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She is Nameless

The Brother

She pressed the razor against her skin just hard enough to draw a little blood. Such a small flimsy instrument this razor was and yet it had the power to end a life. To end her life. The frail, weak nature of humanity revealed in the moments before her death. But she didn’t do it. Just sat in the tub, the warm water soaking her legs, the razor shining just a bit in the glow from the candles. The trickle of blood dripped catching on the white suds of her bubble bath.
“Do it, her mind urged. Carve up that fucking vein, lets see what happens next.”
Her hand shook, the razor fell into the water. The headache hit like a nuclear bomb, her temples exploding in pain. Her brother was there standing in the glow, among the flickering shadows of the tiny bathroom. Her dead brother. His face half decomposed, his nails crusted in dirt from digging himself up. When he spoke it was with a wet gargle, as if all he had in his lungs was water.
“Don’t you want to join me sis? Why are you afraid, you left me so alone when I was alive, why can’t you join me in death?” Time doesn’t matter here.”
“Leave me alone!” She screamed.
“Then let go, move on.”
“Your not even here!” She rose in the tub, her skin chilling in the absence of the water. “You are a figment of my fucking imagination.”
When she saw him this denial would usually work. He would fade at her words. Tonight he grew more solid. One of his hands flashed out, gripping her around the knee. His hand made her so cold that she was burning hot, burning from the inside out.
“Maybe, he told her. But what is real is the fact that you let me die, while you live on. Coward.”
That final gurgling insult lingering in the air, he faded.

The Friend

She was on her bed naked still dripping wet as she had not toweled off. The candles still burned in the bathroom, she could see the shadows flickering in the hallway.
She wanted to get high so fucking bad that her veins were burning with the anticipation of the needle point breaking the vein. Her mind euphoric at just the thought of that moment when the drug pulsed through her. Things scurried under her skin pushing out from time to time, looking like mutant goosebumps.
God, it burned.
Headlights cut through her apartment window. Her neighbor Bob was home from the mill. She peeked through the curtains and saw that Bob’s wife was still at work. She wrapped a towel around herself, ran across the street before he even had time to unlock the door. He seemed unsurprised at her sudden appearance, a wicked grin tracing the corners of his mouth. This grin contrasted what had been handsome features ten years ago. She hated it. But she needed him now.
“Be more careful, will ya? You know that bitch lives upstairs will tell my wife if she sees you over here.” The grin grew more pronounced. “Now get that tight little ass inside.”
His dick was inside her in a matter of seconds. Bob was big, he felt so good moving and grinding on top of her.
She saw Sara standing in the corner of Bob’s bedroom. He saw nothing, just continued to pound away. Sara had been her best friend, she had known her all through high school. They had known each other even before the drugs. She had started sleeping with Sara’s boyfriend after Sara had become pregnant. They had been twenty at the time. Sara’s boyfriend had stormed out one night looking for an excuse to get away for a few hours. Sara had lost the baby because no one had been there to drive her to the hospital. She had been fucking him while that life died. Sara never forgave her.
Bob’s dick didn’t feel good anymore. He was hurting her, she thought that she might even be bleeding. It took him forever to get off, she was in tears when he finished. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
She waited for him to fall asleep before grabbing a shirt and a pair of his wife’s jeans.

The Thief

She hadn’t worried about Bob’s neighbor who was seventy-two and never at home on Friday nights. She was never at home on Fridays because she went to the cemetery to visit her late husband. Even on a brutally cold January night such as this one, she would be there bundled up, standing over his grave. With her purse on her arm. She took Bob’s truck, cursing him silently for being untrusting enough not to leave his wallet out. She crept up behind the woman in the graveyard, the moonlight spilling on the stones, the wind covering the sound of her approach. She pushed her into the snow, hearing her startled cry of surprise. She landed at the foot of her husband’s stone in a heap of snow. Her purse had been parted from her arm.

