Stephen King's Box

by Claudio Hernández

  Richard had a short beard and his hair was a little bit long but it always was combed to the back and ended in a little tail. He had reddish cheeks and small brown eyes. It was clear that he didn’t stand out because of his eyes. He wore an executive suit to look important. His trousers were short. He had a small car dealership that gave him enough money but he spent it all on fat, ugly whores. He was married to Rachel, a rickety woman with short dark hair who always lived with depression and with anxiolytics. He continued to stare at the girls as she leaned back in her seat.

  Her body was a mass of curves like the road leading to the summit of the Rockies. A hip-shaped guitar set with the longest legs he had ever seen. Perfect in symmetry and tight thighs. Her wasp wais showed a perfect belly button with a piercing on it. Her breasts were lush, round, dense and marked her nipples. Her neck was long and was covered by a thin pink skin. She was dressed n a red dress, made up of two parts, although tied together by a smooth silk cloth, but which left the waist uncovered. And she wore red high heels.

  Richard had a slight erection. But not tonight. That night, she was not for him.

  2

  Richard went back to the bar the next day, with the same executive grey suit and the same cologne. She was there too, but now she wore a long and tight blue dress with a long neckline. This time, her lips shone with pink. And her green eyes spotted Richard’s face in the distance. She got up and walked towards him moving her hips.

  ‘Hello,’ she said narrowly.

  Richard felt his heart racing under the big plate of fat he had on his chest and started to sweat. After a long and awkward silence, he could speak. He was fascinated and his eyes were betraying him.

  ‘He...hello...’

  ‘I’ve been watching you and I noticed that you won’t stop looking at me,’ and she shaped her lips as a big heart.

  ‘No way! I was looking at the bartender. Have you seen how he prepares the cocktails?’

  ‘Yeah, sure you did...’ and she bended towards him, showing that her neckline improved her breasts.

  ‘It’s true...’

  ‘And I believe you,’ then, she took a seat next to him. ‘May I?’

  ‘Of course!’ he said without hesitating and then added, ‘You’re welcome Miss...?’

  ‘Sheyla,’ answered rapidly.

  ‘Uhmm. That doesn’t sound like you are from here, are you?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘I’m from Mexico,’ explained her. ‘But I’ve been living here for more than twenty years.’

  Richard looked at her again, this time to convince himself that the girl must be around twenty years old. So, either she was lying or she was, at least, twenty two or twenty three years old. That didn’t matter, she was the A girl for him and she made the first move.

  ‘That’s why you don’t have an accent,’ explained Richard smiling a little bit.

  She moved in her seat.

  There was another long silence and then, she spoke again.

  ‘Are you married?’

  Richard almost choked on his whisky. His throat sore a little.

  ‘No! Of course not!’ he answered as quickly as he could and smiled widely.

  She shook her head again and closed her eyes for a moment. “He’s lying” she thought.

  ‘Me neither,’ she said showing that lovely smile again that marked two little holes on her cheeks.

  ‘We’re both free,’ was the only thing Richard could say. He was so excited.

  ‘Would you like to spend the night with me?’ she asked enhancing her breast.

  ‘Wow! You sure like to go fast, don’t you?’ and he laughed a little taking a a hand to his mouth; he had one tooth missing and didn’t want her to noticed it.

  ‘We are grown ups, aren’t we?

  ‘What? Oh yes, of course.’

  ‘Your treat?’

  Richard went cloudy, as if he had suddenly lost consciousness or something. His smile faded little by little, not out of anger but out of inertia. Then the brightness returned in his face. His eyes widened at the sight of the line between her breasts.

  ‘Well, of course. What are you having?’

  ‘Champagne,’ she said and the holes appeared on her cheeks again.

  Richard looked away from her neckline and called a waitress that was near them, cleaning one of the tables.

  ‘Waitress! Please!’ he lifted an arm to indicate it was him who was calling. The brunette waitress looked at him and lifted her chin to make him noticed that she was ready to listen. ‘Champagne for the lady, please.’

