A long short Story: The Kiss

[zerademark]

This is a short story I wrote for another site. It was well recieved there, but now I wanted to hear the thoughts about it here. The style is romance, but I'm not really comfortable with it. Constructive Critisme only is allowed. Bash me only if you have the theory to back it up.

This story is way to long for 1 post, so I splitted it into three parts. The next part is coming up tommorrow or the day after tommorrow.

Enjoy!

*WARNING*
The following story below might have material insutable to children under the sixteen. Please have adolt supervision for elements like Drama, Violence and a scene of Nudity.

Part 1: Dawn

Suriname, Paramaribo
July 28 2001

My heart stopped beating when her face neared mine. She already positioned her hands on my cheeks, also pulling me closer to her. I felt a warm feeling spreading from my cheeks to my neck…god, I was blushing! But she was too, with her eyes closed her face also turned red. A slight breeze soothingly caressed through her beautiful blond/red hair. Her perfume was bedazzling and almost addicted me. Placing my hands on her shoulders I also moved my head towards her; towards her slight moisture red lips. ‘This really happening…’ bombed through my mind.

But as our noses contacted eachother and I could tasted her sweet and also sour lips, my mind just shut off. For that second…that unforgettable moment we confirmed and expressed our love to ourselves we managed to stop time itself. We brought down both heaven and hell, collapsing the throne of our Gods and Devils and Demons. All our previous worries and joys had been forgotten; dissipated ourselves from Earthly problems. Our Souls flied out of our bodies and made journeys around the universe, still with our lips locked. We escaped materialization and religious conflicts. We escaped our sorrowful past and dreadful future at that one second.

“What in Hell’s name is going on here, Goddammit!” I heard behind my back while a hand clutched my shoulder with an iron grip. Suddenly I was pulled away from my love, my passion, my fate.

I was forced to turn around –almost falling in the process- and face a very buff security guard. I however noticed that the ID tag on his dark blue blazer wasn’t from this building. The building I was on, Zoeff, was a three story high building having various offices including a cybercafé. That part was the only section outsiders were allowed to go to freely. The rest was off limit, especially the roof. And now they were caught right there by a security guard from a different company.

The guard clutched my T-shirt and started to shake me around. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?! You little bastart! How dare you treat my niece like that! I’ll break your neck, ya hear me Koelie? I’ll break your neck!” He spat at me while slapping me with his other free hand. I raised my hands in an attempt to stop him, but the man just got more and more angry. “Koalo mang, wan tjin boike fiti baka?! **** man, this little kid is fighting back?! Ya law? Are you crazy?”

My face now started to hurt and turn red from all the hitting. I tasted blood in my mouth. In the meanwhile Raisa clamped herself on her uncle, pleading him to stop. He however ignored her pleadings and continued hitting me with his blank hand. “Wan kaulo ‘playboy’ wan smiri tjin meisi? Me na kiri yu! This ‘playboy’ is ******* little girls? I’ll kill you!”
“Uncle, stop please! Don’t do that please!”
“Get out of here Raisa, you’re going to get yours when your father hears about this!”
“No please Uncle, stop stop!”
“What the hell is happening here?!” Another voice interrupted them.

A security officer, this one really originating from the building, approached us and pulled the angry uncle and me from each other. I was panting from the many received hits. My legs collapsed and I fell on the ground. Blood flooded out from my mouth. The security guard was shocked when he noticed this. He pulled out his walkie talkie and called in his colleagues, “Come quick over here, and call an ambulance. We have a displaced guard, a teenage girl and a wounded teenage boy here. Over.”
“Roger that, we’ll be there immediately.” A stirred voice retorted back.
“You all have a lot of explaining to do,” The guard accused.

I was still lying on the floor. My whole mouth tasted sour from the blood and a little searching with my thoung revealed at least two broken teethes. But as I felt very light in my head and blackness started to fade in front of my eyes, there was only one thing I could think about.

‘I kissed her...Raisa…I love her.’

*******

Two months earlier…

“DOWN WITH SCHOOL EVAR!!!” The sixth graders –Eh, I mean ex-sixth graders- shouted simultaneously. They all threw up their black hats in the air while cheering their survival of the school years. Most of them had now succeeded their end-examinations and successfully graduated from the Lyceum I.

