Lust In Translation

Written in 34:00, no editing, I got bored so ended it abruptly

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“So you don't know where you met her?”

“No.”

“And now you want to find her.”

“Yep.”

“But you know nothing about her and have no way of getting in contact with her.”

“Exactly.”

Paul looks down at the empty highball glass resting awkwardly on the coaster and takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Alright, I'm in,” he states, shaking his head emphatically.

“Yeah?”

“Why the fuck not? It'll be like one of those, you know, reality show dating things.” Paul drops the butt of his cigarette into the empty glass and swirls around the remnants of the melted ice. “You know what I mean, where you gotta pick out the right broad out of a room full of them by, you know, making 'em do things like jumping jacks and drinking contests or something.”

Andy leaned forward and stared at his friend in disbelief. “How is that even remotely close to trying to find someone I bumped into on the street?”

Paul thought about it for a couple of beats, looked around and pulled out another American Spirit. “Well, it's kind of like you're trying to, you know, filter through all the others and find that one specific person.”

“But on a dating show, they're all right there, in front of you. You're not going out trying to find someone you don't have a clue as to where they are. This isn't Sherlock Holmes on the fucking Bachlorette.”

“Bachelor.”

“Huh?”

“The Bachelor. If Sherlock Holmes was on it would be The Bachelor, not The Bachlorette. The Bachlorette would be for the chicks. Like if Irene Adler was on it would be The Bachlorette.”

Andy exhaled a breath of disbelief, closed his eyes and leaned back into the worn cushion of the booth. “How could someone so borderline retarded even possibly know who Irene Adler is?”

“What, just because I don't have the same worldly insight as you, I have no business ever picking up a book? Besides, I told you I'm here to help and you respond by basically calling me a fucking mongoloid.” Paul pulls out his wallet and tucks the remaining cigarette behind his ear. “I got my own problems you know. My life doesn't always revolve around your endless chase for 'the one',” he used his fingers to form quotation marks as if to emphasize the frequency of these endeavors.

Andy, sensing an unnecessary altercation, grabbed Paul by the rest. “Shit, sorry man, sorry. I didn't mean it and yeah I appreciate you helping me out.”

Paul hesitated for a moment and sat back down, pulling his arm away abruptly from Andy's grasp so at to prevent any further illicit stares from other customers in the dingy lounge. “Yeah, well, I admit my analogy was stupid, but still, cut that retard shit out.”

“Deal.”

“Alright, so what's the first step?”

Truth be told, Andy had absolutely no idea as to where to start. The encounter lasted a mere couple of seconds, but the effect felt everlasting. “Honestly? I don't know.”

“Well you said you ran into her. Where?”

Andy couldn't remember that small but significant detail either. The immediate influence she had over him from the brief yet awkward moment penetrated his very soul, leaving him a mindless, heartbroken zombie with every step she took further away. Before he knew it, he had walked a good mile in random directions before snapping out of his love-fueled daze. He tried valiantly to retrace his steps, acknowledge any aspect familiar with that instance where time completely stopped, but to no avail. His heart was so stricken with the thought of her that everything else within that moment failed to register in his brain. “It could have been the middle of a war zone for all I knew,” he resigned mostly to himself, sighing at the slow realization that any chance to find her had taken a severe hit from his obviously poor observational skills.

“Well,” Paul lit up his last cigarette and with his empty glass motioned over to the disinterested middle-aged waitress sitting at the bar, scribbling something on a cocktail napkin to bring another round. “last I checked we weren't really at war with anyone, and I don't remember you taking off to Iraq or Uganda or somewhere fucked up like that, so we can cross war zones off the list.” The waitress brought over fresh drinks and removed the empty glasses, barely acknowledging the existence of the two men sitting there. Paul swirled the ice around in his glass with his finger, took a thirsty gulp and clinked the glass resting in front of Andy. “See? Now we're getting somewhere.”

Andy picked up his drink and swallowed a healthy amount to help soothe the stupidity that had just invaded his ears. He couldn't help but smile over the absurd yet somehow rational argument put forth by his best friend of 17 years. The two of them met back when they were in Kindergarten and have been as close to inseparable as you could get. In fact if they weren't both always off chasing women around like they were an endangered species, it would be quite easy to assume their relationship went deeper. Paul liked his women fast and uncontrollable. He never had his heart broken and would boast about the numerous times he had women sobbing uncontrollably for him not to leave. It was not his style to let his guard down and allow himself to be vulnerable. He left that for Andy, who seems an addict for those sort of situations. He couldn't help it though, he'd always worn his heart on his sleeve. He used to admire the passion and love his parents shared even after so many years and would scoff at anyone who brazenly admitted that wasn't for them. 'To wake up next to someone you love is the greatest thing in life' he would constantly remind himself.

