Choked by Love

This was written very recently. It's based loosely on Amber (minitacos) and Cliff (mybrotherinmexico) from BlogTV. When I first started writing it, I asked Amber what last name she would like to have in the story. She said "Palin" which is why that last name was used.

While they are together, anything based on LOVE was taken on my love for n00dles.

*******************************************************************************

Clifford Grant was a normal man. He was a smart man. He was a nice, kind, hard working man who believed himself to be like an open book. Clifford was a man. A man in love.

Amber Palin was a mysterious woman. She was a spontaneous woman. She was an energetic, wide eyed, and enthusiastic woman who believed herself to be very ordinary and not at all special. She was a woman. A woman in love.

The world was envious of this love. It was a love that caused uncontrollable giggles and a deep continuous warmth in your heart. It was full of infinite kisses and astronomical hugs. It was an uncatchable butterfly that had flown willingly into their nets.

Yes, this is that famous love you heard about. This is the love that would end all loves.

That is, until Amber died.

They had just woken up, snuggled into each others arms, tracing the imprints the sheets had left on their skin with the tips of their fingers. They washed together, only to end up getting dirtier. Then they took a stroll in the mid-day sun. They walked hand in hand, smiling the whole time.

Amber saw a street vendor selling her favorite treat - mini tacos! Clifford smiles as he watched her skip to the small window, bouncing as she waited for him to serve her the mouthwatering meat filled delicacy as he sat on a bench waiting.

In the distance he heard rumbling. He looked up into the sky, shielding his eyes with his hand. Clear blue sky. No sign of a storm. He look back towards the noise.

He looked too late. As he saw the charging bulls coming down the road, he also saw Amber, arms full of steaming hot mini tacos. His arm stretched out towards her wanting to pull her towards him while screaming "GO BACK!!!" at the same time, his voice loud and deep. This was all taking place in a slow motion speed, but that did not save her. The bulls were too fast and too loud and as soon as she took a step into the road to walk towards Clifford, she was pummeled, mini tacos flying through the air, cracking bones crushed with the hard crisp taco shells, brains and taco meat smeared on the ground, blood and salsa splattering on the bulls hooves and on bystanders' faces, their mouths all open in shock.

It all seemed so surreal.

After that life ending event, Clifford became a very depressed man. He was a heartbroken and lonely man. His life ended when hers did. He holed himself up curling himself up in her clothes trying to keep her essence close to him. He would cry himself to sleep, wake up and lay there, only getting up to go to the bathroom so he wouldn't have to lay in his own filth. He was losing weight fast and he was losing color in his face. This went on for days.

He pried an eye open, her black sweater that she wore on her birthday pressed against his face. The phone was ringing. He didn't want to answer. He didn't want to move or talk to anyone. He only wanted her and now she was gone. The answering machine picked up. "This is Cliff.... And this is Amber! Leave a message... or else you Nazi!" BEEEEEEP.

It was his brother. He wanted him to come down for a while. Be with family. Get out of the house. Eat a meal. He wanted Cliff to call him back. And for Cliff to take a shower.

He smelled his armpit at that comment. He *did* smell. A shower wouldn't be too bad. He got up from the bundles of Ambers clothes and walked with heavy clumsy legs into the bathroom.

While in the shower his brain wandered around. He starting thinking about all the things that he cried about. The thoughts of the last time they kissed. He missed those lips. The last time they argued. He wished he could have taken back every moment they wasted by fighting. The last time they made love. Oh how he wished he could be back inside her. Before he knew it, the water in the tub was up to his ankles. He was confused as to why the water wouldn't be going down the drain. He looked down and found a large clump of hair. Not just any hair. HER hair.

In a hypnotized fashion, he turned off the water. He walked, staring at the handful of gnatted hair. He stood naked, pellets of water dripping down forming a puddle at his feet. He rummaged mindlessly around in the bathroom cabinets until he found what he was looking for. Eureeka! He had found it and his eyes widened with intense determination. He set her wet clump of hair down on the counter and held her hairbrush in front of his face. He started pulling at the strands of dry hair, forming them into a large poufy hairball. Then he worked the dry hair into the wet, moving his hands fast, his reflection in the mirror mimicking his actions. Now he was done. He held up his mini Amber hair doll.

"Hi," he said smiling at the hair doll, pleased with his creation. But it didn't say hi back. He stood there defeated, water rolling down his legs. He walked out of the bathroom and his body flopped on the edge of his bed. The Amber hair doll laid flat and limp in his hand. The phone rang. Cliff walked over to the bedside table and picked up the phone. Starring at the doll he mumbled his answer.

"Ok," he replied to the voice on the other end. " See you then."

Cliff agreed to see his brother in Mexico.

The trip was uneventful, Cliff kept to himself and did not bother with anyone else there, his Amber Hair doll in his pocket the entire time. When he arrived to his destination his brother was there ready to take him home. He would rest, eat and then go out into the heart of the city to look around.

It all started out ok. Cliff went to bed and slept. He awoke to the smell of churro's and fajita's. He ate with his brother and his family. Before heading out, Cliff went into the bathroom to splash water on his face. He felt incomplete. He felt that half of him was gone, and it was. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, the water running down his face and neck, soaking the neckline of his shirt. He looked closer and place his fingers underneath his eyes. He needed to get more sleep, the dark circles did not do anything for his attractive face. His skin looked a sickly yellow tint, and his hair was getting too long. He looked down at the counter and then started rummaging through the bottom cabinet. He had been looking for scissors to give himself a nice trim, but he only found a buzzer. He plugged it in and then clicked it on. The repetitive “bzzzz” echoed in the small bathroom. His hair fell to the floor in strands. After getting it as close to the scalp as he could, he found a razor and shaved it completely off. Then they went out to the town.

