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The Alley of The Magdalenes

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As a kid we favour the saints, as an adult we understand the sinners. This is the story behind the sinners.

Erotica / Other
Stanley Winata
Age Rating:

The Boozer

The clouds weren’t there that dusk, the sky was clear, yet the station was stuffed, the passengers were still there, finding their way out of the crowds. Down the rail, glimpses of light appeared along the heeding roar of the upcoming train, the passengers were noticed, patiently standing on the sides of the track. The stopping wagons released its load; the old stepped out and the new stepped in.

Among the passengers stepping down was a young man, he was around his thirties, black hair, wearing white shirt and a dark tie, carrying down a brown, leather case. He slipped his way through the bustling crowds, heading into a dim alley at the back of the station.

It was his favourite place, a store for boozers, a store with drinks to forget one’s stress and angst and aghast. The rolling door clanged, the store had opened, the vendor was an old, white haired man organising his goods.

“Ten cans.” Requested the young man.

The vendor turned his body, took a quick glimpse at the young man, reached the shelf taking the order, wrapped it into a plastic bag. “Forty thousand.” Handed the vendor.

The young man reached for his wallet, handed the amount. Upon receiving his order, he took one, opened it, quickly gulped it down.

The vendor watched as the customer quaffed the liquor. In his eyes, he recalled every customer who had drunk with the same act, men who had experienced the poisons of life, men who had resigned to their conditions, felt abandoned by circumstances, being betrayed by their own choices, and worsened by liquors and drugs.

“Look, I know a white collar wouldn’t listen to a street vendor…” Spouted the old vendor comprehending the reason behind his customers’ obsession.

“But isn’t it too early to drink like that?”

The sound didn’t reach the young man’s ears, the liquor started to intoxicate him. He turned around, with eyes still on his can, headed deeper into the darker side of the alley.

– –

Magdalene was the name of the street, a dark side of the alley. While the name was sainted, the path was unholy. From afar, welcoming the arrival of nightfall, lights started to flicker, dancing under purple and blue colours, concealing the true colour of the street. On the sides, bars filled with scents of smoke and liquor, were unloading the hookers – young and stunning, exposing the bodily figures, luring and enticing customers passing by. At its corners, patrons were flocking and hurling, embracing and clutching the hookers, alleviating their desire of pent-up lusts. The place was vile and sordid, committed to every amoral act after the dusk.

The young man had seen it all, he had witnessed every deviant act of the alley, yet he took no intent on it. He strided down the alley with weighty steps and glaring eyes. As he gulped down the liquor cans by cans, his steps were heavier as if unleashed with rage.

Almost to the end of the street, the flickering purple and blue had altered into a moonlit path. There were balconies. It was so cramped that one could jump from one balcony to another. On one of the balconies sat a woman, a young lady, staring and enjoying the lucent moon. She was longing, wondering that something would happen very soon, something that could change her life, something that could change the life of people in the alley. She took a wine, quaffed the drops of the bottle, halted by the footsteps of the young man, gazed to the bottom to see the passerby.

The young man noticed she was there, their eyes met, she was around his age, pale skinned with long, black hair, bright eyes and red tiny lips. The moon was there so he could catch every sight of her. The young lady smiled to greet the young man in a modest manner. Albeit, the Eve was still sober while the Adam wasn’t. The man paid no attention to her, opening another can, turned at the end of the path, approaching his home.

The young man’s home wasn’t far from the station, walking through the dim alley was the shortest path to his destination. Nonetheless, arriving at his home, his condition wasn’t as pleasant as reaching one’s final destination. His face had been red at his front door, he was in his final can, guzzled the drink up, trying to unkey the door unknowing that the door was unlocked. His hangover had never been this heavy that he went all fuzzy upon entering the door. He stumbled upon a pair of shoes, fell upon the doormat and shoes shelf, from his bedroom, he heard a faint noise of someone talking.

The young man exerted his energy to stand back up, he knew his wife was in the house, he knew his wife could help him in his state. He walked, limped toward his bedroom holding his hope and body toward walls on his sides. Nevertheless, the moment he arrived at his bedroom door, he heard his wife moaning in her mother tongue.

The young man knew his wife would only talk in her mother tongue when she was enjoying herself. The young man realised something was wrong. He immediately opened the bedroom door, only to find out his wife had slept with another man.

Stunned, confused, intoxicated, the next thing the young man felt was broken hearted from betrayal. Engaged by the rage of treachery, the young man leapt toward the bed trying to wrestle the man who slept with his wife. Alas, the drinks had taken his strength and consciousness, in addition the man who slept with his wife wasn’t his size. The young man was thrown into the wall, got hit on his head, and fainted out.

The next morning the young man woke up, everything was blurry, his head was still fuzzy after all that night’s drink. In front of him was his wife, sitting at her makeup table, furnishing her nails, waiting for him to wake up.

“I want a divorce.” Was the first thing his wife said.

The young man wasn’t sure what he was hearing, his mind was blank, his eyes were blurry, and his mouth was too dry to talk.

“I got a call from your colleague yesterday. He said you were fired. You got nothing left.” Continued the wife with her eyes having no pity on it.

“I’ll have the lawyer arrange the schedule.” Then she left, leaving the young man all alone, resided, perplexed, and confused.

The young man sat still, pondered in silence, dazing at the door where his wife left. He couldn’t figure out what had happened to him. Things had changed overnight. The only thing he knew was his future was bleak, and his past had nothing to do to help him.

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bobirena28: Good plot, enjoying every moment of it.

Anthonella: Me ha gustado todo de esta historia incluso podia leerla una y otra ves y no me cansa, la verdad se la reconmendaria amis amigos O primos O primas

Plume: A really surprising story, well written it's nice

robertclaudine: Lecture agréable, régulières fautes de mots, ou de sens dans les phrases, mais histoire qui tient en haleine du début à la fin.

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