From
a conversation with myself:
ME:
Fat boy!
ME:
What?
ME:
Write something!
ME:
Mmkay.
ME:
Write a bleak confusing pretentious story. Use confusing pretentious
names that you found on the Fantasy Name Generator. Make the story
about zombies in love! Bleak! Bleak!!
ME:
How can you write a pretentious story about zombies in love?
ME:
You will find a way.
Patience
She
lived by the ocean with her two dead sisters. She had forgotten her
name, which was Troptai, but she remembered the names of her sisters,
Teuphight and Thryettai. She had a husband but he was away.
On
a Thursday morning in autumn she and her sisters were in the boat. She did not go far out into the ocean, as the boat's engine
was weak. Teuphight sat in the bow with a rifle across her knees.
Thryettai lay on the bottom of the boat, staring at the gray sky. The
sea was calm, and she saw many fish swimming underneath them. From
time to time Teuphight would point her rifle at the water, at one of
the passing fish, but then she would lay it again across her knees
and sigh. When she sighed steam billowed from her mouth.
After
three hours spent drifting Troptai spoke to Teuphight.
“When
will you shoot?” she asked.
Thryettai,
still lying on the bottom of the boat, answered: “She shall not
shoot today. Many of the dead men in the water.”
Troptai
peered over the gunwale. “Oh,” she said, and covered
her mouth with her hand.
The
man swam without making waves. Around him the water lay as flat and
as calm as the water in a well.
“He
was handsome,” said Teuphight.
She
watched as the man swam to the boat, unhurried. His long gold hair
swam in the water with him. He rested his pale hand next to the
oarlock. He smiled at Thryettai, who regarded him coyly.
“She
would shoot me?” the man asked Thryettai, nodding his sodden head
toward Teuphight and her rifle.
“She
is hunting. Or fishing rather,” said Thryettai.
“Has
she caught anything?”
“No.”
“Will
she catch anything with that strange pole?”
Thryettai
tittered.
“Why
does that woman hold a skull?” the man asked Thryettai.
Troptai
moved her hand to the engine. “I believe we will leave now,” she
said. “Hold on if you would like a ride back.”
“If
you please,” said the man.
“I
would have him overnight,” said Thryettai.
“I
would have him overnight as well,” said Teuphight.
Troptai
sighed.
She
motored them back to the shore, the blonde man trailing in the water
next to them, never once asking why he could not get into the boat.
Troptai was glad that her sisters had not insisted that he ride with
them, instead of in the water with the fish. Perhaps they had sensed
that they were asking much by insisting that he stay overnight, and
were giving their sister a courtesy by not demanding that he sit in
her husband's boat. Once on the journey back, Thryettai caressed
Troptai's hand in thanks.
***
They
ate dinner. Aterward, Troptai spoke with Thryettai.
“He
is to be my husband,” said Thryettai. “I have spoken to Teuphight
and we have an agreement.”
“You
do?” asked Troptai.
“Yes.
He is with her as we speak, walking along the stone wall. He explains
this to her.”
“Does
he?”
“He
is my Philip!”
“That
is his name?”
Thryettai
giggled and slapped Troptai on the wrist. “Patience was rewarded,”
she said. “God sent me this man.”
“He
did?”
“Stop
asking me questions!” quailed Thryettai as she trotted to the
window.
They
were silent for some time. Troptai listened to the ocean, to the
smashing of the waves on the shore, and heard no more dead men in the
waves. She breathed a sigh, her breath white in the cold air.
“They
come back,” said Thryettai.
“They
do?”
Thryettai
pressed her face against the window. “And they are...they are...”
She did not finish her statement, but she sobbed and threw her body
against the window.
In
alarm Troptai walked to her sister.
“They
are hand in hand,” said Thryettai.
Troptai
held her sister, who sobbed and sobbed, until Teuphight and Philip
arrived back at the house. When they came through the kitchen door
Troptai restrained Thryettai, who became enraged and threw herself at
them.
When
Thryettai was calm, Philip spoke.
“I shall marry Teuphight,” he said.
“What
about me?” demanded Thryettai.
“Things
change.”
“They
do,” said quiet Teuphight.