So now they rampaged joyful around the school-yard and in the classes. They screamed like pigs, and jumped like horses. But the teachers allowed this behavior for today only. Weren’t they once just as young, and weren’t they just as happy after all their hard work paid off and they could leave the school with pride? So for today it was allowed, after all, what punishment could the teachers use when the lucky students left today, and would probably never come back?

I just casually lend back at a wall while enjoying the sight of Sixth-Graders-Go-Wild.

I got a slight feeling of nostalgia; remembering how I felt during my last year on the MULO school (More Explained Lower School). I passed on the fourth grade and for the first time in my life I had gotten a sense of unity of my classroom. Yes, my last year was certainly exciting and one of the best of my life. And on the final day, when the stats were announced we erupted a big sheer. 97% of our class graduated, a new breaking the old record of 5 failed. And later, after the re-Examines, that percentage was pushed to 99%; meaning only 1 failed. We had a big party afterwards to celebrate and say goodbye before we left to continue our educations.

I suspected that there was going to be a party afterwards, but couldn’t get this confirmed. I shivered at the thought of going through two more classes before joining the sixth grade. Now I was at the end of the year of the fourth grade, or otherwise counted as my first year. Yes, it’s difficult to understand.

Suddenly I felt an arm around my shoulders. Looking sideways I discovered Soraja smiling at me.
“Hey Mark.” She said in a quickie voice. “Sooooo, how’s your girlfriend? Did she make it..?”
“Actually I don’t know.” I answered. “I’ve been waiting here; looking around if I see her, but for now I didn’t. And she isn’t my girlfriend.” I added quickly.
“Aaaw come on! You’ll BE her boyfriend soon though.” She winked at me.
“Urgh, I don’t want to, and FYI, she is- I mean was in the sixth grade. And I barely made it through the fourth. The class difference is going to take a toll.”
“Well, FYI, you two are closer by age I think. Your seventeen, going to eighteen. And she’s going to-“
“Going to nineteen” I finished for her. I shrugged and casually remarked, “Still, I’d rather have someone who’s closer to my age.”
“Like who?” She inquired while looking around her. “Plenty of choice here, Mark. Who do you think will suit you?”
“You, Soraja…Will you be my girlfriend?” I asked her with a serious face while kneeling.

The teenage girl look astonished at me for a second. Then she blinked twice to confirm that I was indeed kneeling in front of her. “Mark…” was all she said. “Oh Mark….!”

One minute later we strolled through the schoolyard with her handprint still visible in red on my left cheek. Luckily I managed to dodge her punches by rolling over the ground. She did manage to stab my hand with her shoe heels. Seriously, those things need to be banned.

“Don’t you dare say something as that AGAIN.” She threatened me while waving her finger.
I shrugged my shoulders as while smiling. “At least not while you’re wearing those shoes.”

She threw her head backwards and laughed happily. “Oh believe me; I have things more dangerous than that.”
“Ooh jolly, well at lea- I discontinued when my eye caught something.
“At least what? Mark? Mark?!”

My attention was completely distracted by her. I saw her walking another girl, who was a little shorter. I had completely forgotten about Soraja. First thing I noticed was her curly blond reddish hair, elegantly tied as a ponytail and settle over her shoulders. At the side of her face two separate strains of hair were settled, reaching almost her chin. At that moment I she turned her head, and two deep brown eyes stared at the mine. She smiled a little shy and quickly turned back to her conversation.

“Hey Mark? Earth to Mark…” Soraja waved with her hand before my eyes.
With a shock I returned from my daydreaming. “Ahem, you were s-saying?”
“You like her, do you?” She asked me while giving a quick nod towards the blond reddish haired girl.
“W-who?” I responded, acting a little confused.
“Eeeh lemme think……Raisa maybe?”

‘Raisa…’

*****

Oh dear, I hope its not too long. Yes it is, Part 2 is coming up.

[HumanePain]

Although the story has potential, the English as a second language was painfully obvious and distracted me from the story.

You obviously have a vivid imagination but hone your English and always check with www dot m-w dot com or dictionary dot com and if possible install and use Mozilla Firefox as it has a built in spell checker, and be sure to watch your singulars and plurals too, as well as your grammar in general.

If you get the English down, you will be able to keep the reader in the dream flow and make the story real for your audience. That, together with your natural imagination will make your stories enjoyable.

[zerademark]

Thank you for your comment.

I am working on my English, reading lots of books and sort. If I'm lucky I might get accepted by some foreing college, and by that time English is going to be my ace at getting it.

