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Author Topic: Strawberries  (Read 150 times)

Korsavius

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Strawberries
« on: 20 Dec 2016, 02:31 »

Hello friends, this is my first story for one of my characters, Selenna 'Scarlet' Solange. You may recognize her as the main face of the Ishukone-Raata Certified News corporation, the media branch of I-RED. This tale delves a bit into her past as a famous singer in Syndicate. I hope it gives you a unique view, and I hope you enjoy the read.

Trigger warning: there is scenes which detail abuse. If these topics make you uncomfortable, then stop reading now.

Note: I have also linked a Youtube song by the lovely Julie London within the story. I'd recommend listening to it as it may contribute to your reading experience.

image source


Strawberries

The media is relentless. Like a horde of vultures circling over a withering gazelle, they hone in.

All she can do is smile and shrug. “I just don’t like strawberries, what more can I say?” Uproar. Shock. Something so trivial, and yet the press sensationalizes it.

“But they’re so delicious and sweet! There has to be a reason, surely?!”

“What he said! Plus, they are just so sultry and perfect, like you of course!”

“Yeah! Come on, tell us why?”

She forces a smile and a chuckle. She presses her glossy red lips together for a moment, and closes her eyes. An overwhelming sinking feeling grows stronger. Memories flood back in. She looks up again, using a finger to thread along a lock of her wavy scarlet hair. The media are all waiting impatiently like fat children pestering their parents for one more lollipop at the candy store.

The memories come flooding back in.

---

She looks in the mirror. She puts on a layer of her signature color lipstick - a glossy and vibrant red. She stares into the mirror for a long time once more. She’s not afraid or nervous. She loses herself by gazing into her deep, dark eyes. A voice beckons her back to reality.

“You’re on in five, Scarlet!” The gentlemen taps his watch impatiently.

“Right”, she responds.

Scarlet gets up off her seat, and takes a deep breath in. She dusts off her flowing red dress of dust that isn’t there, and walks on stage. The lights dim, and a spotlight follows her smoothly. She walks with care, and with grace. The tail of her dress follows close behind. She looks out into the darkened areas of the audience. Tables and tables are filled with men with lustful gazes. A number of waiters in black vests and black bowties cater to the gentlemen with platters of spirits and cigars. The instruments begin playing. With their cue, she begins swaying back and forth slowly. Her lips pressed close to the microphone, she belts out pure bliss to the audience that night.

Summertime,
And the livin’ is easy,
Fish are jumpin’,
And the cotton is high.


The nightclub is silent, and united in the captivation of Scarlet’s vocals.

Your daddy’s rich,
And your mom is good lookin’,
So hush little baby,
Don’t you cry.


The waiters carry about their business quietly. Their movement stirs the cigar smoke in unique wisps and patterns.

One of these mornings,
You’re gonna rise up singing,
Then spread your wings,
And fly to the sky.

The tapping sounds of artificial rain from the station’s biodome weather simulators can be heard faintly in the quiet nightclub. It adds to the ambience.

But ‘till the mornin’,
There’s nothin’ can harm you,
With mama and daddy,
Standin’ by.


Clinking and clanking can be heard as patrons exchange depleted glasses of spirits for another round, and then another round, and yet another round.

One of these mornings,
You’re gonna rise up singing,
Then spread your wings,
And fly to the sky.


A gentleman in a dark coat with a red rose threaded onto the chest pocket gazes intently at the singing angel. An overly thick layer of grease used to style his greying hair reflects the extravagant hues of red emanating from Scarlet’s presence. His right hand rests on a small velvet red box which he uses to tap his index finger on. He absorbs every lyric, and every note. Resting in front of him is a plate of his favorite snacks - strawberries. He munches on them as he continues to gaze in wonder at the red-headed beauty singing before him.

But ‘till that mornin’,
There’s nothin’ can harm you,
With mama and daddy,
Standin’ by.


Scarlet forces a smile casually, and tips her head. A round of applause and cheers sweeps through the audience.

“You boys enjoy your evening, and play safe now”, she winks playfully as she walks off the stage with confident poise. The comment leaves the audience craving for more. But she is done for tonight. Guess they’ll have to come back again next week.

