The Story Of Maria Cklem: A Short Story

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Waking up with the smell of booze still oozing from my breath I climb out of bed and every breath I take is like a sharp knife in my dry throat. With shaky hands so bad, I’m almost vibrating, my hand grips the dirty glass of what’s left of last night’s whiskey. Gulping down the lava-like liquid I start to choke, quickly trying to spit out what I haven’t already swallowed. After the whiskey comes back up I find an unwanted friend coming along. Below my bare, cracked feet I felt the grimy carpet thinning as the whiskey with drops of blood fall from the corners of my mouth. I wipe my mouth and pull on an old tight pair of pants, hopping into the gray-ish brown bathroom. Fixing the collar of my ink-black shirt I use my free, pale, shaky hand to wipe the scum off the mirror hanging onto the wall as if below were hungry sharks. After I seem to be decently presentable, I trudge my way to Maria Clemm, the mother of my recently deceased love. “Good morning Mrs. Clemm, how are you?” my croaky voice barely able to call out. “It’s the afternoon Edgar, but I am just fine. How are you?” Maria answers monotone without looking up from folding laundry. “I was wondering if you could help me,” I pause to cough into the dirty white handkerchief. “I need some money.” Maria’s face goes blank as she sets down her spotless blouse. “How much?” she sighs as she walks into the other room. Much cleaner than my own, I peer in to see what she’s grabbing. “I’m going to Frederick, Maryland.” I

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