natasha short story


Banned - What an Asshat!
The life that had blossomed and grown into childhood then adolescence with nothing less than an abjective purity ripened now in its finintive adulthood, somehow still caught somewhere between youth and middleage. The finality of age was becoming more apparent as fine lines, laughlines, etched thier way across a face still innocent. There were other things that caused fear to well up inside of her, other finalities. Now was the time to marry and follow in the footsteps of all women, marry; breed; die. This theory to life grew less appealing as time spread the darker clouds across her life.

She was wearing red that day, A long, spaghetti strapped red dress with matching six-hundred dollar pumps. She had matched her lipstick as well that morning, her purpose to hide the pale accent of her lips and face. She supposed that in this time, her entire outfit could feed thousands of dying children in some third-world country, but she really did not care. Her fingernails, long brilliant red and well-manicured adjusted the white name tag pinned over her breast. The name tag said "Natasha," but she read it upside down and backwords, so to her it said "Ah, Satan."

Natasha liked the way her hair was today, sharp and glistening, pulled back into a tight bun. It left no room for flirtation nor sympathy. She did not feel sympathetic or flirtatious today. The security guard smiled and held the door open for her, she felt his eyes linger on her ass. Natasha wanted to scratch his eyes out, but she had other things to do. Her heels clicked methodically on the polished floor, sounding like small, chanting toy soldiers.

She used to play soldier as a child, and doctor. Hiding between the garage and the suburban house, similar to every other house on her block. Peter had been his name, and he had been her best friend until his parents divorced and he moved with his mom to Boston. She had other friends, many still called her thier friend. Her parents were still married, living out thier retirement somewhere in Florida, basking in the sun drinking alcoholic beverages with exotic names and playing shuffleboard. Natasha really did not care what they did, as long as they did it far from her. She hated her parents for still being married and loving. Always telling her how smart and pefect she was. She had always been smart and perfect, there was no other option for her since the day she was birthed.

"I will wear red to my funeral" She murmured under her breath, a chart of some miscellanious drivel held tight into her hands.

"Miss Natasha?" Her fat blond secretary asked, looking at her with puzzlement in her overly large blue eyes. Her hawaiian styled dress hung shapelessly around her, the cut of it ran deep into her large, jiggling bosoom. The women looked like a fat beetle hidden among bright jungle flora. "Are you alright this morning?" She gave the girl, peasant, a sharp glance, stomping into her office with a sharp set of clicks and clacks.

She was trying to remember when she had acquired her taste for cynical hatred, she had not been a hateful nor cruel child. She had not been wild nor cruel as a teenager. Since junior high she had been a model student, perfect grades, a cheerleader and volleyball player. Natasha did not remember having said a cruel word or taunting others. She simply began to feel diffedence towards the world, and hate towards those who chose to linger in it with no hope nor morality. Natasha fucking hated all of them.


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It's a very good and insightful story. Keep working on it. I'm sure it will turn out great!