From Heaven

The following story received the Best Short Story for Halloween Award in 2014 by the Modern Languages Department of the Eastern Univeristy, Cumaná, Venezuela.

From up here in my apartment building everything looks incredible. My 125/1000mm refractor telescope gives me the possibility to see high contrast images from the moon, planets, nebulas -- everything an astronomy enthusiast needs to fill his most pure passion. Thing is, I am not an astronomy enthusiast. I am what is commonly known as a voyeur.

            I am not a pervert. Oh, God! Not at all! I am just the kind of person who admires the beauty of nudity, of sex, and of nature. Using technology to my favor, I watch the process that links us to the heavenly experience of creation; although most of them interrupt the procreation using birth control, the ultimate goal is not what is important, but the process.

            For many nights, I’ve been watching a couple of actual perverts who stays in the 2th floor of the hotel across the street. They practice S&M. Leather, whips, toys, dominance -- all that is needed for the sickest way of bliss. Intriguing, indeed. One day, I saw the man whipping the girl’s buttocks. God, it was sickening, but still, I can perceive some little drops of heaven there. I am sort of a conservative but not too narrow-minded to completely despise S&M; if it honors the essence of pleasure, I can accept it, and even enjoy some of it.

            Today, it has been tough -- maybe tougher than usual; there has been kicking, spitting, raping, strangling. Right now, he is raping her again on the floor. That is, of course, my favorite part, my little drops of heaven, because the rest, as I said before, is mostly sickening.

            Is the violence towards the other the highest level of expression -- of art? I’m considering it. I don’t know. I’m getting really excited about this! That’s it! Come on! I hope this can continue the following days, since I’m waiting for a new kit of light filters for my telescope. I asked for them and they were supposed to bring them to me on Monday. Now it’s Tuesday and I could’ve been watching this show with an appropriate light filter! Damn! The hotel room where they are has way too many light bulbs. It still looks great but it could look amazing. Yes! Spank that little bitch! Fifteen minutes of this, and now it’s when I’m turning on!

            Only his crotch and his face are cover with leather, and she’s completely naked. He laid her on the bed and he’s raping her. It’s not legally a rape, but it looks like it, and it’s better for me to think that is actual rape. I have to tell you, I thought violence in sex was sort of hellish, but now I think it’s the quintessential state of sexual intercourse. God was born from this!

            But -- wait -- something is happening -- what the…? The hitting was hot before but -- is he actually hitting her? ACTUALLY?! Maybe I’m just a conservative S&M novice and don’t know how this works. Even so, it looks too real. Each hit -- each hit is too hard. She started to cry and he hit her, so now she’s unconscious. Come on, man! She is already unconscious! Why do you have to still beat her? No! Even I know this is wrong. Is she…?

            It’s been a couple of minutes. This is crazy! This is crazy! She was crying when he hit her on the face multiple times. I had to put myself away from the telescope. Besides, those weird noises outside in the hall didn’t help. Should I call the cops? But what if that was all an act? I have to check again…

           Thank God! They were sitting on the bed and talking. Apparently, they were going to start again, but I had to take a little rest -- drink some tea. This was extreme! It is incredible when one, after many years of experience in a particular field of human nature, can still feel surprised. Nature is something godlike. Scientists and philosophers should do this a little -- get out of their safe labs and minds and experience life in real, like me. Don’t you think? Again, the weird noises outside. I’m sure it’s the damn kids of the building! I better check out the telescope again.

            Strangling? They have done it before and now it’s hotter than ever! After my previous scare, I thought I wasn’t gonna be on the mood once more but damn sure I am! His hands are around her neck, strangling harder and harder, while he’s in and out, in and out, in and out… His leather mask makes things creepier. I hope they do this again tomorrow, and more important, I hope I have my kit of filters by then.

            Now she defends herself! She just viciously scratched his chest and neck! He’s bleeding! Oh, God! He seems mad… maybe too mad? Don’t misunderstand the situation one more time. Please, relax. They’re playing -- just playing. He is pulling out a -- Oh, God! Oh, God! -- A knife? A freaking knife! Never heard of such a sex toy! -- Relax! Come on! Relax! Maybe he’s just playing as usual. He got the knife closed to her neck and she -- hit on his crotch! She is trying to get out but the door’s closed! I should call the police -- No! That’s just a game that you don’t entirely understand. He is getting up. Damn! Someone’s knocking at my door, but I need to see what will happen here. If it is my filters I should see who’s there -- Impossible! Too late for that.

            He is getting up. He took her by the neck. Now he is stabbing her! N--No. Stop! Stop! The blood! She’s dying! Is there anybody there? He’s stabbing her against the door! Someone is supposed to hear! The b--blood—red, hellish. She’s--she's fainting. But he’s still stabbing her. No! Now he’s hitting her. He’s trying to open the door. I can see no more -- need to sit. I can’t feel anything but a twisted sensation. Like being bodiless and having my soul blown back and forth by the terrible winds of a violent storm, without rest -- no one will be able to erase this from my mind. I suppose my eyes are opened, but I can see or hear nothing -- my soul goes back and forth.

            Suddenly, a noise is interrupting this trance -- the knocking. Another person! I need another person to ease the burden that troubles me. The noise -- the knocking -- the doorknob! Now I’m here! I’m back! And someone is trying to open my door. Why doesn’t this person wait for me to open? I don’t know, but I need someone to talk to. I hope it is my filters, so I tell him to go and forgive about it. I can give my telescope away also. I don’t need any of that. I’m done with it -- only want to rest. I’m walking slowly towards the door and someone is forcing the doorknob. Wait there. I’m coming. I put my hand on the doorknob. The forcing stops. The door is opening. Is that blood coming from the other side? The light strikes my eyes -- too many bulbs in here.

            I’m losing myself. Blood’s staining my shirt. The knife in my stomach -- that's the girl, the naked girl, the dead naked girl -- on the floor. And in front of me, the extremely lighten room I was watching, and, of course, the man with the creepy leather mask.

Jairo Sánchez.

Short story written in October, 2014

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