Motley's Short Stories

The Silent One

Night has descended on the city. The glistening splendor of the celestial pearls was consumed by the grandeur of the city lights. The energy of the bustling morning rush dissipates in the moon's ruling. It's time to retreat after intensive exposure to the battlefield. Most of the inhabitants of Las Ketrioke began to follow the descent of the sun and ascend on the morrow.

But not all follow the same cycle. The festivities of the dark has commenced. Owls of the night begin their hunt for prey. Entertainments behind closed doors creep out of the shadows; rendezvous and espionages stealthily litter the dark crevices, and nocturnals slowly dominate the asphalt jungle.

Steel canopies of the megapolis continue to pulse with vibrancy despite most of its people surrendering to slumber. Amidst the lofty skyscrapers of Las Ketrioke is an obscured five-floors building immured with red and orange bricks. Its neon signpost beamed to life. Clamoring footsteps reverberated within its wall accompanied by boisterous shouts and chatters.

"Martha, where's my lipstick?!" A penetrating voice resonated from the second floor. Lilian, the ginger head, messily scavenge her vanity for her wine-toned lipstick.

"I don't know. The last time I used it was last week and I returned it to you afterward." Martha said haughtily. The dainty lady hastily styles her hair for the night in voluminous curls. Usual evening affairs within the vicinity are yet to begin as they await the patrons of the night. Yet tonight, the élan vital began to pump early, anticipating a primeval arrival of famished carnal desires.

"Oh, I think it's with Kelsey" Martha added.

"That brat, where is he then?" Lilian seethed. The bodacious lass was in a hurry to finish her getup. The 'Mama' sternly reprimanded her last time due to her indolence in attendance and she doesn't want the event to repeat again. Well, at most, not in front of her peers. Her final look still lacks her trademarked wine read lips. A famed request from her patrons.

"Maybe at his usual spot." The black-haired woman recounted. She then glanced at the window, wondering what Kelsey is up to again. That lad better not repeat his dramatics tonight, lest face the wrath of the head.

-----Above the edifice, a lithe young man sits on the edge of the building, trudging the height of the fall. The booming energy of the vicinity didn't resonate with the blonde's expression. Solemn. Yet the wind mirrors his own. The breath of the sea brought cold shudders on Kelsey. His navy flannel turtleneck lack adequacy in protecting him from the algid night. Though, the purpose of the cloth wasn't necessary to protect him from the cold wind; it was to hide an underlying disgust he cannot erase in an instant.

He bravely looks below the building as his upper body tilted dangerously downwards. At the entrance of the edifice, the signpost, Red Chamber, brightly illuminates the umbra of the alley. Red Chamber, an enigmatic high-end accommodation, is emplaced from most of the public. In spite of its obscured locale, the patrons, their customers are high profile individuals who value utmost confidentiality.

Their loss is grandly compensated despite a small number of customers.-----When the night is cold, go into the boroughs of the Red Chamber and satiate your hidden hunger to enliven the warmth of contact. It's a common saying associated with the institution. The young man is a long time employee of the institution. Well, not your ordinary employee. He's a courtesan, a prostitute in a sense. They despise the degrading term. It's not suitable for the image they want to portray to themselves.

The young lad saw some of his fellow courtesans welcoming familiar patrons at the entrance. Oh, and some new fledglings, three bachelors of stout statures. Red Chamber rarely receives new patrons every two months, much less than three patrons all at once. Not many are aware of the institution's existence. The whole identity of Red Chamber is shrouded with an enigma. No one knows when it began and what not. But Kelsey knows, not all. He has caressed the underbelly of the mystery. And he wants to get out of here.