-boned by his dull attitude.

“What’s up?” he continued in an awkward and disinterested voice.

“Uhhh .. We’re having so much fun here .. Uhhh .. *cough* .. I wish you were here”, she said in an emotional but prudent tone. I am sure she was blushing.

“Uhhh,” he was still figuring out how to respond.

“Anyway, how’s your caving going?”, she asked to dissolve the heat.

He then answered nonchalantly, “I’m bored.”

~~~ The End ~~~

~ CA, USA ~ 08/06/2017

Photo © Channeling Erik - Ho Hum, part one