She sped down the road in the borrowed truck, the tires slipping before catching again on the snowy pavement. She was so high. Higher maybe than she had ever been before. The streetlights passed by, slowly, quickly, blurring to an orange ember that danced against the night.
She was going to kill herself. The speedometer reached eighty, this road ended in the side of a brick building. Her decision had been thought out, her choice made. This truck would smash into the building, her life ending in a grand collision. She saw the building up ahead, just a few more seconds now. She removed her hands from the wheel, they were no longer needed. Momentum would take over.
Closer, closer.
The wheels spun out, the truck flipped over. The windshield exploded, bits of glass floated at her in the slow-motion her intoxicated mind created. One or two cut but her attention was on the building that was still in front of the truck. It stopped three feet short of impact. She was still alive.
“No, she screamed. I made my fucking choice, don’t do this to me!”
For the first time in her life a voice in her mind so unlike her own answered her cries.
“It was never your choice to make.”

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This is dark, disturbing, and more than a bit nasty. So Do Not Read if you are easily offended. Addiction is not pretty and this short little story has for the moment exhausted me mentally.


  • headfux
    headfuxover 6 years ago

    what a beautiful story. great write, instant fave!

  • Thanks glad you liked

    – mtda

  • TeriLee
    TeriLeeover 6 years ago


  • Thanks Teri

    – mtda

  • Niki Rossi
    Niki Rossiover 6 years ago

    I love it honey, We are definatly powerless and this story made me rethink how powerless we really are. Thank you for writting such aqn amazing story. You are an amazing writer.
    ps you are absolutely gorgeous

  • Thank you

    – mtda

  • lianne
    lianneover 6 years ago

    Sorry – I disagree with Niki – we aren’t powerless at all – we just choose to give up our power. But… on the other hand, this is a compelling story that offers a contrasting point of view, engrossing, tremendously well written as always, Matt – the pace feels like a train on a collision course for sure!

  • Concerning death and life I believe that we are completly powerless we can not choose our time nor can we fight death when it is our time
    Niki is saying that she is powerless over what life brings I agree however i am not powerless over how i choose to react to what life brings my way if that makes sense

    – mtda

  • lianne
    lianneover 6 years ago

    I’m not sure I know quite how I feel about that statement Matt – I’ve been pondering it a while now. Yes life throws curve balls but I’m not entirely sure they are unexpected or not the consequence of something else – I just don’t know – lol. It’s one of those mysteries that puzzles human beings for all eternity. And we may BE powerless over death when our numbered days are up but modern man certainly hasn’t abdicated his efforts to have more control. Over both life and death. Experts are saying the next generation may have the ability to extend life to 150 years easily. That sounds like a lot of power to me! And Matt, uncomfortable thought or not, many people DO choose their time, don’t they?

  • No, it is only their time if it is meant to be their time this woman in my story was certain she had choose her time only to have something unexpected happen human beings may have the capability to extend mortality but if you walk out into the street and get whacked by a car its not going to matter much…
    My point about life is that we do not control what life brings curveballs or otherwise, all we can choose is how to react to what life brings…
    curveballs may very well be consequence karma whatever you choose to call it but I do not believe we can choose exactly what that consequence will be

    – mtda

  • Sticking to the tone of my story I will give you the best example I can:
    A man could walk up to me right now and offer me heroin, I have no control over the fact that he choose me to offer this drug to, however I can choose whether or not I take it…

    – mtda

  • I am sorry if my tone seems debateful these are just my beliefs I am not saying you are wrong I thank you for sparking a very thought provoking conversation and of course I am glad you took the time to read.

    – mtda

  • lianne
    lianneover 6 years ago

    I certainly didn’t mean to dispute you Matt – or suggest that I’m right and you’re wrong. I agree that we can choose how we react to what arises in our lives – I just feel that our reaction may in fact cut short the time we were meant to have. I understand that you feel some “fate” intervened in this woman’s choice – but I’m not sure that I think on the other hand that every successful suicide had simply reached the end of his/her “allotted” time. In any case, all I really meant to say is that it is a thought provoking question and one most of us wrestle with at some time or another. Often without any firm resolution – as you can see by my comment. I’m glad you are firmer in what you believe than I apparently am.

  • Oh, I’m pretty firm about my opinions on this but you should hear me ponder away at other things, your comments were very resolute and well-defined I thank you for posting them and giving me something to think on while I’m having a very slow day.

    – mtda

  • Niki Rossi
    Niki Rossiover 6 years ago

    Your welcome, honey

  • beast
    beastover 6 years ago

    great writing mtda, had me hooked from the first sentence. Brilliant stuff.

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