The streets were full of shoppers and tourists. People shouting, shoving, it all became too much for Cliff. With all the bustling he lost sight of his brother. He stood there in the street, getting shoved and turned around, shouting for his brother. Cliff started feeling claustrophobic, his forehead covering in sweat, his heart racing. He moved forward and stepped through the first doorway he saw to calm his nerves.

With his eyes closed he sighed and took a deep breath letting the air fill his lungs and then pushed it out slowly through his nose. After his nervous system calmed, he opened his eyes and looked at his surroundings. He was in a dark room, dusty curtains of faded purples and magenta's filled the corners. An odd assortment of beads and vases covered counters against the walls that were covered in black and white photos of the faces of people he could assume were dead. Dim candles lit the small room, their wax making puddle patterns on the dirty floor. In the back was a woman covered in different shawls of various colors. A single candle in front of her lit her face in dancing shadows. Her fingers looked knobby and wrinkly.

"Come here," her voice broke the silence and sounded surprisingly young.

He did as she said although he felt a jolt of panic run though him. He sat down in front of her and did not ask questions.

"You've lost someone," she said this without doubt. She didn't wait for him to answer. "You are going down a downward spiral. You can either continue your fall down or climb out. It's all up to you. Give me what is in your pockets."

He pushed his hands deep down inside his jeans and threw the contents on the table. $40 worth of peso's, a lighter, a receipt from the airport gift shop, his wallet, passport and the Amber Hair Doll. His hand went to the table to grab it back, he hadn't meant to put that out there, but her hand was faster.

"Hey, give that back," he raised from his seat and grabbed across the table to retrieve his item, but before he could get it back, the old woman had left her chair and now had her back turned towards him. She was fumbling with glass jars, lifting and then replacing the lids as she looked inside until she found what she was looking for. Cliff ran towards her, his anger fueling his actions. He would choke her if he needed to, he would get his hair doll back! He ran towards where she was at, his hand removing the thin veils of cloth hanging from the ceiling from his face, she had already found the jar she was looking for and had put the doll inside. He pushed her away, her body stumbling and then regaining her balance, sticking his hand down into the jar to grab it out the doll. Brown dust covered it, and he shook it off while turning his back to the woman who was now cackling; a sound that grated in his ears and reminded him of a dying frog. He shook the doll once more and held back the urge to spit on the woman or knock over her containers. He left the woman and her cackling laugh and set off to find his brother. He wanted to go back home and sleep. After searching for about 10 minutes, he found a taxi since there weren’t any donkeys around to ride back on.
He arrived back to his brothers adobe home calling out to see if anyone was there. His voice traveled through the empty hallways, bouncing off the flat ceiling and dark rooms. Maybe they were out looking for him, maybe they didn’t even know he was missing. The thoughts were irrelevant to him right now, the only thing he could think was how tired he felt, his limbs felt heavy and it felt as though he was walking with cinder blocks on his feet.

He dragged himself into his room, untying his shoes and taking off his shirt. The bed bounced as Cliff flopped himself onto it. He grabbed the Amber Hair Doll from his pocket and stroked it with his finger. He kissed it and clasped it in his hand, and then curled his arm under his pillow and fell asleep.

When he awoke, he couldn’t find the hair doll. He searched all around the empty bed; lifting the sheets, moving the mattress, checking under the bed. He couldn’t find it anywhere. He sat down on the edge of the messy bed and put his hands on his smooth bald head. Except, it wasn’t smooth. He stopped his hand at the back of his head where he felt a large tuft of hair. He pulled at it and cringed in pain. It was his hair attached to his skull. He got up and went into the bathroom to look in the mirror. He turned the light on, the bright light blinding him for a second, neon dots flashing in front of him. When his vision returned to normal, he turned his head slightly to the left to get a better look. There it was, the Amber Mini Doll, but it was deep into his skin. He tried pulling on it again. It didn’t move. He tried to pull his hand away, but the hair had tangled itself around his fingers. He pulled again, and again, and still he could not free his hand from the hair. Then he noticed the hair was now past his fingers and it was steadily going down his hand and arm.

Cliff yanked open the medicine cabinet and searched for something to cut the hair. He found tweezers, but it seemed with every strand he cut, it would just grow back. He threw the silver tweezers to the ground and started searching for the scissors. The tweezers weren’t doing the job fast enough, maybe with scissors he would be able to free his hand out. He rummaged, but it was very difficult with one hand. The hair was now making it’s way to his elbow and up towards his shoulder. Where were those scissors?! He gave up and ran towards the kitchen, the hair now traveling across his upper back and chest. He opened the silverware drawers looking for a sharp knife or a pair of bone cutters. Items clanked and fell out of drawers as he hastily opened each one in search of the cutting tool but his search was unfruitful.

The hair was branching off now; one end moving downwards and the other half moving upwards. Cliff released a guttural noise, his frustration bringing him to tears. He turned and saw the cutting block with the steak knife and butchers cleaver and stumbled towards it. The hair was wrapping his legs together, making it increasingly difficult to walk or stand. He reached out with his hand to grab the knife, but the hair had made its way to his feet, buckling his knees. The hair that was moving upwards has reached his mouth, and as he fell he hit his head on the tiled floor of his brothers kitchen his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He didn’t feel the hair climb its way into his mouth and down into this throat, squeezing his heart and vital organs. Cliff’s body spasmed involuntarily while the hair moved deeper into places it didn’t belong. It was consuming him. He did feel it cover him completely and tighten the strands so tight his bones cracked and snapped. His last verbal noise was a strangled gurgle of blood that wasn’t audible beneath the thick mass of hair covering him.

In his mind though, he could hear her. It was Amber. And then he could see her. She was holding a plate of mini tacos in one hand and was reaching out to him with the other.