“The Kill:” Chapter 2, The Maker

The Kill: Chapter 2, The Maker, A fictional piece.

I hear something, it’s not familiar, and I can’t open my eyes. I’m still spinning despite the dangle of my right leg-my remedy for staying focused. Now I’m dreaming again, everything is out of place, nothing is, as it seems. My closet is a passageway, but I’m afraid to look. The sound, it’s there again, I’m confused. “Am I dreaming? Is the rattling in my dream? I’m asking myself these questions in silence. I dream without sound. What I’m hearing is real.” I feel sick, and heavy, like my body is beneath me. I’m naked, I know, my arm is pressed against the skin of my stomach.

I’m awake now. I roll onto my back, keeping my foot grounded on the floor. Nothing, I hear nothing. I bring my fingers to my eyes to pick the black-crust from the corners. I swallow hard, my throat hurts, and my lips are cracked. I lick and chew them, I’m nervous about my new job, I still don’t know what I’ll be doing, hopefully I’ll find out more today.

I’m pretty sure I’m alone in my apartment. I didn’t hear my roommate come home last night, but I did hear something. She’s been staying at her boyfriend’s place a lot lately, which pleases me. I’m glad, now I don’t have to listen to their fighting and bodies slapping together, through the walls. I’d rather be alone than around them, she acts helpless around him, and he uses it against her, which makes her even more pathetic.

My knee is bent, exposing the soft-parts of my skin; I run my hand down the inside of my thigh, feeling the growth. I need to shave; I don’t know for sure what I’ll be wearing. During the interview, Mike said, “The Maker,” isn’t just a bar, it’s an experience, a lifestyle. We expect you to dress your part as hostess or, guide into what’s created for each individual.”

He asked for a copy of my headshot, while directing his gaze down from my face, to my torso, and down the length of my body, and asked, “What other talents do you have besides your good looks. Before I could answer, he said, “We’re looking for every man and woman’s dream; girl’s men want to possess, and who women want to be. His hands moved as he spoke. “What is your goal? Why are you here?” The question startled me. I blinked. It was forward and harsh in tone. I felt like prey, but I needed the job. I moistened my mouth and said, “I want to make a lot of money.” He grinned and nodded, “There’s money to be made. Can you start Thursday night at 6:00PM?” I struggled with my thoughts for a second, “Yes, but what exactly will I be doing? I mean I know this is a multi-sensory club, but what will my role be?

He gathered some papers together and put them in a folder. He handed it to me and said, “Come by Tuesday morning around 10:00AM for measurements.” I nodded, looking at him perplexed. He said, “I’ll introduce you to Kelly, she’ll give you the tour and answer your questions. Bring this folder back with you after filling out the paperwork. Ask for me when you get here.”
I didn’t know what else to say other than, “Thank you, I guess I’ll see you Tuesday.”

I’ve got hours before I’m supposed to be there and I still haven’t even opened the folder. I need to get dressed, grab breakfast; and take the orange-line, F- train out of Brooklyn, and get on the green –line, 6 train at Bleeker Street towards Union Square. My commute is going to take me a good 45 minutes, what I don’t get to before I leaving my apartment I’ll look over while on the train.

I hustle out of bed to start my day, however, I notice something amiss. I’m walking down the narrow hallway of our railroad shaped apartment, when I detect the shift. Something is wrong, I feel my heart, and feet go light. The knob on the front door at the other end is tilted. It is hanging on by one screw, and there’s nothing on the other side, the outside of the door, holding it in place. I press my ear against the door, nothing. I wiggle the handle, and it falls towards me on ground. I’m without a doorknob. I rush to the bathroom to get my robe. I go back to the front door and replace the handle. I listen again, silence. I try opening it by twisting while stabilizing it at the same time. I need to find out to what happened.

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About monocurious

I'm like air, forever flowing, moving, changing, gaining and losing myself, undefinable. View my complete profile
This entry was posted in Clubbing, Death, Disorders, New York City, NYC, sex, Subway's and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to “The Kill:” Chapter 2, The Maker

  1. Ken says:

    huh, thats wierd…. Love this story, you have so many twists and turns Id be reading and reading it.

  2. jeff l says:

    i am wanting more of this…..

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