I first started out with writing in English because I wanted to improve my story-writing style and I didnt know any Dutch fiction/fanfiction sites. (It might also be that I find the Dutch sites a little boring). I'm actually aspiring on becoming a writer, and an author who I know very well adviced me to write online as practice.

And about Mozilla, I write my stories first on Microsoft Office words 2007. But the program doesn't catch everything, so a few mistakes still runs along.
Again, thank you for your comment and advice.

Next chapter coming out tomorrow or next week.

-ZDM-

[Saya]

True but when you copy the story here in the browser misspelled words should automatically be underlined in red, you can just left click on the word and it'll have the suggestion for the right word there ^_^

[zerademark]

Originally Posted by Saya

True but when you copy the story here in the browser misspelled words should automatically be underlined in red, you can just left click on the word and it'll have the suggestion for the right word there ^_^

Are there misspelled words in the story? MOW '07 doesn't point any incorrect words, except the curse words and Negre language. I do recognize the incorrect grammar though.

[JCC]

"DOWN WITH SCHOOL EVAR!"

Classic.

[gothicusmaximus]

"DOWN WITH SCHOOL EVAR!" is right up there with "I NEED TO BE INITIATED, GODDAMNIT!"

[JCC]

Ms. Crowbar! Major nostalgia trip.

[sunfowerggs]

Hi there, Would a new one like me be welcome here?
Thanks so much in deed.


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[zerademark]

Crap, forgot all about this.
Next part is here.

Holland, August 21 2011

The cold penetrated strait through my jacket and multiple sweaters. I cursed a few times while looking at the grey sky above me. ‘Damn, I miss Suriname.’

I pulled my jacked tighter and made my way along the streets. I watches as the rich and spoiled European people walked besides me. A few of them insulted me, saying things like “Go back to Marroko, stupid Muslim!” or “Isnt Turkije not good enough for ya!”
Not one of them actually made a correct guess of my home country. I actually felt lost, so alone in this strange country. For the first time I actually missed Suriname, which is strange, because I also never felt home at there. I couldn’t stand all the subtle hints of hidden racism and discriminations back there, but the open and un-countered insults and cursing also shocked me here.

But there were more differences: Back at home I got irritated whenever something got spiritual or religious treated. Low grades? Punishment of god. You fell from the stairs? Work of the devil.
But at here everyone was so cold. Their hearts were almost colder than the outside temperature itself.
I literally saw an old lady fall on the ground and everyone ignored her. They just stepped over or avoided her. Some of them even jumped on her grocery bag and purse.

But when I tried to help her up, she gazed at me angrily and shouted at me to “Fuck your way up to Irak”.

Well, that made my day…

Nonetheless, I hadn’t come here to help old ladies or complain about the people. My mind was set with only one goal. Find Raisa.
A contact on the internet website Pojo gave me a tip about her currents whereabouts. The one called ‘Kinshin’, living in Holland went a few years to study at a Christian boarding school in France. But before that he lived at his home, and just before he left he noticed a new neighbor. A teenage girl with blond and reddish hair moved in with her cousin. Said her name was Raisa.

After ten years I found her whereabouts. Ten fucking years!

After Raisa’s uncle busted us kissing, he took her home and created a scandal. Raisa’s parents were, like most Hindustan lower class citizens in Suriname, kinda strict on the subjects of love. Before we even met, she wasn’t allowed to talk to boys or even have on as friend. So I think anyone could imagine the scene created after they found out about us. From what I heard, Raisa got hit a lot of times by her father and pulled by her hair by her mother. It was ironically the same uncle who shielded her from her parents. Her mother cried that and screeched that her daughter was a whore and her father disclaimed Raisa ever being his child. The whole family including cousins and uncles, aunts, grandfathers, grandmothers witnessed this, and it was eventually her grandmother who suggested an alternative.

She suggested sending my love one to Holland, to live with her cousin there. Over there Raisa wouldn’t meet me anymore and her cousin would keep an eye on other predatory boys. So without any voice, Raisa was put on a plane and flown away to the cold ex-colonial country.

And I still in the hospital at that time. Her uncle managed to break my jar and somehow also fracture my arm. When I was finally discharged from the white hospital bed, I went on looking for her. When I couldn’t find her anywhere, I tried asking for information by her parents. They denied ever having a Raisa as their daughter and threw me out from their house.