  The A girl smiled at Richard. The waitress put the cloth in the pocket of her uniform and went to the bar, where there was a bartender waiting for her on the other side.

  ‘Champagne.’

  Richard understood and called the waitress again, this time he raised his voice. The music playing on the background was low.

  ‘French champagne!’

  The waitress, with a pitiful face and wrinkled forehead, made a gesture with her head.

  ‘I love it, said the A girl and crossed her legs. Richard noticed who his penis was throbbing inside his pants. ‘I just drink champagne.’

  And Richard nodded his head.

  3

  After two bottles of French champagne and some glasses of whisky for him, things got a little hot and they started to talk in another body language. She was teasing him with her neckline and touching his legs, and he felt continuously erect. Richard knew what was coming for him that night, while the waitress looked at them with the corner of her eyes. Next to them, the tables filled with couples who drank a couple of glasses and then left. They were still there. It seemed that the moment was late and at last, she proposed to him.

  ‘Do you want to come to my room?’

  Richard was stunned but not surprised because deep down, he already knew that one moment or another, she would ask. Boy, did he know! He was de biggest manwhore of all Boad Hill and his wife Rachel was always a rickety woman displaced to the second plane. Richard said yes.

  ‘I’m staying in the hotel next door.’

  He shook his head. He knew what hotel she was referring to. It was small but looked after its design image as one of the greats. They could get there on foot, if they could stand. That night he was going to try an A girl. That night, something was going to happen. Something he did not expected.

  4

  They walked drunk and a little wild making a zig zag. However, she kept her poise. Richard, being the fattest, felt as if he had weights on his shoulders and this made him loose balance. But he could walk. They were just a few blocks from the hotel.

  And they continued walking together and her shoes echoed under the cold winter night, like the rattle of wooden boxes.

  5

  When they walked in, a man with a hat decorated with a golden bow, greeted them nodding his head and bending from the waist, like if he was bowing. The temperature in there was pleasant and Richard accepted the temperature change. Behind the man wearing a grey uniform, was the reception to register into the hotel. A brunette woman with big eyes and a stupid smile on her face was going to register them. When Richard reached the counter, he had already pulled out his ID and credit card with a quick movement.

  ‘One room, please.’

  ‘It is done,’ said the woman and started tipping in a computer hidden from Richard’s sight behind the counter. One moment later, she turned to a shelf full of keys with some device on the other extreme, and took one of them, which made a tingle when it moved.

  ‘Room thirteen,’ she said smiling again with the key hanging from her thin fingers.

  ‘I’m not superstitious,’ answered Richard without anybody asking for explanations and he took the key with the big bronze key hanger, which it sparkled more under the dim light of the foyer. The A girl was holding one of Richards arms showing her eternal holes on her cheeks.

  ‘That would be thirty dollars,’ added the receptionist.

  ‘Do you take
credit card?’

  The woman behind the counter made a gesture with her head and took the card from Richards fingers, who was trying to maintain balance while he waited by supporting his belly on the counter. Sheyla seemed heavier on his left arm. But a good shag will fix everything, thought Richard laughing.

  The receptionist inserted the credit card in a little bank terminal to realize the payment. The transaction was approved and she gave Richard back his card which he took with a shaky hand.

  ‘The room is in the first floor, at the end of the hall, on the left,’ explained the receptionist with the eternal smile, which disappeared as soon as Richard turned away. ‘If you want him to, the man with the hat can escort you to the room...’

  ‘No, thank you,’ said Richard with a shaky voice.

  Then, he and Sheyla walked towards the elevator that was four steps to their left. It was fancy with golden buttons; it looked like a vintage elevator. When the doors opened, they went in, the floor sunk slightly under their feet.

  ‘Does this always happen?’ asked Richard with a smile.

  She shook her head.

