"Vengeance" by Alessandra Salisbury
A ray of sunlight fell into the little white, glistening, frozen desert and illuminated it with a cold and dazzling flame. No living thing appeared among this ocean of mountains. There was no motion in this immeasurable solitude and no noise disturbed the profound silence. Until she came in.
She dragged herself naked through the thick white snow. She couldn’t bear being different anymore. She had enough of the sickening looks and comments around town. There she was. Alone. About to take her life. Inch by inch of her strange body was getting frozen. Glossy icing hid her members. Purple lips. Blue eyes stuck shut by tiny pieces of ice. Her body was covered by snow. She looked at the ray of sunshine for the last time and thought she would be finally free. Until a car approached. Windows and bonnet plastered in white ice frosting. She could hardly see through the tiny corner of her eye that the car stopped. A man coated in warm wool jacket ran towards her unmoving body with a blanket in his hands.
“God! What are you doing down here? Are you out of your mind?” he said heaving the blanket around her body.
She wouldn’t respond. He got down on his knees and checked if she was alive. He felt a pulse. He pulled her out of the snow paddle, picked her up, and took her into his car. He turned the heater on and started rubbing her limbs, warming up her body. Breaking up pieces of ice melted on the blanket. The man kept rubbing her body. His hands accidentally touched her deformed genital part. He pulled the blanket of her and saw a snake-like member embracing itself and hiding back inside her vagina.
“Holly God! Instantly, he pushed her body over to the other side of the seat.
“What kind of a freak are you? What am I going to do?”
He couldn’t just leave her there to die. He could save her instead.
Next morning she had her hands and legs craved on a huge timber cross in the middle of the town’s plaza church. She was alive, scared. Her strange malformed member was stretched out of her vagina and tied and tangled around her legs for everyone to see or touch if they were courageous enough. She screamed in horrible pain as the member should be left inside her body to only come out by sexual stimulation. She was stuck on that cross to death, against her will. People stared, talked, and laughed. No one felt her pain or yelled in her favour. The whole town attended to the public demonstration in the church.
“It’s time!” the town reverend yelled.
“Yeah!” People yelled back in awe.
“Who wants to volunteer?” the man asked.
“Me!” A bunch of people yelled back to him.
“You!” the man pointed out another man.
The man stepped in, proudly. His face was framed in an evil smile. His red eyes denied he had been drinking all day.
“Oh thanks man! I’m going to bash the hell of her.” He said holding the whip, facing the audience.
The sound of her screams echoed through the streets and to the sky. People clapped and cheered. Every lash sent her closer to the end. The end of a life of hidden feelings, embarrassment, and disgrace.
Eventually, she was dead. And finally free.
The day after, the people of the town were about their ordinary lives. Kids running, skipping and hopping around the plaza. Women shopping for groceries and treats at the local supermarket, fresh bread at the bakery, and new clothes at the fashion store. Men driving to work. Other men drinking at the local bar. Older ladies meeting at the church. The town was happy and guilt-free. Everything seemed normal, until she came back.
Late that night, she walked creepily in the town alleyways, in white nighties, carrying a big machete. She had incredibly healed and her strange member no longer belonged to her body. She was mad for revenge.
First house. The big white one on the corner of the plaza with the bakery street. The man who had first found her on the snow field was sleeping with his wife on a double bed under a cosy light blue doona. His snores echoed through the window when she opened. She stool still beside his bed side table. His belly moved up and down while he breathed. The machete met his neck, almost cutting his head off. While he bled to death, his wife screamed, but it didn’t last long. With a major hit on the centre of her abdomen, she slowly clogged her sound. The mad woman wiped clean the machete on the bed sheets and left the same way she came in.
House two. The light brown across the plaza on the corner of the pharmacy. The drunk man who volunteered to beat her to death was sleeping with two younger girlfriends on his queen size bed. She unhurriedly entered his bedroom window and stood still beside his bedside table. Firstly she cut his two hands at once while they rested on his chest. Then she expurgated his both legs just by his groins. The two women, now awake and in desperation, also played their part in the scene. One strike in the middle of the forehead for the girl on the right while the girl on the left tried to escape without any luck. A strike from behind, on the back of her head, stopped her from running. The man on the bed and his girlfriends were left bleeding to death while she climbed back the window.
That night was only the start of her cold revenge. The town was tagged forever. She had a hit list. She lived at the church during the day and killed at night. No one would see her. But she could see everyone.
There was no way out. She wanted revenge. And she had it.
