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Goody-Two-ShoesBy Sharon Bell BuchbinderSUMMER 2005 EXCEPTIONAL VERY SHORT STORY CONTEST WINNER - HONORABLE MENTION |
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He loves me,” a blue-eyed girl said to the mirror with each snip of the scissors to her shoulder length blonde hair. She wore a long white dress, a pearl necklace with matching earrings and her graceful hands were soft and manicured. Two tall white tapers burned on either side of the dressing table in the darkened room, bathing her in a warm glow. “ He loves you NOT,” said a brown-eyed girl as she twirled spikes into the purple nimbus on her head. Her eyes were edged with heavy black liner and her ears looked like pincushions. She wore a black leather mini-skirt and her black stockings had gaping holes and runs in them. Tattoos of red roses intertwined with barbwire peeked out of her low cut black top. She stuck her tongue out at the blonde in the mirror and a stud glinted in the reflection. “ He loves ME,” the blonde said through gritted teeth, chopping at her bangs with the razor sharp shears “ He loves you NOT,” the other girl said twisting around, yanking her skirt up and pulling her stockings down to display a flaming skull tattoo on her right buttock. “He prefers bad girls. You’re too much of a goody two-shoes for him. That should be your name instead of Janice. Goody. Goody-Goody-Two-Shoes.” “ Someone has to balance out the family.” She put the scissors down and tossed her hair like she was auditioning for a shampoo commercial. “Maybe we should call you Catherine-The-Not-So-Great.” “ Don’t you ever get tired of being perfect? You’re not normal,” she said. “You’re a freak. I can’t believe you’re my sister, much less my twin.” “ Fraternal twin,” she corrected and applied bright red lipstick to her pouting lips. She kissed the air and said, “I abide by the rules. You should try it sometime. If you stopped whining and listened to me, you wouldn’t be in this predicament.” “It’s your fault. Why can’t you mind your own business, and get a life, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes?” “ You are my business. I’m your older sister. What you do reflects on our entire family and our good name. You’ve gone too far, young lady. This time you have to pay the price. It’s for your own good.” “ You’re only older than me by five minutes. I’m sick of you snitching on me and getting me in trouble with Mom and Dad. Not to mention teachers.” A cigarette materialized in her hands. “ You brought it on yourself. The wages of sin, little sister.” “ You are such a bitch!” She gave her sister the finger in the mirror and said, “I hope all your hair falls out, you holier-than-thou-bitch!” She lit the cigarette and blew smoke at her sister. “He loves you NOT.” “ He loves ME. And put that out. Those things will kill you.” “ Like you care. He loves you NOT.” She stuck out her tongue. “ Mind your tongue, Catherine.” “ Fuck YOU! He loves you NOT.” An inch of ash fell off her cigarette. “ NOW look what you’ve done!” Janice whirled on her seat. “Where’d you go?” She stood and looked around the room. Smoke rose from an ashtray on a nightstand. “ Oh, there you are.” She walked to the foot of the four-poster bed. “Why don’t we just ask him which of us he loves? It’s time for you to decide, Bobby. Do you love me? Or do you love me not?” She waited for an answer. “ Catherine, maybe you should ask him, he doesn’t seem to be talking.” No answer. “ Well, then, since neither of you is speaking, I’m forced to take the matter into my own hands.” She lifted a red metal can and splashed its contents across the bed. “ Any questions, Catherine? Any answers, Bobby?” Silence. “ Let’s see how you respond to this.” She dropped the smoldering cigarette on the bedclothes. “ No screams? No begging? What’s the matter, you two? Cat got your tongue?” She laughed like a clucking chicken. Two bodies lay on the bed, wide-eyed, naked, and splattered with congealing blood. Each held a long, dark pink object. In one, a silver ball winked in the firelight. As the hungry flames flickered higher and the smoke rose in the air, no pleas for mercy were heard. “ I told you those things would kill you.” |
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| ABOUT THE AUTHOR Sharon Bell Buchbinder, RN, PhD is a Professor in the Department of Health Science at Towson University, Towson, Maryland and her credentials and publications can be found at http://www.towson.edu/users/buch. When not attempting to make students and colleagues laugh, she can be found fishing, golfing, walking her dog, playing with her cats, or working on short stories and Moral Inventory, the sequel to her full-length mystery, An Unrecovered Woman. She and her husband, Dale live in Baltimore, Maryland and have one grown up son, Joshua, who is majoring in English. | |