  And he pressed the number one. They went up slowly to the first floor. The elevators light was equally deem as in the foyer. When the stepped out of the elevator, the door squeaked a little but they didn’t notice. The long and narrow hallway was covered by an endless red carpet on the floor, and the walls had several lamps illuminating part of the floor and the wall. Richard noticed a strange decoration on the walls. It was like a kind of carpet made of millions of bonded fibers that formed strange patterns, like lianas and trees or perhaps vines. Didn’t the have a better set to put? The question remained in the air and they advanced down the hall, the two of them clutching tightly and trying to control the balance. Her heels sank into the carpet and made no noise. Everything was silent. They turned to the left and walked a few steps when they discerned a golden number, the thirteen. That was their room.

  Richard played with the key before opening the lock; and the door squeaked too.

  That was his night, he told himself and together, they entered the room.

  6

  She pulled him from the tie and walked inside of the room, past a short hallway and guiding him towards the bed. Despite his bulk silhouette, it was easy to pull him like a dog tied to his stroller. He let himself go. And finally, he collapsed on the bed. White and unpolished and after the blow, the sheets moved, leaving a skirt on the edges of the bed. She smiled at him and again, the dimples showed themselves under her jade sight.

  ‘Uhmm...’

  ‘Tonight, I’ll give you what’s yours. What it was always yours,’ and she threw herself on top of him to kiss him. Her tender lips contrasted with his, which were dry. But it was a French kiss and Richard’s dick was getting hard.

  All of a sudden, she got up. Not yet. The moment hadn’t come yet. Richard, whose belly was huge, was lying on the bed, breathless.

  ‘I’m going to take a shower,’ she said at the same time she turned around. Her naughty ass wiggled with every step as the A girl walked to the bathroom.

  Richard sat up on the bed, no without effort due to his overweight. He licked his lips and then, he saw it. It was a dark stain, like gelatin and it was stuck on the floor. In front of this, there was another stain. He made a gesture like he was sick. “It’s just spit” he thought and he downplayed this when the A girl turned around and leaned on the bathroom’s door’s frame and winked at him. Richard smiles widely looking stupid. His missing tooth was visible, but that didn’t matter anymore. After that, she went inside the bathroom and locked the door.

  7

  The night kept its course and the wind had finished. Richard thanked greatly having a heating system in the room. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, right where the girl had left him. But Richard had taken off his pants and put them on a chair next to one of the nightstands. The light was faint and time passed very slowly. He looked at his watch. It was past 2 a.m. When had she got inside the shower? Around forty minutes already? Richard got impatient at times, showing a shiver on his legs and his dick was now flaccid and cold.

  ‘Are you ok?’ he asked raising his voice a little.

  ‘Yes,’ answered her but her voice was different, broken or hoarse.

  Richard frowned.

  Suddenly, the bathroom door opened and a dense and sticky fog and steam flooded the room. She was naked in front of him. Richard’s heart started to beat faster inside his chest. His mouth was a giant O and his eyes shone under the faint light.

  ‘I’m ready for you,’ she said tilting her head. Her green eyes like jade crystals shone under a different color for a moment.

  Richard’s dick was getting hard.

  ‘Como here, baby,’ he said nervously and patted the bed with his right hand.

  She moved her hips and showed her pubic hairs. Now, his erection was ready. Richard started to remove his briefs. She walked towards him and left a trail behind her. It was something sticky. Her breast pointed up, to the room’s ceiling, and barely moved with every step. The atmosphere started to fill up with a bad smell. Richard was so excited that he didn’t care about the smell.

  ‘Look at me,’ she said at the same time she pinched the skin in her chest. The piece of skin fell to the floor and showed that it was greenish on the inside and exude a dark liquid. Then, she continued with her arms. She was flaying herself alive. Now, Richard’s surprise face was getting bigger. She, or whatever that was in front of him, was getting closer to him and then, when Richard wanted to scream and his penis went back to be flaccid, she showed him some claws like spatulas and her mouth opened exaggeratedly, tearing apart her cheeks to show a set of sharp, clean teeth. Her eyes changed color. Now, they were red, and shone like the brake lights of a car. Her reddish hair fell backwards and it showed a grey baldness and her body transformed.

