Tropical Admirer

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Korv
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Tropical Admirer

Postby Korv » Fri Dec 20, 2013 10:43 pm

So tell me, what do you see?

...a pitcher plant.

And in this?

A chimp with bananas in his mouth. He's gonna eat 'em.

And this?

Two bears high-fiving.

Mmm, yes... veerrry interesting.

...you don't have a fuckin' clue what any of my answers mean, do you?

Not as such, no. All we know about psychology was that book someone left in a bungalow.

You're an asshole, I'm done.

Hey, I didn't come here to take your attitude. But I did come to take a dictation, and at your request I might add.

...fine. Maybe it'll make me feel better. Couldn't make me feel any worse. It was the other day when--


The Isle of Mozedicas. A testament to both Nature's brutality and its unlimited capacity for flawless beauty. Bright, sandy beaches cradled by the blue waters, plants blossomed in all the colors of the rainbow, succulent fruit that practically fell off the branches of every other tree in sight... and yet, untouched by civilized man. Even less-civilized men stayed far, far away from it, for beyond those Elysian beaches, a sinister pall stretched from the bordering jungle. The screeches and squawks of flitting animals echoed from beyond the gnarly, heavily stemmed trees, and only grew more imposing as night fell. Those few who dared cross the mossy threshold were never heard from again, and those who merely stayed upon the sands heard deep and horrifying bellows echo from the forest's dark heart.

But that was back in the stupid era of civilization known as "everything prior to the year 1980." Jump ahead to the Information Age, when Mozedicas became host to a small, economically priced three-star vacation spot, Metavira's Point Spa and Resort. Where once men dare not tread, trendy 20-somethings and upper-middle class families spent the days eating, sleeping, playing water polo, getting drunk, golfing, and other beloved cultural pastimes of the moderately wealthy. Maximum leisure for minimal bucks.

Or, so most of the spa's visitor's thought. One in particular was stricken with a kind of ennui after only a couple days. Her name, Kendra Sutherland, 20-something and a budding young student of architecture and design from the marginally less-sunny UCLA campus. Like much of the clientele within her age demographic, Kendra was one of the "pretty ones," a nice slim build, modest chest, shortly cropped black hair, little more curve around the hip than most others; where she differed, however, was her rich, mocha complexion. In Los Angeles, it was the kind of skintone that got you pulled over. Here, it was-- ...well, she hadn't gotten any hassles from the staff or other tourists. Really, nothing even remotely objectionable had been said or done in her presence, and yet, she couldn't help feeling like the odd one out. Back home at least the campus had some diversity, here it was just... well, a bit homogeneous. Not that she held it against anybody, but it just made this entire place feel so phony. The real tropics didn't have concrete and cable television. It had beauty, raw energy, and excitement.

That was when it hit her: the real thing lied just beyond the resort walls.

It was just another day, y'know? Minding my own business, shaking fruit from the trees, whipping the rotten stuff over the walls of that stupid resort for kicks, shit like that. But that's just the thing, isn't it? We can't just barge in and fuck with the people there, they got security. They're smart. They stay out of the jungle. Or so I thought, 'cause that same day, I saw... her. Just walking around. No flipping out, no looking over her shoulder, just... just there.

Kendra figured the early afternoon was a good time to go. Enough daylight to check the wild outskirts and get back before the front gates closed, and most of the more dangerous creatures were likely snoozing if they hadn't already scared off by human settlement. It'd just be a quick jaunt, and she dressed simply with a black two-piece and light sandals. There was enough of a break in the canopy to tell where the sun was at all times, so long as she remembered which the spa was at. Yeah. This could work. Just take in the sights for a half hour or so, then juant back.

Or, so it went in theory. In reality, Kendra couldn't stop looking at the colorful canvas Mozedicas put on display. Greens so bright, flowers with broad, two-toned petals and tinier ones that budded all along the creeping vines in such warm colors. The air itself, though humid, was clean and heavy with the scent of nectar. And every few yards deeper she went, her eyes spotted another technicolor marvel. How could she be expected to just stay along the jungle's borders when such marvelous sights kept popping up?

