Shattered

Avatar Author: elvie suzuki every drop in the ocean counts - y ono Read Bio

I’m an impartial kind of guy. Granted, I prefer women — their soft lips pressing against me, the way blood-red nails rake across my sides — but I’ll take what I can get. Thinking about the way a man’s tongue flickers against my lips … it’s heaven. Call me a whore by nature. God blew us from his fingertips to be used, filled, defiled, passed around. And I relished every moment.

You know, I didn’t think I could die. Silly thought. Everyone finishes. Those close to me have been killed, even, and I was there to watch. I don’t know why I believed such a delusion. Maybe I never wanted to stop being everyone’s little bitch.

Then, one day, I crashed. Mere milliseconds. A million shards of glass. No more lush lips, no more smooth, white teeth — this I knew, and I knew that I wouldn’t have any maker to meet after the fall. There was a heady, dull burning as iced tea splashed everywhere. Seeds spit from my split lemon. My straw left a barely-there grasp.

And I stopped being everyone’s anything.

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Comments (3 so far!)

Average Reader Rating

  1. Ahfl_icon THX 0477

    Lovely and nicely wrought. Moment-in-time, if I read it correctly, as this person dies in a horrible wreck. I liked the perspective of the whore-ish person, as it’s definitely not frequently used, and you did a good job making the viewpoint authentic, convincing, and even justified.

    Nit-picking-wise, you’ve got fingertips used twice in that first paragraph, and since there are a lot of things you could go with for either use, it might pay to replace one just to avoid redundancy.

  2. Avatar InLoveWithTheSky

    Oooh, very interesting perspective. I really like how descriptive this is, and the last sentence is absolutely haunting.

  3. Avatar Elizabeth Gallenberg

    Not to denigrate the fine art of the twist ending, but you have some really lovely images (and a fantastic last line) that, to me, lose their power when the Tomato Surprise is revealed. It almost feels like a waste. I’d love to see a story where the prose gets to stand on its own instead of being a part of a longer misdirection. You have quite a way with words.

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