Josef stands in front of the mirror, beads of sweat drip from his neck and trickle down his muscled form to the small of his back. He groans and lets his mind wander back to the countless days he spent in exile in Siberia - how he could barely muster enough warmth to survive yet how he would welcome that snow now, living in Venezuela. Even having had left Russia over sixty four years ago he had never quite grown accustomed to the tropical intensity of the country.
Josef stretches, his six pack rippling with the exertion and brushes back a light caramel lock which had fallen onto his face. Giving his reflection one last glance he heads outside, letting the dazzling sun pound down on him - and no, he is not wearing suncream. Josef Stalin is just that reckless.
Josef makes for the docks where he knows all the best looking boys will be. Sure enough, there they are - six perfectly sculpted jawlines turn as Josef approaches.
"Gimme your number" one hollers as Stalin perches on the end of the pier, his legs dangling over the edge and toes immersed in the turquoise water. Josef grins at the guy whom he believed was named Nagy. If he recalled correctly Nagy was an ex-leader of the Communist Party in Hungary and when 'killed' by Khrushchev's associates moved to Venezuela like most out of favour politicians do.
Josef's clear blue eyes connect with Nagy's milk chocolate pools and he feels a spark. This will be very interesting to pursue he thinks and edges closer to the politically liberal Communist. Out of the corner of his eye Josef catches another boy giving him a glare which could turn a lesser being to ice. Josef stands up and swaggers over to the intruder, flexing his muscles and attempting to appear as intimidating as possible.
"Do you wanna fight?" Josef's words drip eloquently from his mouth resembling treacle cascading from a tin into a shining silver saucepan.
The intruder sizes Josef up and in a sudden turn of events kicks him off the edge of the pier. Before Josef can comprehend what is occurring he is falling, spiralling into the abyss of the empty air before plummeting head first into that expanse of salt water which covers the earth's surface.
Josef emerges from the ocean coughing and spluttering, pulling at the seaweed which has become entangled in his previously luscious locks.
"You... you vile cow!" he directs towards the bully.
"That's my name, sweetheart" comes the response and to Josef's utmost surprise, standing this close to his tormentor, eye-to-eye, shoulder-to-shoulder, he feels almost as if he recognises him.. but he cannot quite lay his finger on it..
That is until the imposing figure steps out of the shadows and offers a hand to Stalin.
"Khruschev" he introduces himself "Nikita Khrushchev"
Josef reels back in shock. Not.. not his successor??
YOU ARE READING
A Very Communist Love Story
FanfictionEver wondered what the real Stalin was like? Well now you can discover the man behind the mass killings and ruthlessness. Did you really think he was dead? Well bitch, think again!