And she just kept going. That look in her eyes, she was just awestruck by this place. I mean, me, I like it too, but I live here. She acted like she'd never fuckin' seen a tree before. Not like all those other meatheads at the spa, they just take pictures of a lotus and that's it. This one, she just... you could see it in her eyes. She loved this place. She even started talkin' to herself, she said--

"Wow. That atrium in the lobby's got nothing on this." It wasn't as though any of the other tourists would willingly come out here, so enamored were they with water step aerobics and basketweaving classes. For once, she felt free enough to vocalize her thoughts, to actually get lost in her thoughts as she delved deeper into the surrounding forest.

Though in her bemused ponderings, she'd barely noticed a strange, ambient noise. It was low, a bit muted... a gurgling sound, like a pot of something thick and heavy boiling. "...huh," she mumbled. "That's not like a stream, is it?" It couldn't be, running water had a completely different cadence to it. She took another few steps forward, pushing aside a curtain of vines... and felt a sudden warm dampness settling around her sandals.

It wasn't much of a surprise. After all, the soil had been getting a little wet over the last few minutes. Though feeling the muddy earth soak between the sole of her foot and that of her sandal was hardly pleasant. "Gah, son of a--" She cursed quietly, stepping back from the small, muddy rut. Kneeling carefully, she undid the straps, opting to carry the partially sodden footwear. After all, it wasn't like she'd be stepping on any rusty nails out here.

And I don't know why I didn't make the move then. You know how it goes whenever an outsider comes by, we just quit following 'em after a certain point and then bam, but with her, I... it was dumb. And then I blew it, 'cause I accidentally broke a twig.

The sudden snap immediately brought Kendra to attention. Her toned form stiffened, hands clenched. Maybe it was just a tree settling. But the more she thought, the more she focused on it, the more she got... the feeling. That sixth sense when one just feels a displacement in the air, that someone is nearby. Oh, shit. It couldn't have been one of the resort staff, they would've introduced themselves. It could've been the local fauna. It could just as easily be some cretin who noticed her leaving the spa, and had come to very quietly introduce himself... possibly with something sharp, just like a bad horror flick.

That final notion was all the reason she needed to book it. Dropping the sandals, the poor gal tore off through the dense brush.

And then I just went after her. But it wasn't like a hunter's instinct this time, y'know? It was like, "oh fuck, what if I miss out? What if she's gone forever?" For once, I wanted to... to maybe ask them something. About anything, it didn't matter. So I took off after her. It wasn't much of a chase, since she was heading for our usual haunt, and--

The trees and growth grew that little bit sparser as she sprinted through. At first, it seemed like a blessing, no crazy flora to get tripped up in while escaping. Though her bare feet made louder and louder slapping sounds against the slick earth, betraying her position with plap-plap-plaps. She cursed, she panted, anything to steel her nerves even as that tiny voice at the back of her head screamed what a terrible idea this was, begged her to slow down and think--

Well, the jungle would take care of that last part.

Her footfalls plunged deeper into the brown soil, only a shade darker than her own skin. At first, the stuff crept to the ankles... then above them. Her running turned into a tugging gait, and still she kept on through the sticky earth. Then, just as she touched down across the center of a small, sunwarmed clearing, it happened.

A tenuous feeling, not unlike teetering over an edge, clutched her stomach. That snug, wet warmth cradled her feet, oozing between her digits as it slurped towards her shins-- No, past her shins before slowing down, ever so slightly. Staring down, she saw that brown, heaving, slimy surface roiling, gurgling as though angered by her intrusion. As ridiculous as the idea was, it sure felt like what was happening as the surface began to burble in low, thick gloops. Each bit of escaping air painted more of her flesh with specks of the hungry mud. And every time she tugged on one half-sunken limb, the other crept down that much more.