She dragged herself naked through the thick white snow. She couldn’t bear being different anymore. She had enough of the sickening looks and comments around town. There she was. Alone. About to take her life. Inch by inch of her strange body was getting frozen. Glossy icing hid her members. Purple lips. Blue eyes stuck shut by tiny pieces of ice. Her body was covered by snow. She looked at the ray of sunshine for the last time and thought she would be finally free. Until a car approached. Windows and bonnet plastered in white ice frosting. She could hardly see through the tiny corner of her eye that the car stopped. A man coated in warm wool jacket ran towards her unmoving body with a blanket in his hands.
“God! What are you doing down here? Are you out of your mind?” he said heaving the blanket around her body.
She wouldn’t respond. He got down on his knees and checked if she was alive. He felt a pulse. He pulled her out of the snow paddle, picked her up, and took her into his car. He turned the heater on and started rubbing her limbs, warming up her body. Breaking up pieces of ice melted on the blanket. The man kept rubbing her body. His hands accidentally touched her deformed genital part. He pulled the blanket of her and saw a snake-like member embracing itself and hiding back inside her vagina.
“Holly God! Instantly, he pushed her body over to the other side of the seat.
“What kind of a freak are you? What am I going to do?”
He couldn’t just leave her there to die. He could save her instead.
Next morning she had her hands and legs craved on a huge timber cross in the middle of the town’s plaza church. She was alive, scared. Her strange malformed member was stretched out of her vagina and tied and tangled around her legs for everyone to see or touch if they were courageous enough. She screamed in horrible pain as the member should be left inside her body to only come out by sexual stimulation. She was stuck on that cross to death, against her will. People stared, talked, and laughed. No one felt her pain or yelled in her favour. The whole town attended to the public demonstration in the church.
“It’s time!” the town reverend yelled.
“Yeah!” People yelled back in awe.
“Who wants to volunteer?” the man asked.
“Me!” A bunch of people yelled back to him.
“You!” the man pointed out another man.
The man stepped in, proudly. His face was framed in an evil smile. His red eyes denied he had been drinking all day.
“Oh thanks man! I’m going to bash the hell of her.” He said holding the whip, facing the audience.
The sound of her screams echoed through the streets and to the sky. People clapped and cheered. Every lash sent her closer to the end. The end of a life of hidden feelings, embarrassment, and disgrace.
Eventually, she was dead. And finally free.
The day after, the people of the town were about their ordinary lives. Kids running, skipping and hopping around the plaza. Women shopping for groceries and treats at the local supermarket, fresh bread at the bakery, and new clothes at the fashion store. Men driving to work. Other men drinking at the local bar. Older ladies meeting at the church. The town was happy and guilt-free. Everything seemed normal, until she came back.
Late that night, she walked creepily in the town alleyways, in white nighties, carrying a big machete. She had incredibly healed and her strange member no longer belonged to her body. She was mad for revenge.
First house. The big white one on the corner of the plaza with the bakery street. The man who had first found her on the snow field was sleeping with his wife on a double bed under a cosy light blue doona. His snores echoed through the window when she opened. She stool still beside his bed side table. His belly moved up and down while he breathed. The machete met his neck, almost cutting his head off. While he bled to death, his wife screamed, but it didn’t last long. With a major hit on the centre of her abdomen, she slowly clogged her sound. The mad woman wiped clean the machete on the bed sheets and left the same way she came in.
House two. The light brown across the plaza on the corner of the pharmacy. The drunk man who volunteered to beat her to death was sleeping with two younger girlfriends on his queen size bed. She unhurriedly entered his bedroom window and stood still beside his bedside table. Firstly she cut his two hands at once while they rested on his chest. Then she expurgated his both legs just by his groins. The two women, now awake and in desperation, also played their part in the scene. One strike in the middle of the forehead for the girl on the right while the girl on the left tried to escape without any luck. A strike from behind, on the back of her head, stopped her from running. The man on the bed and his girlfriends were left bleeding to death while she climbed back the window.
That night was only the start of her cold revenge. The town was tagged forever. She had a hit list. She lived at the church during the day and killed at night. No one would see her. But she could see everyone.
There was no way out. She wanted revenge. And she had it.
Alessandra Salisbury is a Brazilian creative writer and actress. She lives in Australia with her husband and their daughter Isabella who was the inspiration for Alessandra’s first published kids book Naughty Nana. She won third prize in 2016 Fusion Poetry Competition at Australia Southern Cross University with her poem ‘Hummus and Herbs’ about family of immigrants, and won second prize with the same poem at Wilda Morris Poetry Challenge 2017. Her works appeared on the American literary magazines, Anti-Heroin Chic, The Borfski Press, Seethingograhy, BlogNostics and OPA Anthology of Contemporary Women’s Poetry. In Australia, her works appeared on Northerly Magazine.