Riley the Runaway Rat
- 3 years ago
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==========[ PROLOG ]==========
This is my first LitE submission.
It is a true story which I wrote almost ten years ago, about a conversation I’d had with a woman I was dating at the time. We were in our late 40s/Early 50s, and had met on match.com after I had just been divorced by my ex-wife.
There is no sex in this story, but I wanted to share it here on LitE, so I am placing it in the ‘Non-Erotic’ section (although whether or not it is erotic is subjective, but if you are looking for wanking material, you should definitely look elsewhere).
All constructive comments (whether you like or dislike the story) would be greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading,
-Rei
========[ THE STORY ]==========
‘Did I ever tell you about the time I won a rat?’
Turning away from my computer, I look at her relaxing in my recliner, and try to recall having heard this story before.
We have been together a year and a half now, and have told each other many, many stories from our lives. The deaths of parents (my father, her father and – much more recently – her mother) the decline and fall of our marriages (one each), the joys and pains of raising our children from those marriages (my son and two daughters, her son).
It is one of the strengths of our relationship, this sharing of stories. Some of them have been told over dinners at restaurants, some while walking and holding hands, some while driving, and some while ‘basking in the afterglow’ of an evening of lovemaking. They run the gamut, these stories: Funny, painful, cryptic, cliched, nostalgic, angry, hilarious. We are trying to make up for decades of not knowing each other, slowly filling in the missing pieces we each have in the picture puzzle of each other’s life.
‘A rat? No, not that I recall – and it sounds like something I’d recall’ I say, a half smile on my lips.
But her eyes weren’t focused on the here and the now and me and my half-smile, but instead on the there, the then, and – apparently – a rat.
‘It was in seventh-grade biology class. The teacher announced to the class one day that he was going to hold a contest, and that everyone had to participate. We were all supposed to come up with a name for the rat he had in the classroom. The person who came up with the best name would win the rat.’
She smiled, and arched an eyebrow at me.
Thinking I’m seeing where this is heading, I smile and arch one back at her. We do that a lot – eyebrow-arching.
‘Well, my friend and I had been in a play that year, and one of the characters in it was named Mergatroyd. I figured that would make a good name for a rat, and submitted it as my entry in the ‘contest.”
‘The next day at school, he called me into his class and told me that I had won the contest, and that the rat was mine! I couldn’t even imagine what my mother would do if I showed up at home with a rat, but it wouldn’t have been pretty.’
She shifts in the recliner, and I can tell from her eyes that the story is heading for unpleasant territory.
‘When I told the teacher that I wouldn’t be allowed to have a rat at home, he said ‘Well then, I guess I have no choice, do I?’ He took the rat out of its cage, and fed it to a big snake he had in a glass cage. He made me watch as the snake swallowed it.’
In her eyes I can see the scared kid she must have been.
‘I just stood there, not knowing what to do! When he turned and saw that I was crying, he actually laughed. He thought it was hilarious.’
Now the ‘scared-kid’ look in her eyes is replaced by the look of an angry woman.
Back in the here and now, she looks over at me, to see how I react to this. And although it happened a long time ago, I can see that it left a mark on her.
I cross over to her, shaking my head in disbelief. ‘God, what an asshole,’ I say. Not a brilliant comment, but she nods. I kneel in front of her chair, place my head on her chest, and wrap her up in my arms for a while. It just seems like the thing to do.
After a few minutes’ silence, she pats me on the back.
‘Hey.’
I raise my head. ‘Mmm-hmm?’
She takes my head in her hands, and I move so that we are face-to-face.
Smiling, she runs her finger down my nose, and to my lips. I turn and rub my cheek against her hand, and look up at her again. The smile gets bigger. ‘Thanks.’
I smile back. ‘No charge.’
It’s a little thing. The kissing of a small emotional bruise. But it fills in another small missing piece in the picture puzzle image I have of the life of this woman who has come to mean so much to me.
I get up and walk back to my chair, and the work I was doing. I turn back towards her for a moment. ‘By, the way, the teacher?’
‘Yes?’
‘What was his name?’
ReiDeBastos
May 29th, 2004
==========[ EPILOG ]==========
I wrote this story about a year after the conversation in it happened, and presented her with a printout of it.
