Bitch
Belkina stood near the bus stop in order not to approach the phone which was still occupied. It was night, white and yellow torches were lit, and a very fine and cold rain was falling. The drops seemed to bite Belkina's face, the face that gladly accepted the color of a next torch, for it had no color of its own, only the indifferent material of soft wet skin, pale like bead. Yellowish hair stuck together on Belkina's forehead, but the girl didn't screw up her eyes, offering them to the rain. She stood motionlessly near the torch with a rubbish bin under, and seemed to stare at the road, at the accidental cars that passed by, rustling in the water, every now and then.
Belkina didn't like cars. The only thing she liked in the them were the headlights, headlights that seemed to come from a different world, and that is why Belkina preferred torches - they were static sources of inhuman light. She didn't like the fact that every car was driven by a driver, sitting behind the wheel, for it made a silly deviation from moving around an unknown core; yes, Belkina believed that each movement was a rotary, so it had to have a core. It might sound dull and stupid, but the law of laws for her was the Gravitation Law, which seems logical if we take into consideration her living above the earth surface. If cars had moved without human knowledge, Belkina might have liked them, like torches, under which a man can only sit down and die, unable to break the eternal order of light processing.
Belkina dreamed of teaching mathematics at school, but only in the dark, for mathematics is a night science, at nightfall there remains nothing on earth except geometry, while sources of light add to its clarity, clarity unknown to their creators themselves, for plans of lamp dislocation is based on the laws of city relief, and the latter, being a minimum embodiment of relief in itself, displays the Law of Gravitation in its visible incarnation. Belkina dreamed of taking a group of deaf and blind children around the dark streets, and the it would be better in rainy weather, so that everything was wet, and there were pools everywhere, pools acquiring shape, oh, pools do acquire shape, who studied it, the Mathematics of Pools, and Belkina felt the clear gravity of water on the asphalt, its cold softness on its hard, solid cheek, and she was quite capable of explaining it to kids, why not?
Belkina turned her head and violently glanced at the man in the phone. When will he finish, bastard. The man stuck to the glass from the inside with his leather back, did a lot of breathing, and all the glasses misted over, he didn't speak much, but he did a lot of listening, scratching his head. Belkina turned her head and began to slowly walk off the pedwalk, spanking her knee with her bag lightly, and watching the road at her feet. In the pools at her feet there were splashes of torch lights, materializing something like TV ripples on the cold surface of water.
"Shit," whispered Belkina. "Stinky shit."
She turned round, offering her eyes to the headlight of a lorry going against her. It was impossible to distinguish the driver in the dark cabin, but the lorry took a left turn and passed by, throwing a fountain of brown splashes near Belkina.
"Get me a dog," asked Belkina. "I will exercise it, you will not. When it starts crying in the morning, I will take it to the sands. I will take it for a walk in the wet sands, thrice a day."
A fancy car moved on the middle row of the road. Belkina looked at her dirt stained boots, sighed and went to the phone. The rain blood had already penetrated her hair and was now flowing by the skin of her head, trying to get to her face. Approaching the phone, Belkina slightly knocked at the glass. The man turned to her, nodded his head but went on listening to the receiver.
"What are you listening there," asked Belkina. "My dog doesn't cry, I don't have one."
Suddenly Belkina felt very scary, because she clearly remembered all that happened to her last night, in fear she bit her lip and closed her eyes, wiping the wet glass with her hand. Presses uncomfortably against the desk, with things on it, like pencils, manuals and notebooks, she could hardly breathe, her chest ached from the hardness of the dead material, and her wrenched arm also ached, she was sick, everything was so disgusting, so nasty, that the things on the desk made it all even worse, because they couldn't help her, they couldn't save her from the terror.
"Ouch," said Belkina, shaking her head in the rain injections.
Tearing into her, painfully leaning his weight upon her, he inserted a slimy cock into her, like a big cold enema, he caught her by the hair and wrenched her head aside, pressing her cheek to the sticky surface of the desk. She was in sweat. As soon as he entered her, through all her guts, to the very throat, he threw out the semen, and it oozed down Belkina's mouth, right onto the desk, those icy snot oozed from her mouth, and out of her nose it also oozed, and she sniffed and tried to breathe, and he took it out, through all her guts, took it out and went away, leaving her lying on the desk, but he took something with him, maybe these were her gemmae?
"Ouch, ouch, ouch," said Belkina, shaking her head. The terror capitulated as suddenly as it conquered her, and she opened her eyes, still trembling. Her hand was mechanically wiping the glass, smearing raindrops all over it. Belkina cleaned her throat and knocked slightly again.
"Please, open the door," she whispered. "Let me in."
The man looked at her and nodded his head again.
"My genitals are very beautiful," Belkina went on, looking at his ill-shaven oriental face with convex lips, and showing how beautiful her genitals were with her fingers against the glass. "I didn't do that with animals, or you think I sleep with animals? It's very annoying to sleep with animals, they're scampering around all the time, they sniff you as if looking for food. I'm a virgin in the realm of bestiality - like there are anal virgins, you know. Or you think I attract dogs? I told you, I have no dog, nobody is waiting for me."
