I got in the top ten recently with this short story. Anyone else write? Maximum 1, 500 words... let's see what we can come up with as a collection...

Buffaloes

30/Nov/2007

“I’m hungry,” bellowed Nang aggressively, his face creased with drunken anger and a million private thoughts.

Mae was silent. She knew it was best to say nothing. She warmed the food she’d made earlier - he hadn’t said when he’d be home – and placed it carefully on the floor mats where they ate.

Nang chewed noisily on the pork and shovelled handfuls of rice into his scrawny frame. He crunched the meat bones with an open mouth and spat on the floor when he’d had enough. Mae’s stomach turned. Tonight she’d sleep outside. He wouldn’t notice. There’d be no chance he’d demand anything of her body while he was in this state but she hated the stench from his beer-smelling mouth and his creeping fingers in the morning.

He’d snore loudly, like a big fat pig she thought with disgust. They’d be able to hear it in the house next door too.

He was a nasty man, twisted up with a self-hatred that he pushed onto others to make them feel weak. He, in turn, felt empowered by this. He enjoyed this more than any other feeling, apart from the one he got when he opened a brand new shiny bottle of cheap whisky. He did not respect his wife. He treated her with contempt and hit her when he was angry with himself.

There was nothing Mae could do about this rut she found herself in. She’d married him in good faith, he seemed very pleasant back then. He said he’d take care of her for the rest of her life. Her parents had approved and she had imagined their love would grow and that they’d be content. There’d be no wild passion between them but she’d hoped that wouldn’t matter and that they’d live together as if they were old friends.

Her mother, especially, liked him as he always put on a wonderful public show. In company he was witty and fun and would buy drinks for everyone before being the first to take to the stage. He sang traditional farming songs beautifully to captive audiences, and friends congratulated Mae on having such a talented and charismatic husband.

She was desperate to tell someone about the dark side of him, but she daren’t tell a soul. Once the other villagers got hold of this type of information it would be spread like monsoon rain and Nang would surely kill her for telling everyone their business. She was trapped.

The next morning, Mae got up at dawn as usual. If she was to get her chores done before sunset, she had to start now. Before bathing in the cold, outdoor washroom, she fed the two buffaloes – the families most prized possessions.

The larger of the two magnificent beasts had a sweet tooth and every morning, Mae would tease him with a clump of fresh sugar cane, waving it two and fro before finally letting him snatch it in his yellowing teeth. She had taught him one or two tricks too. As the sun started to warm the earth she would hold a stick of the juicy green cane high above her head. In frustration at not being able to get it, the buffalo would throw his huge body sideways and roll on the dusty ground like a dog until she lowered the stick and called him to come for his reward.

The buffalo made her laugh. It felt so good to laugh, to be alone with the animals and, for a moment, forget the sour-tempered monster lying in the house who would soon be awake and demanding her attention in one way or another.

Her mind wandered as she crouched, bent almost double over the thousands of green shoots she was planting in their rice field. Her feet, immersed in warm, insect infested water, were bare and itched where mosquitoes had fed on her blood. She wondered how it would feel to be in the arms of a kind, caring man who would let her be herself, let her study, let her have friends.

“Mae, Mae. I need a foot massage, I hurt my feet last night,” yelled Nang from behind the straw walls of the house.

She despised touching his leathery brown skin now. How could she enjoy touching someone who hurt and humiliated her at every available opportunity? A succession of incidents over the last three years, and real life examples of just how hideous his behaviour could get, had driven her further and further into a state of complete repulsion.

She massaged his feet reluctantly, it was better to keep the peace and perhaps he’d give her some money for cooking stuff if she got him in a good mood.

“Oooh Oooh, that is good Mae. You are a good wife indeed,” he mumbled into his blankets. She managed to dash off, saying she’d make breakfast, before he tried to pull her on top of his worn body to satisfy his morning urges. He can do it himself she thought with disgust.

“What are you doing now woman?” he questioned as he stretched himself, his reddened eyes squinting in the sunlight as he wandered lazily into the back yard.

“Oh just feeding the animals,” she replied casually. It was never a good idea to enter into dialogue with him at this time in the morning, better to be polite and distanced.

Nang was still intoxicated from the night before and he stumbled over to a milking stool to sit down and light a cigarette.

He couldn’t see Mae looking at him because of the glint of the sun. She observed the stubble on his face, the black, wiry hair on his head sticking up left and right. He didn’t care one bit whether or not he looked attractive and nice, people would have to accept him the way he is, he always said. She looked at his ancient red and white checked sarong and the way it hung, loose around his wrinkled body. She was sick of him.

The biggest buffalo nudged Mae’s waist as she knelt and stuck his soppy brown eyes in a position she was sure not to miss. She knew what he wanted. She walked to the shed and brought back a really fat piece from the best pile of sugar cane – usually kept for market day - and raised it high above her head. In the rays of sunlight that were spraying down over the entire garden, she could just make out a shadow behind the buffalo before it plunged to the ground and rolled in the dust in appreciation of its favourite treat.

All that was left to be seen of Nang, was a pair of wrinkled, brown feet sticking out from underneath the giant bulk of the buffalo. His cigarette still burning where it had fallen.

The buffalo got up. Mae stood on the cigarette end with great purpose. She handed the sugar cane to her animal and set off towards the village to tell everyone about the tragic accident. She could hardly contain the great smile that was slowly pushing its way up from the very depths of her soul.

ENDS

Fleas

Adam had'm.

The End

Great writing, Seonai.

Are the stories in here really really short...or have I missed something ?

Life

Pass by and die.

The End

Sex

Get it up or not.

The end.

Ignore the proles Seonai - I enjoyed your story.

You might be setting your sights a little high if you expect any Bedlamites to contribute to the same standard!

JxP

Ignore the proles Seonai - I enjoyed your story.

You might be setting your sights a little high if you expect any Bedlamites to contribute to the same standard!

JxP

Speak for yourself JxP! It was a great short story and I will try in time to add my own.

Ignore the proles Seonai - I enjoyed your story.

You might be setting your sights a little high if you expect any Bedlamites to contribute to the same standard!

JxP

Speak for yourself JxP! It was a great short story and I will try in time to add my own.

I will savour the anticipation.

JxP