My only savior was Raisa’s email address. I send her about a thousand Emails and waited for months till she came online to reply or chat. My greatest fear was that if she didn’t sign in for six months, that the email address would be canceled. And then I would’ve lost her forever.
But alas, one day after I logged on I noticed that she was online. I immediately double clicked on her name and entered a chatbox.

ZeradeMark says:
Raisa, is that really you?
Lonesome Lover <RaisaBTM@hotmail.sr> says:
<Oh my god, Mark!
Mark, I missed you. I missed you so much.>
<Its okay Raisa, I missed you to. Where are you?>
<Im in Holland, Mark. My granny send me here. To keep me away from you.>
<Fuck, I missed you so much. I love you Raisa.>
<I love you to Mark and sorry for what happened with my uncle. Are you alright? They said you died, that I caused my uncle to kill you. But I didn’t believe them.>
<I was in the hospital for some time but for the rest im okay. Well not so okay. I want to see you.>
<I want to see you too Mark. Do you have webcam?>
<Yes, yes, turn them on. I really longed to see you again.>

<Zerademark has invited Lonesome Lover RaisaBTM@Hotmail.sr to a webcam chat. Please wait.

After a few seconds I almost cried when seeing her face on the screen. The video image was pixilated and clutched, but still I could see my lover. I settled my hand on the computer screen right across her face. ‘You’re so beautiful.’ I blew her a hand kiss. It took a minute for the slow screen to show her smiling and also blowing a hand kiss to me.

*****

I shrugged the memory off and pulled out a note from my jacket. It displayed the address of Raisa. The two of us chatted for a few months, three or so. Whenever it was possible we pulled out the webcame and almost every time we bursted out in tears. I saw her face, I saw her writings, but the fact that I couldn’t touch her, couldn’t hold her…Even kiss her, almost drove me to insanity. As time went on and on I laid almost halve of my money I got from my parents and my work. In my free time I made paintings and sold them. I even made short stories and got them published. They were a moderate success and I was often invited to take part of fancy highclass parties and dinners. But all of that were of no interest for me; I only wanted to make as much money as possible to ‘escape’ to Holland. Setting aside all my earnings and secretly arranging a visa.

Our plan was simple. We would make as much money as possible and eventually I would go to Holland, pick her up from her aunt’s house and elope to Paris. Away from the hidden and open discriminations, away from the hot tropical sun and the intense cold of the winter. Together we would make a living; me as a writer/artist, and she as hair-stylist.

However, fate again plotted against our union. After three months or so, she didn’t come online. Ever again.

I’ve waited for the months to come. I rejected sleep and eventually literally spend every minute in front of the computer. I skipped my classes so I would go to the cybercafé and look for her online. The thought that she would come online and I wasn’t there was almost devastating for me. All that time I pondered what could have happened to her. Did her aunt find out? Did she pull the plug of our chatting? Did she –and this was my worst fear- send Raisa to another country again?

I was left clueless for all those questions, and things took a matter of worse sixth months later. Her email account got canceled. My heart plunged far beneath the depths of hell. I invested all my time into finding her and now shes gone for good. My streak of absence and low grades caused me to drop out of school and soon I had to search for a job. My parents, unwilling to support me anymore threw me out of my home. All the money I had worked and saved for Raisa got spend on searching for a new apartment. My new job consisted of working in at the market, selling fruits for $ 3,- per day. My books lost interest and art supplies were too expensive. But even if I did have enough money, I didn’t have the passion and heart anymore. I was dead in my soul, my body and mind the only thing working and working to survive. While my heart protested and longed for death.

*****

[zerademark]

I made my way to the more southern sides of Holland. There I examined each house as closely as I could, as if I was expecting Raisa to pop up any time; standing in front of a window or just standing by the front door. Each of the houses were build in the old style, made out of wood and mostly red stone and each of them with a family seal printed in metal. I also remember these styles of houses in Suriname, only there the wood was more brightly colored painted and less decorated with woodcuttings.

‘Number 2013, 2015, 2017,…’ I counted while staring at the post code numbers.

In front of number 2023 I stood still. ‘Kinshin lived here. So that means she must have moved somewhere around here. I continued my way, this time closely peeking through the windows. I didn’t care if someone might get the expression I was a thief looking for a target. I just need to find her, one way or another!

Finally I caught something; a glimpse of blond reddish hair waving behind a window. My heart stood still for a moment. ‘Is she it……….?’ I pondered.
‘Lots of people here- especially the white people, have blond hair. It might have been someone else. But then I noticed the brown skin. It really had happened.