Visions of stupid Tarzan films flitted into her head. It couldn't be quicksand, where was the grit to it? And yet there it was, clamping and slurping towards her thighs like a gigantic maw. She grunted, shuffled, squirmed, but for every centimeter forward, the muck rose two more to make up for it. Given the circumstances, part of her would almost rather smother than be discovered in such a silly, pulp-fiction peril. "...ugh, sweet fucking Christ this couldn't get any worse--"

And she's not screaming or calling out like they always do. It's like she stopped being scared and went straight into embarrassment. I'd never seen anything like it. And that's when I realized, if she went under, it's like... that was it. The last of something new. And I don't even really know why I did it, but I stopped hiding. I let her see me. More than that, I-- I fuckin' like announced myself, almost.

A deep, unpleasant slurp broke Kendra's concentration. More than just the burblings of the primeval slime below, it sounded... It was implacable. Even as she swung her hips and continued her shuffle through the sucking mire, that curiosity got the best of her. How much worse could this possibly get?

With an audible gulp, she swallowed, and corkscrewed herself around just enough to see what was behind her.

"What" was a good enough pronoun for it. Standing tall, unslouched, and sternly at the bog's edge was a dripping, hulking figure. Easily seven feet tall, its mucky mass was made up of the exact same stuff she was currently trapped in, both of its lower legs fused into a solid, slithering pillar. Its arms were bundles of thick and gnarly roots, ending in long and spindly claws, a cape of mossy grasses coating its shoulders. And between those shoulders?

An old, weathered human skull, its lower jaw long since lost to the elements. A pair of soft orange lights stared, stared directly into her eyes. And yet it didn't say a word, didn't convey a single thing through what little of a face it had. It just stared, and then slithered atop the surface of the mud like Christ across the Sea of Galilee, slowly closing the gap between them.

That's when she screamed. Shrieked, really. And I didn't blame her, I was too anxious to say anything. Can you imagine that? Me wanting to talk and then just going slackjawed when I find her? I mean, it's not like she was going anywhere. But... I still don't get why, but I grabbed her biceps, and started lifting her out.

Kendra shrieks only grew louder as those rough, fibrous fingers wrapped themselves around her arms. "L-let go of me, you freak!!" Really, did it matter what she said? This thing was in control now. It wanted her, and it would have her on a silver platter. Slowly, agonizingly, the liquid terra slurped, a heavy suction making the process that much more agonizing as she kicked and struggled. The surface even stretched faintly as she rose, unwilling to relinquish its latest meal until the very end as her ankles shlorped free, leaving her still-kicking and dangling a good foot above the waiting mud.

This was it. This thing was going to shove her into his bulk, it'd dissolve her flesh like acid and then make a trophy or sex toy out of her head--

But the acidifying and skull-fucking didn't come. Instead, she found herself roughly tossed forward, rump plopping heavily against the bog's shallows. She shuddered at the feeling, quickly standing in the ankle-deep mush and ready for the worst that this... this thing would do to her. She waited, eyes closed...

And still nothing. Another few seconds passed before she opened her eyes. Still, the slimy creature stood there, arms at its sides, staring back at her.

The thing with a Goddamned skull for a face just saved her life. Did it even understand English? Could it understand any kind of speech? Did it want something?

But those were all minor in the face of the much bigger, more practical concern: putting as much distance between herself and this mutant as humanly possible. She backed away, with stumbling steps, and then turned to flee once more into the swampy heart of Mozedicas.

...and that was it. I just let her go. No goodbyes, no nothing.

...so after all that, your silent fawning over the first woman you've seen here in what, ten, twenty years, you let her go?

Well maybe I don't know how to handle women, okay? Because, oh stupid me, they show up here all the fucking time.

They do. At the spa.

Yeah but those are behind closed doors. This one, she actually came in, and... fuck. I gotta go back out and look for her.

She's probably dead by now, you realize.

I don't care, I'm not stopping till I find her or her carcass.

And if someone else finds her before you?

Then they're gonna be wishing they hadn't. Outta my way, I got shit to do.

