Short Story: Cherry Soda 3
I’ve never been cut out for civilized society. My appetites are just too strong.
I was pleasantly surprised when Thaddeus Thomas of the Literary Salon reached out to ask if I would be interested in letting him critique my short story, Cherry Soda.
Feedback is so important to grow as a writer but good feedback is hard to find (especially for free). I am really happy with the final version.
You can read the second draft as well as my original post before Thaddeus posts his critique on Monday.
Becky froze as everyone turned and stared. She’d made a loud slurping noise while finishing the last of her cherry soda. She hadn’t meant to; it was a force of habit.
She was about to apologize when a loud gurgling noise broke the silence. She blushed. The other girls grimaced and the boys wrinkled their noses like she smelled bad.
Conversation started up again, and she wasn’t part of it.
Desperate not to stay home on a Saturday night, she’d accepted an invitation to eat out that was offered out of pity. She’d drifted away from her childhood friends over the years, yet kept hanging on, begging for their scraps, hoping something would change, somehow.
Sally, Jenny and Mary-Sue. They were all thin and pretty and looked great in the latest fashions. Each of them had a boy seated next to them. Becky was sitting alone in the corner of the booth.
Jenny was the prettiest. The cherry soda they were drinking had stained her lips red. Mike had his arm around her. Becky used to have a crush on him, and once he found out, he’d terrorized her, humiliating her every chance he got.
The waiter brought their orders. Burgers and chips. The smell of it made her mouth water, and she feared her stomach would betray her again. No matter how much she ate, she always felt hungry. It made it so hard to lose weight. She hoped the food would settle her stomach.
She picked up her burger and opened her mouth wide. Someone made an “oink” sound.
“Are you sure you want to be eating that?” Mike asked. “We might have to roll you out of here.”
Jenny gasped and swatted his arm. Becky could feel the heat build in her cheeks and tears prick the back of her eyes.
To hell with this.
She shot up and headed towards the exit. Laughter followed her.
“Come on, you’re always complaining about her…”
She broke into a run, not wanting to hear any more. Cool, night air brushed her wet face as she burst through the doors. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed.
Her stomach growled again, like a hole sucking on her insides. She wanted food so bad.
She hated herself so much. A fat loser without any friends.
I’m disgusting.
“Scuse me, miss. Are you all right?”
She startled at the voice. It sounded like an 80 year old man who’d smoked twenty packs a day from birth.
A young man emerged from the shadows, sporting a leather jacket and a goatee. Thick curls sprang wildly from underneath a poor boy cap, reminding her of a lion. He smelled of tobacco and motor oil.
Not the kind of man she should be talking to. The street was empty. Her heart beat faster.
“Sure, I’m fine,” she muttered and wiped her tears.
“Oh sorry, I should have known you were crying tears of joy.”
She didn’t have anything to say to that. He took out a pack of cigarettes from his jean pocket.
“I saw what happened. Great friends you’ve got there.”
“Well, I guess they aren’t really my friends. What’s it to you?”
“No one deserves to be treated that way.”
Tears welled up again. She blinked and looked away. Her head swam and the ground felt unsteady beneath her.
“You sure you’re all right? You look a little pale.”
“I think my blood sugar is crashing.”
“You need to get some food in you. Want a lift?” He inclined his head towards a Harley Davidson parked a few feet away.
She struggled to come up with the right words, so he’d leave her alone. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool and she couldn’t think properly.
“Thanks, but I’d probably fall off.”
She took two steps and stumbled.
“Woah, you okay there?”
“I’m a little woozy.”
“I don’t like letting you go off into the street like this. Let me walk with you a bit.”
Maybe he was dangerous; maybe she would collapse in the road on the way home. She didn’t know anymore. She was too hungry and tired and faint to argue.
“All right.”
They walked in silence. The dizziness faded, but her thoughts were still covered in a thick blanket.
“I never got your name,” she said, trying to regain focus. “I’m Becky.”
“You can call me Steve.”
“You part of a biker gang?”
“A gang? No way. I ride solo. I’m a lone wolf.”
“So what do you do for a living?”
“I don’t do anything for a living, I just live. Each morning, I get on my bike and go wherever the road takes me. I sleep under the stars. I do whatever I want.”
“I think I might envy you. It sounds so free. Still, it must be a hard life, on the streets.”
“Not for me.”
The moon ducked in and out behind the oak trees as they reached the suburbs. Closer to food. There was leftover chicken, and ice cream in the freezer, and Cheez Whiz…
“Don’t you ever get lonely though?” she asked.
He took a drag from his cigarette.
“Sure, course I do. But it’s better this way. Safer for people to stay away from me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I’ve never been cut out for civilized society. My appetites are just too strong. I’ve tried to fight them, truly I have. But I always lose.”
She supposed he was talking about alcohol or drugs. Or women? Who was she to judge.
“I might become a lone wolf too. People are mean and fake. Who needs ‘em.”
“Good for you. With enemies like those, who needs friends, right?”
She glanced away, smiling. Then stopped walking.
“Well, here we are.”
“Is there someone home to look after you?”
“Yeah.” She nodded.
“I just want to say, those boys are fools. I think you’re swell. I like a girl with some meat on her bones.”
She forced a smile and felt exposed, like she was naked. What had she been thinking? She’d led him right to her home.
“Well… Good night then. Thanks for walking with me”
He flicked his half-finished cigarette to the pavement and stomped on it.
“Good night Becky. It was real nice talking to you.”
She took several steps backward, turned towards the house. Picked up her pace. Broke into a run.
Arms like steel bars locked around her, pulled her to the ground. Fangs glinted in the moonlight. Then the sting, just above her collarbone.
She tried to fight, but it was like trying to lift a truck. Tried to scream, but had no breath.
Hot blood trickled down her chest. The last thing she saw before she closed her eyes was the safety of her house a few feet away.
There was no pain when she opened her eyes. In fact, she felt good. She sat up, touched her neck. There was no wound, just congealed blood.
He was still there, watching her.
She leapt onto her feet like a cat. Everything felt wrong, looked wrong. Too bright, like daytime, but the moon was still out.
“Woah, calm down. I’m not going to hurt you… anymore.”
“What did you do to me?”
“I made you better. Set you free.”
She held her hands out in front of her. She could see every ridge on her fingertips in extreme detail. She could see the veins of a leaf half a mile away. She could hear the sounds of dozens of tiny animals burrowing, climbing, breathing, their little hearts beating so fast.
The blood throbbing.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Different. Amazing.”
He grinned like a wolf on the hunt.
“It does feel great, don’t it. Like the scales have finally fallen from your eyes.”
She felt something else. Hunger. Her whole body ached. It was no longer burgers and chips she was craving.
“Why? Why didn’t you just… kill me?”
“I almost did. You tasted so sweet, like cherry soda. But I like you, I guess. I didn’t realize how lonely I was until I saw you sitting there in that diner, fighting a hunger you could never satisfy. I know what that’s like.”
Her hunger was worse than ever. Her body shook with an overwhelming urge.
“That doesn’t give you the right…”
“See, the thing about me is, I’m no better than any animal. Rights don’t come into it. I told you I have appetites. You have appetites too, though you try to hide it.”
“I am hungry. I mean really hungry. It hurts.”
“I know it does. You need to eat.”
“You mean…”
“Why don’t we go find those not-friends of yours.”