“Change
it!” shouted Thryettai, grabbing Troptai's shoulders and shaking
her. “Change it change it change it!”
“I
cannot,” said Troptai.
“Why?”
“I
cannot,” she repeated.
“Aaagh!”
cried Thryettai, and threw herself toward the rifles hanging near the
door.
She
was fast with the rifle. Troptai heard the bolt thrown and a round
chambered. Philip put himself in front of Teuphight. "No!" he cried. "What are you doing?"
The
shot deafened all and the smoke filled
the air like white ghosts.
“Dear
God,” said Troptai.
"Boo hoo," said Thryettai.
Philip
looked down at the hole in his chest.
“Why?” he asked.
“I
hate you,” said quiet Teuphight.
Philip prodded at the hole with tentative hands. He sighed, then his laughter filled the room like the sound of rolling
cannonballs.
"It's not funny!" shrieked Thryettai.
“So
you would do this from passion?” he asked, swinging his blonde hair
as he tilted his head back to laugh. “You would do this?”
Thryettai
mewled and dropped the rifle. She reached her arms pathetically out
to him.
“If
you would do this – out of your love for me, out of your great love
– than I will come back to you! I will marry you!” shouted
Philip.
“Oh
God,” said Troptai.
“But,”
said Teuphight.
Philip
strode over to Thryettai. He embraced her. His golden hair covered
her head as if it were binding them together.
“I
love you!” said Philip.
And
Teuphight held the rifle. She pointed it at the back of Philip's
head.
Troptai was already out of the room, running
upstairs to get the skull.
In
her room she thought about her husband. His name had been Jeremiah.
Jeremiah stood six feet tall and weighed two hundred pounds, and he
would row them out to sea every once in awhile, so that they could
shoot fish. Thryettai and Teuphight always would be waiting for them
when they came back. Thryettai would talk to Jeremiah as they trudged
back on the sand and Teuphight would cook whatever fish they caught
in half-smiling silence as she listened to Jeremiah talk to Thryettai
and laugh as they drank a full bottle of wine together.
She
located the skull and brought it downstairs.
Philip
sat at the table, clutching his head. The gun had taken his eye and
his skull glistened through the terrible wound. Thryettai sat on the
floor, head in hands, weeping. Teuphight stood next to the door,
squeezing the rifle, causing her knuckles to shade alternately pink
and white.
“Rarely
have I encountered such passion,” said Philip.
“Are
you going to grant him what you granted us?” demanded Thryettai
through her tears. “He is my husband! He will be my husband!”
“No,”
said Troptai, and moved first to quiet Teuphight, who held the gun.
Troptai
pressed the skull to Teuphight's head. The dead sister showed no
surprise at this. She collapsed on the floor and steam flowed from
her mouth, mingling with the gunsmoke.
“No
no no don't do that to me!” cried Thryettai.
Troptai
moved across the floor, brushing against Philip's shoulder. She
leaned down to Thryettai and placed the skull against her other dead
sister's head.
Thryettai
was quiet.
Troptai
sighed. She listened to the inhale, exhale of the ocean pulsing
inward and outward across the grains of the sand. She inhaled and
exhaled and thought of Jeremy. She caressed the skull.
She
sat down next to Philip.
Philip
stared at her with his good eye. For a long while they regarded
each other.
“So,”
he said. “Will you marry me?”
She
pressed the skull to his head.
After
that, she went outside into the night. The loud sea greeted the boat
as she motored out into the darkness, churning white wake behind her.
She thought of the night that she and her husband had gone out into
the water, and he had told her of what he must do. She remembered the
tears on her face like saltwater. She remembered rowing
back alone except for the moon's reflection at her feet.
It
was not an hour before another man came to the boat.
“Hello,”
he said, his black eyes running with saltwater. “My name is Mooney
Randall.”
“Hello,
Mooney,” she said, and threw the skull off of the boat. It landed
behind Randall and sunk into the water like the reflection of a full
moon. When Randall sunk back into the water she went back to the
shore. After tying up the boat she walked the beach, hand in hand
with nobody.
Before
dawn she had forgotten her husband's name.
***