After reading it, she told me that she was surprised that I had not only really listened to her story, but that I recalled it in such detail.
We married in 2007, on the happiest day of my life, and we recently celebrated our sixth wedding anniversary (which was also the eleventh anniversary of our first date).
And yes, we still tell each other stories. After eleven years of stories, it gets more and more difficult to come up with ones we haven’t already shared, so they almost always start with ‘Did I ever tell you about the time…’
ReiDeBastos
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IncestThelma was 22 and like all of the young women at that time was still living at home with me and our parents in rural Kent; even though she had a good job in local Department Store. I was 15 and had just left school. The summer of 1965 was particularly fine so it wasn’t uncommon for me to sit around our secluded garden reading a Detective novel when my parents were at work. The difference today was that Thelma was on the first day of her annual holidays and had joined me wearing a very...
Ethel hung by her wrists while Harry and Rob left to get some rest. She nodded off from time to time but the fog of her mind cleared she realized that other than when they punched her she actually enjoyed the way they that fucked her so hard and so brutally. She enjoyed the helpless feeling as they ravaged her body. She believed that she could talk to the two men and they would release her without too much more abuse. She was wrong.As Harry and Rob drove back out to the warehouse they talked...
Ethel hated her name. She was born during the tenure of I Love Lucy. The beloved Ethel Mertz from the television show was the bane of the real life Ethel's existence. There were the jokes about her having to marry Fred. There was only one Fred in her high school class. He wasn't her type; not even if he was the last man on earth. Ethel was every bit the epitome of her name. At five feet even her looks, dress and vocabulary mimicked the character she despised. Although she fought to break the...
Ethel's Pa was telling a story. "A man comes into the garage wanting a new horn for his Dodge. The old bulb was torn. Well, we have horns; but they don't fit his brackets..." "What did he want with a horn?" Ma asked. "Dodge cars don't need them. They have 'Dodge, Brothers' written clearly on the front." "Oh, Nellie," Pa said, but -- at least -- he dropped the story. Ethel couldn't decide which was worse, Ma's jokes or Pa's stories. Pa was fascinated by anything mechanical,...
Damn Katherine and her classy fashion sense... Once again my Mother-in-law had a new skirt suit which would work for brunch, mother-of-the-bride or some other fancy occasion, it was simply lovely. Tonight was one of those other occasions. The suit was perfect for the work awards dinner that my wife Veronica has dragged me too. Katherine, on the other hand, who was looking just so, was all too happy to attend. Katherine's suit is simply irresistible to me. The color, the style,...
"Reparations," said the Man in the Shadows. The way he spoke, so cool, so calm... it brought a chill down Nick Martin's spine. At 6-2, 250, Nick was a big guy, and just five years removed from being a pretty decent Division III college football linebacker. This person he was looking at... must have been going on 50 and was 170 pounds, tops. "Why," he thought, "am I just standing here... scared to death?" In truth, fear had nothing to do with it. Nick's drink had been spiked with...
Let me say right up front that Gunther was definitely not a young man.I knew he had been around the Santa operation at the North Pole long before I arrived with my bright ideas for cost reduction. I was called in to promote increased toy production by the easily distracted Elves. Those little imps preferred being silly rather than busy little workers focused on their quotas like dedicated employees. As a small-sized human male, I was able to relate easily to the female Elves because they liked...
Fantasy & Sci-Fifrom my supernatural~romantic novel set in Regency England from the diary of Betsy Corning, Darlington, England, September 1815 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I am undone! I have given into temptation and trod the left-hand path. I did not tarry there long, I yet have a semblance of a conscience. But little good will it do me – I will be punished for it sooner or later. But oh, should any ladies read this, perhaps you, at least, will understand what provocation I had endured and grant me some...
Fervour of the Past VI: Conglomerate by Tegeli CHAPTER 1 In the full view from our house, the Jaan troops took control over the dig site. Bemariq secluded himself in his study. On his rare forays out, he barely said a word to me and certainly never glanced out from the window. My husband only came out to go post letters, to attend meetings the Heva and for long solitary walks in the hills above. He cooked nothing and never touched anything I prepared. Honeydew and drink were...