He finished off the rest of his drink and raised his glass to both the waitress and to Paul. “We got a long night ahead of us,” he smiled. “let's find my girl.”

Snow Falls Memories Fade

This was written, no editing, 28:15

The softening colors from the darkening sky shone bluntly though the frost covered window of Bennett's upstairs bedroom like they had done countless times before. The creaking of the roof weighed down by the burden of winter's wrath reverberated throughout the wooden cottage as if warning anything inside to be prepared.

Out front Bennett was preparing for the long drive back into town. The crunching of the unblemished snowfall covering the ground was deafening in comparison to the soft hum of the wind briskly bullying its way around the evergreen trees. He would have preferred to remain in the isolated hedonism of the small dwelling, but food supplies were running scarce and the risk of another major storm blowing through would have left him trapped for who knows how long.

“Whatever you do, never underestimate the power of nature,” his mother used to tell him when he was young. “If you respect it, it will respect you.” He never really understood that last part, but for some reason, as a small boy who looked up to and idolized his mother, those words – any words – were both soothing and reassuring.

He climbed behind the wheel of his Ford pick-up, blew a couple of heated breaths into his chilled yet sweaty hands and fished the keys out of his pocket. It had been over two weeks since he last fired her up, a mistake he always seems to make whenever he comes up here, yet has never paid the price for.

“Chug, chug..... “

He tried once more.

“Chug, chug...”

Nothing.

He put both hands on the top of the steering wheel, straightened his arms and leaned back against the worn-out seat. “There's no way I'll get a tow up here with a storm on the way,” he whispered to himself but really to no one in particular. He then proceeded to roll down his window and divert his attention towards the few flakes of snow falling auspiciously onto the white sheet surrounding the truck. Pulling the wool hat down over his ears he tried one more time.

“Chug, chug.... vrooooom.”

Exhaling a breath of relief, Bennett gently pushed down on the gas pedal and revved up the engine, mimicking the sound of a wild beast roaring triumphantly in the face of fear. He waited a a minute before taking the car out of park and commenced the long drive into what would barely be considered a town. The comfort of the light beaming proudly over the front porch began to dwindle as he drove further and further away from the clandestine property.

“Haven't seen you out here in a while,” Jim, mildly distracted from the local newsletter currently occupying his attention. “Stocking up for the storm?”

The hollow thud of each step by both men against the rickety wood planks lining the floor a constant reminder of the fragility of older buildings that somehow stood the test of time and the harshest of elements. Bennett always preferred to be reserved and detested small talk.

Returning his attention to the paper, Jim removed his glasses and continued on without waiting for a response. “Yessir. Looks like it could be a brutal one. No sense in going back wherever you're from. Gonna have to ride it out and hope the good lord watches out.”

Bennett browsed the shelves scarce with soup cans and various instant meal accompaniments. “What if I don't believe in the good lord?” He muttered loud enough to be heard but quiet enough to be misunderstood. He filled up whatever he could into the small plastic basket and continued on. Jim's face remained focused on the paper down on the counter, but his eyes glanced up directly at Bennett.

“Then you better hope the good lord believes in you.”

The cold felt colder as the darkness overtook the truck, the glow emanating from the quaint market lacking in the same comforting warmth as that from the house. The more the light faded, the more Bennett felt at ease with his surroundings, which had, at this point, worsened in terms of weather conditions. The light snow continued to meander downwards in a grace-like manner, lightly permeating the ground as if puzzle pieces falling into place.

The windshield wipers failed admirably in keeping the front window clean of any hindering snow that was now beginning to build up all around. The unknown void caused by the enclosing darkness adhered to the blinding snow made driving conditions risky at best. Bennett knew these roads inside and out, so his only worry had to do with any others on the road not so familiar. With the window rolled down, small flakes invaded the beat-up auto and landed gently on Bennett's fleece vest. The roar of the truck warning any animals in the vicinity to steer clear of the unforgiving beast.

Some ways down the road, in what felt like a never-ending tunnel of white darkness a small glimmer of light poked through the trees. Immediately the transient paranoia relented and transformed into hope. He pulled into the same spot where he had left it, the entire surface showed no evidence of his ever being there, let alone a mere hour ago. He parked, pulled the key out of the ignition and sat back, glancing out his still open window, the left side of his vest camouflaged in white. Much of the snow never made it beyond the higher branches of the trees encasing everything leaving the impression of a tent, where only a smattering of glitter managed to sneak through.

After a good ten minutes or so, the chill snapped Bennett out of his snow-drifted reverie. Grabbing his supplies and rolling up the window, he looked around.

“Good lord or no good lord...” he smiled, “this is fucking awesome.”