The man nodded again, but not to Belkina, whose whisper he couldn't hear through the sound-resistant glass, but to someone he was talking to and who couldn't assess his agreement. Belkina also nodded and fled, spanking her knee with her bag slightly.
"Shit," said Belkina in no voice. "Stinky shit."
She walked off very long, till she saw an evening kiosk selling bubble gums and different sweets. Belkina bought a bubble gum and began chewing it.
"Do you sell dog-food?" she said quietly to the man at the counter. "So that they don't scamper around at night."
The man shook his head, biting his lip.
"Maybe you sell cookies? I have no dog, I live alone."
"I have wine," said the man, smiling. "Want some?"
"Don't you speak to me this way!" laughed Belkina, nearly choking with her bubble-gum. "So do you have a dog of your own?"
"I have a dog," agreed the man.
"Which breed?" asked Belkina.
"Collie."
"Boy or girl?"
"Male dog."
"And what is his name?"
"Arthur."
"But this is a human name," Belkina frowned suspiciously. "You are pulling my leg, aren't you?"
"No," smiled the man. "Not at all."
"And how old is he?"
"Four years old."
"He's a grown-up," Belkina smiled sweetly. "A real dog monster."
"Listen," the face of the man approached the glass, "let us go to my place, it's not far, the next house. I'll show you my dog, we'll drink wine and chat a little."
Belkina shook her head, looking emptily into the man's eyes.
"You want to sleep with my dog, am I right?"
"No I don't."
"And I thought you wanted."
"No I don't."
"You do," said the man confidently with a narrow smile. "You want to sleep with my dog. But this will cost money."
"Money?" asked Belkina, still chewing mechanically.
"Money. Have you got any money?"
"I've got very beautiful genitals," said Belkina and showed with her hands what sort of genitals she had.
"Splendid," said the man. "It suits me. I will use your genitals and you will use my dog."
"I didn't mean it," said Belkina and broke away from the counter violently.
"Wait!" said the man quietly. "Oral, anal, together with the dog, why are you leaving?"
Belkina gave him a depressed look.
"Shit," she said. "Stinky shit."
"Dirty bitch!" squealed the man.
Belkina turned around and went away, spilling the pools with her boots. The icy rain lashed her face sadistically. Near the posters she saw a boy holding an umbrella. The boy was reading sale announcements, smoothing out the damp notes with his finger. Belkina approached him and looked at him.
"Boy, do you see any announcements with dogs for sale?" she asked. The boy looked at her curiously.
"I'm interested in large breeds only," added Belkina.
"Saint Bernard puppy for sale," read the boy lowly.
"Puppy!" Belkina cried out. "A real puppy! But Saint Bernard is way too much," her face suddenly darkened. "It's too large. I'm afraid of Saint Bernards."
"Saint Bernards aren't wicked," said the boy, still looking curiously at Belkina.
"I am wicked," said Belkina quietly. "I say, boy," she bowed to him, "I've got such beautiful genitals," she lifted her hands to his face and showed with her fingers what sort of genitals she had. "A Saint Bernard will tear them. And they are so pretty, like flowers."
"May I take a look?" asked the boy, water dripping from his umbrella upon Belkina's shoulder.
"I didn't mean it!" Belkina whispered angrily and, seizing the boys hair, kicked his face with her knee. The boy dropped his umbrella and clutched Belkina's arms, while she, planting her feet against the ground, threw him, head into posters. Unable to keep his balance, the boy fell upon the wall. Belkina at once hit his belly, then again and once again. The boy gave a roar and fell on his side, pressing legs together. Quickly looking aside, Belkina strongly stamped on his suffering face. The boy began to cry, trying to shield by his arm. With a slight aspiration Belkina jumped on him, her knees upon his small soft body, and took out of her bag a knife wrapped in a white cloth. The cloth tangled, and Belkina awkwardly pointed the knife with the cloth to the boy's throat, he wheezed and jerked, and she pushed the knife down, plunging it deeper, as if cutting a fish's gills, and she pushed till the boy moved no more. Then Belkina stood up tiredly, took the boy's hands and dragged him to the other side of the posters. The knife was still stuck in the boy's throat, and the two ends of the bloody cloth hang like a pioneer tie. On her return, Belkina picked up the umbrella, closed it and threw it into the bush.
Zipping her bag, she approached the place where the boy was once standing and started searching for the puppy announcement. Belkina's curved lips moved noiselessly as she read the deformed by many rains blocked capitals of the announcements. She didn't find anything. Fidgeting with the bag zipper, Belkina looked carefully behind the posters. On the dirty ground, covered with dog-ends and hot-dog paper, lay the boy with a knife in his throat.
"Shit," sobbed Belkina. "Stinky shit."
Original Author: Ilia Masodov 1998.