  Richard screamed, but she had thrown herself on top of him, to make love to him. In her own way.

  Rotten apples

  I wrote this story based on the first anthology Stephen King gathered called “Night Shift”. Stephen King wrote and published one story in particular that gave me this idea. It was “Grey Matter”. The idea of a man transforming into something so different and horrible was madly attractive to me. In my case, and after being a person who loves apples, it occurred to me that I could do something that Stephen King would like to read if I had the chance to send him the story. I am sure that this story would become part of his collection. Stephen King mentioned Valencia’s oranges and I, at the early age of thirteen, wrote something about some special apples.

  Tom loved his fruit trees, especially the apple trees when the blossomed in spring. He loved his apples and every day, he ate two apples. The apples were green, acid and huge. One day, Tom is more tired than usual. It is spring and he watches the apple trees blossoming in his land right in front of his bedroom’s window. The flowers opened and Tom is getting more tired as time goes on and he feels his body joints getting more rigid. The flowers start to show the balls that will turn into big apples, but for that, summer must past. Tom surrenders himself and goes into bed with great weakness. He lives alone and he has never visited a doctor, and he wouldn’t start now. He is stubborn. The apples grow up and he, lying on his bed, realizes how his body is now completely rigid. But he can see his apple trees through his window. The first roots start to appear on his nails. After that, they extend to his legs and arms. He becomes wrinkle, rigid; the apples have finished their life. Now is time to pick them up. The apples that sprouted from him too.

  1

  Mister Tom loved his fruit trees, especially the apple trees ad he picked up the harvest between September and October, when the rain and the endless sunrays were more present than ever. But the taste of a bite of an apple was enough to leave him satisfied and happy. The smell that the acid exuded was simply a mystic experience. Tom loved apples and he didn’t miss his two apples a day. One in the morning and one at night. They were gre
en with an unusual glow and very smooth. Completely smooth. He played with them between his long fingers. But this year’s harvest brought something more than the good acid taste and smell of the apple. This year, Tom would wish he didn’t love the apple trees in his land so deeply. Or maybe he wouldn’t.

  Everything happened the next spring, when the flowers of his apple trees started to blossom.

  2

  Last season, Tom had eaten a large quantity of apples and he thought they were the tastiest of them all. More acid and more scented. Tome took special care of his apple trees (around twelve trees), in his land. He hated red apples. He wanted green apples. There are several kinds of apples but for him, the best ones were his. And he told this with a strong believe. He told this to the naked walls of his house, since he lived alone, but he had his apple trees that watched in every season of the year. He was fascinated to observe how they were covered by snow in the winter, how the flowers blossomed in spring and how in summer, the apples grew without stopping and finally, in the fall, he could harvest them.

  But this new season, something changed in his life. The apple trees were preparing to present him with flowers in the spring, surrounded by bees doing their job. And one morning, he felt something in his body. He just felt tired. He felt a little weak. He thought at first, that it was due to flu, but after a couple of hours, he felt better again. And that was it.

  3

  Several days after, when the cocoons opened and reflected all its beauty under the warm spring sun, it happened again. Tom was looking through his window leaning his elbows on the edge, watching the apple tree show, and he felt weak, tired. His face became aching and he frowned at the same time he closed his eyes. A buzz sounded in his ears and he felt dizzy. After that, the tiredness. The exhaustion. He stepped away from the window, barely supporting himself, and walked slowly towards his bed. He sat on the edge of the bed and sighed deeply. Tom was over fifty years old but under a hundred. His age wasn’t the reason of the fatigue. Plus, he wasn’t doing anything! He just watched the trees and breathed with the singing of the birds. And, on the upper part of the window, outside, the sun kept shining and the flowers continued showing its beauty. Inside, Tom was breathing heavily. This time, the effect lasted four hours at least, in which he ended up sleeping, lying on his bed, without moving, with his dirty shoes on, staining the sheets.