“Raisa…my love.” I whispered through my lips, expressing my thoughts.

*****

“H-hello…” I muttered.

The eyes of Raisa expressed a little doubt and shyness, but she also stuttered, “Hi M-mark.”

So there we stood- both of us unable to say anything; paralyzed in our mouths and mind. She laid down her eyes and suppressed the urge to giggle.
I also tried to casually and as indifferent as possible look at her.

After a few seconds I she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but I have to go now…Mechi is waiting for me.”
A little uncomfortable she made an attempt to leave.

Out of desperation I quickly replied, “Ehm…wait.”

She turned around and looked at me a little confused. “Y-yes?”

“Would you like to go out with me?” I spat. “I mean like, like buy you something to drink or eat?”
“I-I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to walk with boys.”
“Well, then,…ahum…okay…”
“…Okay…”

Again she made an effort to leave. But, discouraged as I was, I tried one last desperate move.
“Raisa!” I called out for her.
She turned her head around while walking. But then she stopped.

“You know,…I-I-I- like you.”

An abrupt silence mood fell on us.

She looked at me shocked, and struggling inside herself.

“Please, say something.” I broke the uneasy silence.
“Do you really like me? I mean, like like me?”
“Yes. D-do you…..?”
“I- I don’t know. I’m not allowed to. If my parents find out.”

I stepped towards her and held her hands. Looking in her deep beautiful eyes; almost mesmerizing. “Please, tell me what you think. Forget your parents for this second. Forget your friends. Forget me standing in front of you right now. And tell me…?”

Her eyes widened for a moment, but then she closed them and moved her hands out of mine and placed them around my shoulders. She laid her head on my chest.

“Mark…yes…”

*****

And so there I stood. Right in front of the light-colored wooden door. I took a deep breath while carefully formulating sentences in my head.
‘My most beloved, how long have I not waited for you? Every day was a torture, a torment in my heart. I bled my soul over if it would had helped see you again. Touch your beautiful blond reddish hair. Caress through your neck and shoulders. To look in your deep brown eyes and drown in depths of your soul. Please, kiss me- let our lips be one once again. Let us stop time and space. My love…my Raisa…I will forever be your Mark.’

I rang the doorbell. And then again. I heard the buzzer inside announcing the guest. But no one answered the door. Unbound and full of impatience, I left the door and lurked from the outside through the window to the living room. It took me a while, but finally I made out two shapes. A brown skin, with smooth blond reddish hair was clearly visible. Then uncovered brown skin moved out of sight, only to be replaced with a white skin of the same type. I pushed my left ear on the window out of disbelieve. I heard the voice- the unmistakable voice of my loved one; of Raisa, whispering and emitting sounds of pleasure. My heart once again fell down.

At that moment Raisa took notice of someone staring through the window. She quickly pushed Jordan-her fiancé off of her and took a blanket to cover herself.
“What’s wrong honey?” He asked while she winded the blanked around herself.

In this state Raisa rushed to the window, and peeked outside. The street was empty, not a single soul to be seen. She bit the bottom of her lips and closed the curtains.
“I thought I saw someone in front of the window.”

“What?! Damn perverts.” Jordan sighted but then stood up, completely nude. He pulled Raisa out of the blanket and carried her across the room around his arms. “I guess we need to go somewhere more private to continue, don’t ya think so?” He winked at her.

Raisa smiled a naughty smiled and nodded. “Oh my, you’re so….” And then placed a kiss on his neck.
“I love you.”
“mmmm, you to, God I love you so much!”

*****

I feel the tears run across my face. My bones hurt from the sharp cold. My fists are clutched together. And as I walk into the darker side of twilight, I see the kanaal. An artificial river build by the Hollanders to guide ships through the harbor. A very deep artificial river.

So now I stand, on the edge of the rails. Luckily I always carry some sheets of paper and a pen. So now I write this down, the story of Raisa and Mark. A shameless rip off from Romeo and Juliet. But is this a better rip off? In that Shakespearian play both lovers die. In mine only I will die. Alas, these are my last letters written- my last words settled in a cold and cruel country, far away from my beloved Suriname. And so close to my love.

Dear Raisa, if you ever read this. I still love you, even in death. The Hindus believe in Reincarnation, and that is my only hope. If we don’t meet again in this life, let us love each other in the next. This is my last story, dedicated for every lover there. Please, if you have a true love, keep him/her close.

-Zerachiel de Mark-