As I was taking an indolent stroll in that lonely road, in the wee hours of freezing December, I found this glittering placard pointing towards the west with the bold letters shining red – Contemporary Arts Museum. Since the winter was more piercing, even with the fur coat dominating my feminine enclothing, I decided to give in to the warmth of the museum.
I stepped into the museum whose facade was well lit and showed signs of being operational even at this freaking hour of 2.00 am. The benignity of the lady at the counter was well expressed – graciousness personified. She smiled and gestured me to sign the entry register.
Sarah Parker. I entered my name with my cold white fingers precariously trying to hold the ball point tip pen.
‘Thank you my dear’, said the lady, ‘you may walk into to the gallery and see around’.
I was looking for a contemporary description of the arts in the hallway, but there was very little luck for me in finding such masterpieces.
The glass door opened automatically, as I walked towards the section marked ‘Realistic arts’ – Infra-Red sensor at its best use. As I was gazing through the portraits of random people, from old-age to childhood, from piteous to luscious and much more of human emotions, there was one such portrait which engulfed me into my own self.
The portrait of a young girl in her early teens with a cigarette confined elegantly in between her fingers, posing with an idiosyncratically powerful demeanor personifying my own self. There was a sudden urge to smoke and breathe-in more warmth. I saw my perpetual self in every pixel of her image. My white frock which I devoured to my eternity, still folded and secured in my closet. The shabbily unkempt blond hair was an exact facsimile of my childhood self. My first smoking experience suddenly popped up in a part of my cranial enclosure. I was such a spoilt kid back in school days and I’m fully aware of incidents that led to my banishment from the house and induction into the boarding school. I now feel that the accidental discovery of the museum on the way towards my hotel was serendipitous.
As I noticed my watch all of a sudden, which beeped, to enlighten me of the fact that, a full sixty minutes have passed at ease until now – an hourly indication setting of my digital watch which was loud enough for me to get conscious of my auditory sense, in the deadly silent gallery.
When I was walking out of the hall, I felt a soft tap on my shoulder. Appalled by the sudden encroachment of my loneliness, I turned around to find a female figure in her woolen apparels, standing right next to me. I could hear my own heartbeat as if tethered to a stethoscope.
“Hi, my name is Catherine. I’m one of the tourists in this island”
Earlier in the evening, the phone rings in the hotel.
Julia had called. I’m so happy; I’m going to meet my best friend after a long time in this vacation. Tomorrow we will be meeting for lunch or dinner.
Catherine and I walked out of the museum, as we had exchanged more than our life history in our lonely companionship in the gallery. As we crossed the road near the Brooklyn centre, she tugged herself along with me, locking fingers under her woolen gloves with mine. A sense of mutual security cropped up. We smiled at each other with our faces white and hard out of the lowering temperature. The roads were very sparsely inhabited with tourists from other countries even at this hour.
As we arrived at the street leading exactly to my hotel, I felt it would be unfair to bid her adieu in this early hour.
“Why don’t you just come in and take some rest in the hotel, if you still need to go farther?” I asked.
“Well, it’s just few streets away, I still can manage” she said with utmost concern.
“No Cathy, you should come with me. It’s already 4.00 am. You can just spend few more hours and leave around 8.00”
“Okay,” after persuading her for a hot cup of coffee when she wakes up, she accepted to spend the next few hours in my hotel.
As I changed to my night dress and slipped in to my bed, Cathy came out of the bathroom in her camisole and gave a squinting look at me, slipping into the blanket. As we were trying to drift into a deep sleep, I felt a soft cold hand in my waist; I turned around and caught her smiling at me. It’s a fortunate discovery of finding a woman of similar interest right beside you in your bed in such a remote island.
I grinned sheepishly edging towards her under the blanket and slowly slid my hands under her cotton slip, to get hold of her soft delicate breasts cupped in her padded brassiere. She slowly lowered my shoulder strip of my chemise to expose my 32C. I caressed her stiff breasts, while she held mine against her making the heaven and earth bond together. As we slipped out of our clothes completely, she spread on to me like a creeper kissing passionately, generating enough heat to burn down the earth, reaching heavenly phantasmagoria in quick succession. As she settled her crotch on my face with her moist parted labias, it was time for me to do some good to her.
As the order restored from chaos, we finally disengaged all our senses and found solace in our pillows. I took out a cigarette from my closet and ashed it in five quick minutes. The smell of the nicotine combined with her vaginal fluid settled in my lips gave an orgasmic sensation.
Cathy bid adieu to me the next morning, as if we just had coffee last night in a coffee outlet. It was almost 5 pm by the time I had finished shopping.
I checked my phone inbox to find Julia’s message. We are meeting for dinner at 7.
After an hour of chit-chat, Julia asked casually, “So have you ever heard of this Contemporary Museum?”
With the sudden mention of the museum, I got anxious, keeping my excitement and awareness meter down, I replied, “Err…no. Nice place for antiques, ugh?”
“Oh my…Sarah, you don’t know? It’s haunted with feminine souls. They suck souls from the mortals”
“No Sarah, I’ve read in this article which came last week. They conquer your soul in three ways”
“Ohh and may I know what are those?” I was totally puzzled with the details.
“First, they choose their prey”.
My phone ringed and it was a call from the ‘Museum’ and the person over the call informed, ‘Madam, we have delivered your order. Please receive it in the hotel immediately’.
I totally forgot about that. Out of excitement and to check the credibility of her statement, I hurried to my hotel, giving her of some excuse of catching-up later.
“And, secondly they make out with the chosen one, based on their preference,” she continued.
It was a startling discovery for me as incidents happened last night was unfortunately coincidental. I was totally uninterested in her tales as I found it to be a total crap. I pulled up my car in front of the hotel and barged into my room unpacking the pack of cigarettes, yanking one of them for a quick puff.
There was a knock on the door and I beckoned the room service guy in, as he entered with a large rectangular gift-pack held in his hands. Asking him to leave it on the table up right, I was suddenly inquisitive to know the third step in the death trap.
I gave a quick ring to Julia.
As I spoke to her, “Hey tell me immediately what’s the third step in the kill?” simultaneously unwrapping the delivery, she said, “Third, the souls conceal in the portraits which engulfs you in your own self” I stuttered, as I unveiled the portrait itself from the packing, which I had bought last night from the museum.
“Hello…what happened…are you there Sarah?”
As I inhaled the cigarette smoke, the same mesmerizing portrait of the little girl with a cigarette tucked in her fingers, beamingly stood in the table. As I stand there, facing the portrait, stunned by the revelation of a death trap, my senses suddenly went numb making my vision hazy, the smoke emanating from my nostrils and mouth smelled the evil mixture of her fluid with nicotine.
As I dropped down the floor with a heavy thud, I knew my end was near. As I lay on the floor, the warm red blood oozed out of my nostrils, the smell of the cigarette combined with the fluid lingered in my senses, hosting me to a final phantasmagoric journey out of the world.
Image Source: HERE
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