As she heads back to her dressing room, a gentleman in a dark coat with a red rose threaded onto the chest pocket stands outside. He leans against the wall with a small bowl of strawberries he munches on.

“Ah”, she exclaims with a hidden resentment. “Mr. Hammeaux! How lovely it is to see you this evening.” She hugs him and gives him a kiss on the cheek, her glossy red lips leaving a faint imprint on his aging skin.

“You sang beautifully, as always, my dear”, he returns the kiss. “I brought you something...may I show you inside?” He sees her respond with a curious smile, and an eager willingness to allow him in. She feels her heart tremble nervously as he closes the door behind them.

She sits down in front of her station, and waits patiently.

“Are you ready for this?” His raspy voice enters her in an unnerving way.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, Mr. Hammeaux”, she replies with a timid voice and a smile.

“Close your eyes.”

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. Mr. Hammeaux walks uncomfortably close to her, and places his right arm around her while he uses the other to place the small velvet red box on the table. He sets down his bowl of strawberries beside it.

“Open your eyes.”

He sees her respond with elated joy, and a sparkle of happiness in her dark sultry eyes. She feels her heart beat faster.

Scarlet opens the box, and pulls out an exquisite piece of jewelry. A silver necklace with a finely sculpted amulet of morphite glowing a ruby red. He takes it and places it over her head and gently around her neck.

“Stunning. Absolutely stunning”, he whispers as he secures it around her neck.

“It is beautiful. Thank you very much, Mr. Hammeaux, I don’t know how to thank you”, says Scarlet as she places a hand on the necklace and observes it through the mirror.

“You are my best singer, Scarlet. It is the very least I can gift you for all you do for me. There’s plenty more where that came from, too, darlin’.”

They both grin and a few moments of awkward silence pass between them. He looks at her with lustful eyes. He shifts aside her dress and places his cold hands on her warm and perfect thigh. He sighs as he slowly runs his hand up her thigh. Scarlet resists the urge to push him off herself. He turns his head to her and thrusts his skull against hers, taking in whiffs of her fragrant scarlet locks. He picks up a strawberry and puts it to her glossy red lips. Without words, she opens her mouth and eats it painfully slow. He relishes in these moments, and tosses the leafy core back in the bowl.

“Yes, you are my very best singer, Scarlet, dear”, he whispers aggressively. He snaps himself away from her abruptly, and straightens himself out. He talks to her in a professional manner.

“I’ve got you booked for months here, and I’m talking with connections on other stations to spread word of you. My connections like what they see and hear. Keep it up, darlin’, you’re doing great.” With that, he leans in and kisses her on her delicate peach cheeks. He leaves a stack of kredits on her table, “use it to buy that perfume I showed you the other week. I think it’d work wonders on you, darlin’. Cya next weekend.” He closes the door gently behind him after he exits her dressing room.

She finally breathes and allows herself to tremble. She wipes a tear from her eye. She can’t fight the urge but to hyperventilate for a few minutes. She wants to rip the necklace off her neck, but she knows she can’t. She forces herself to calm down, and gets ready to hit the shops to buy the perfume Mr. Hammeaux requested. Before she leaves, she throws the bowl of strawberries in the trash with utter disgust.

---

She simply shrugs. She forces another smile. “I just don’t like strawberries.”

The flashes and crackles of snapping cameras and camera drones annoy her. She continues walking along the red carpet towards the theater where she’ll be performing tonight. A mounting dread builds up within her because she knows Mr. Hammeaux will be there. Watching. And waiting.
« Last Edit: 20 Dec 2016, 02:34 by Korsavius »
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Julianni Avala

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Re: Strawberries
« Reply #1 on: 20 Dec 2016, 09:56 »

+1! The poor dear. Beautifully written, as always!
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John Revenent

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Re: Strawberries
« Reply #2 on: 20 Dec 2016, 11:32 »

Another work for the books. Keep it up.  :cube:
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Korsavius

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Re: Strawberries
« Reply #3 on: 20 Dec 2016, 16:57 »

Thanks :3
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Stutzer

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Re: Strawberries
« Reply #4 on: 21 Dec 2016, 14:30 »

Menacing and real. Nicely done.
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