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quagmire_uk
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Re: Tropical Admirer

Postby quagmire_uk » Sat Dec 21, 2013 3:23 am

Wow, interesting story!

Also... "Two bears high-fiving." A fan of Fallout: New Vegas, I see. ;)

Stephymink
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Joined: Wed Apr 15, 2009 12:41 pm

Re: Tropical Admirer

Postby Stephymink » Sat Dec 21, 2013 7:51 pm

Nice story Korv. Sounds like there might be more to it?

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nachtjaeger
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Re: Tropical Admirer

Postby nachtjaeger » Sat Dec 21, 2013 11:36 pm

Wow! Great story, Korv! Nice balance between a "plop and sink" QS story and a short story that happens to have QS in it- that's something I have trouble with. Great stuff! :D
This space for rent- advertise your product or service here!

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Korv
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Re: Tropical Admirer

Postby Korv » Sun Dec 22, 2013 6:51 pm

quagmire_uk wrote:Wow, interesting story!

Also... "Two bears high-fiving." A fan of Fallout: New Vegas, I see. ;)


I have over 400 hours logged into it over the course of two years, so you could say I'm a fan :v

Stephymink wrote:Nice story Korv. Sounds like there might be more to it?


I absolutely plan on a part two, and will post it in this thread just as a heads-up.

nachtjaeger wrote:Wow! Great story, Korv! Nice balance between a "plop and sink" QS story and a short story that happens to have QS in it- that's something I have trouble with. Great stuff! :D


Much obliged. For me, I've always preferred dialogue over descriptions, so trying to write a story with a good sinking scene is always a bit of a challenge. Here, it was tempered by having another character whose thoughts I could vocalize; the next one won't have those little asides.

It was kind of a vent piece, in a way: I'd been super-restless over the past few days and always wanted to do a story for QSF, and it was my day off of work so... well, there you have it. It's great to hear you guys enjoyed it, though! I'll try and get the next installment up before too long.

Rethink
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Joined: Sun Apr 07, 2013 10:50 pm
Location: Denmark

Re: Tropical Admirer

Postby Rethink » Mon Apr 14, 2014 1:49 pm

This story deserves recognition.
You are a writer with a large vocabulary. You seem to master the language so well - not just the fact that you use words in your descriptions not met every day (words like gnarly, jaunt, delved, snug, roiling, slithering). The words used interact excellently.
The atmosphere of being different: Although Kendra is treated respectfully in every way, she feels alienated in an all-white group. Kendra is not the average tourist displaying ordinary behaviour, i.e. the ironic distance to “so enamored were they with water step aerobics and basketweaving classes” The native also see the difference “Not like all those other meatheads at the spa.” “The native” is not presented in the story with a name which may be questionable? Does Korv wants to underline the big gap between the two main characters culturally, mentally …even when it comes to assigning names? There has to be an excuse in order not to be accused of discrimination.

Kendra and the native meet unsuccessfully. Her life is saved, but the tensions in the minds of both prevent them from crossing their own boundaries. They are not able to go into a process of communication. In the end of the story a slight hope is awakened as the native rushes into the jungle to see if she is still around dead or alive.

A justified criticism against modern mass tourism: Kendra has a more openminded and explorative attitude. The other tourists should not travel a long distance just to behave the way they do as they can have a vacation of that kind in their home countries . There is no ultimate truth stipulating what are acceptable ways of behaviour, if you want to visit other cultures far from your own. Kendra tries at least.

I have deliberately chosen not to search to see if Korv has posted a follow-up story to this one, it will be highly appreciated.

cnelson566
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Joined: Thu Apr 16, 2009 11:55 pm

Re: Tropical Admirer

Postby cnelson566 » Sat Apr 26, 2014 3:06 am

It truly is a wonderful story!

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PM2K
Always Remembered
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Location: Eastern Ontario

Re: Tropical Admirer

Postby PM2K » Sat Apr 26, 2014 7:42 am

Damn fine bit of writing! :D Thanks for posting your prose.


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