Short fiction written on the writing prompt ‘Taboo’. Day 4 of the Writer’s HQ Advent Challenge – 30 mins, no edit, here’s what I got:
Samantha made her way up towards the old barn at the top of the hill. It had been a glorious Autumn wave of colour and heat all day, and she knew her husband would be done with the work and ready for a meal. She wanted to surprise him. She’d booked them a table at a nice restaurant downtown. She’d actually rung her sister for advice which as far as she was concerned was a testament to how much she loved her husband, because her sister was a gossiping harpy.
The table was booked for 7.30 at La Rochelle, which was only a half-hour drive or so. She’d come up behind her husband, wrap her arms around his broad shoulders and hug him gently against her. He’s be pleased and surprised. Slightly sweaty, probably, and his chequered shirt would be damp from the work. He’d ask what the occasion was, like he’d forgotten their anniversary, and then turn around to kiss her. His soft lips. Maybe he’d even have a bouquet of flowers or something for her. A little gift. She smiled to herself as she skipped up the dirt track, nodding amiably to a hedgehog that scurried along the hedgerow, minding its own business. Samantha wondered what her gift from him would be. Chocolates, maybe. A poem. Something he’d written himself, in secret, and totally surprised her by showing depths she hadn’t known he had, even after fourteen years.
Samantha swung open the rusted gate in the outer road-side wall and daydreamed her way into the field where the barn was located. It was a blocky, ugly building, separated from the road by a field’s distance and with a small wooden perimiter fence around it. Samantha didn’t mind. It was where David was and she almost giggled as she rehearsed her surprised reaction to his imagined gifts.
“Oh, David, I didn’t know you cared so much…”
That’s right. A palm to the chest and a coy smile with a hint of a wink. He’d grin and embrace her for another kiss and then she’d tell him all about their meal and the clothes she’d set aside and laid out for them both.
“Wait, diamonds? Oh David, we can’t afford these!” She said, almost stopping in her tracks at her husbands fictitious opulence. “Oh, David, you say the sweetest things.”
Samantha approached the barn and saw that the doors were shut, which was odd. David must still be working inside, else she’d have seen him walking back down the hill, but it was strange for him to have pulled the great doors closed on himself. It would be dark inside. She made her way to the wooden palisade fence and hopped over the broken section that served as a style with practised ease. She made her way over to the wooden doors and heard an odd squealing. One of the pigs was in pain, grunting and yowling away. She was about to call out, but something stopped her. Some ancient impulse of curiosity pulled her from her reverie and made her peer in through the door. It was dark inside and she could barely make out a thing through the cracks in the wood. She made her way around to the other side of the barn, her boots squelching through the muddy puddles that surrounded it.
There was a small window about eight feet up set into the north wall, so she grabbed a straw bale and pulled it around to stand on. It wasn’t tall enough, so she hefted another on top of it, and then hiked up her skirts to stand on the makeshift platform. Through the window, she could hear the squealing more pronounced. It was muted and accompanied by a rhythmic grunting and a wet slapping sound. Her first thought was that David must have been delivering a litter of piglets, only that didn’t make any sense because none of their sows were due. As her eyes grew accustomed to the light, she saw movement in a corner of the barn. Most of the pigs were already away, but one was squealing out and tied to a metal grille. David was behind it, with his trousers down, furiously thrusting.
Samantha’s pained eyes captured every drop of sweat that fell from her husband’s brow, they saw his twisted lips; his powerful, muscular arms that wrapped around the swine in a cruel embrace, and his bare bottom that quivered with each forceful drive. David’s shirt was open and he bit his lip, letting out a low moan that Samantha recognised. The pigs trotters skidded on the grille and fought against the ropes, but Samantha watched as her husband grabbed the pig firmly and began the frenetic series of jerking movements that accompanied his climax. He gasped and withdrew from the animal, his tongue tasting beads of sweat from his lower lip.
Samantha withdrew from the window and hugged herself tightly. She heard her husband leading the pig over to the enclosure with the others, and thought ahead to their evening together. To the fine clothes that she’d laid out, to the meal at La Rochelle. She imgained her sister’s impossibly gleeful face controted in laughter at her pain and began to cry.
“Not again, David, not again…”
Well, so much for my promises that not everything’s dark and grim. I do write upbeat stuff, honest. Follow me for updates, or hit me up on twitter @Sellpen to tell me how terrible it all is 🙂