It was a day quite a few years ago,
much like today,
one that smolders and bakes,
makes the skin feel
like it could slide
and melt right off your bones.
Not much else to do but slip
a cool hankey between over-heated breasts,
vain attempt to alleviate the perspiration,
a continual roll of liquid that tickled
in its travels beneath the lacy ruffles
of her white shirt, now conscious
that she should have worn a bra today.
Her name was Candace,
'course the boys all called her Candy,
so sweet, so cheap, so easy to purchase.
She played on the fools, so willing
to taste her succulent treats.
The money quick, paid the bills,
no reason to refuse an easy buck,
an easy lay, an easy life.
Today, she wasn't interested,
wouldn't have known it by her blouse,
now sheer with her own sweat.
Enough cash saved and stuffed
in her pocket to last till she was home.
It'd been a long stretch,
but finally, time to make that journey,
back to the place she was bred,
another small town on the edge
of her nowhere beckoned.
Bags packed and at the station,
nightfall soon approached,
the whistle would begin soon,
anticipation was beginning to build.
Candy needed just one more
glimpse of this seedy hole in the wall,
the darkened windows, shops on the corner,
neon-lit bar where she did 'business'
and met most her 'friends' on desperate nights.
Her long legs stepped with ease
about the place, knowledge in every footfall,
watched by sweat-stinky men
who thought it was their turn
to lick the sweet Candy.
She must have shunned one too many
on this, her 'last night'
cause as the story goes, (least
what old drunks tell as they sit
with nothing better to do but jaw
'bout the past and youth),
Candy's bags sat for 3 heat-bent days
on the pavement outside the station
'fore mysteriously being removed.
Some say they heard a woman scream
late into the night, and still do
when the weather turns sticky this way.
There was a naked body found
in a ditch beside old Route 415,
seems I recall something 'bout it,
woman, red hair, scraps of white fabric
left a-blowin' in the breeze,
dangled from gnarled branches like streamers
at the finish line of a race.
Always made me wonder
what ever happened
to Candy...
Author notes
Written April 11th, 2004
What did you think
Comments
1 - 19 of 19
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Okay came back to read this one. IF you stick with this story you should post the link to it on the first and second storywrite post since this was written a while back, but not entirely necessary.
I think you should follow this through, as written in this poem piece. Candy is just missing, no necessarily dead. People come back from the dead all the time on daytime dramas so why not find her roaming the streets of Flint, Mi, not remembering who she is. Coures I'm jsut kidding. Though I hate to see a character like Candy die, it would leave a bigger impact on the reader.
Desiree
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This is a great beginning - I had to read the story first though...I was intrigued as my screen name is candy177.
I'm off to read part 2 now!
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Nice work on this, UB. I guess this is a story told just about everywhere.
Scott
Edited on Sep 06, 4:33 p.m. because ''. -
This reminds me of the girls I wrote about in "Dragonslayer." "Candy" is a excellent narritive. Very descriptive...drew me right in...emotional transference...sadness of the unknown tragedy...moving.
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This is a great story. I really, really like the sensory stuffs in the opening stanza, though I'd cut out its last line altogether. I like the bits here and there of backwoodsy dialect and slang, and I like even more the entire third stanza. It rolls kinda perfectly when read aloud. Anyway, yeah, this is fantastic. Bravo!
Much respect,
Sarah
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A very captivating poem. You held my attention from start to finsih. I could picture her vividly, and the heat - we get stretches of time like that in the summer and boy do you describe it well. Great job.
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brillant
absolutely brillance.very captivating.poetic mystery.if this is not true,then your imagination worked overtime and what a job.you are a wonderful storyteller.you gave this so much life. -
Almost suceed til someone drags you back down.
Who you were is who you are, and whoever you seem to be is the way people treat you.
And if they say your lifes worth nothing then you may as well be dead.
Candy so sweet, but does bad things to you, rots you from the inside.
It's a shame people don't realise everyone is a someone to someone and no life is for the takin' I read a story in a magazine bout a guy who killed i think 46 prostitutes over a period of time...
I didn't notice the length to be fair, didn't feel long to me... it was just right go you
Jadey xXxXx
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okay... so seriously, you wanted me to read that after i just read that depressing one!?!?!?.... wretchedly wicked of you. but yeah... quite the attention grabbing shocker. can't say as i've ever met a girl named candy myself... i guess i know why now..
cool poem. good job.. long, yes. but still pretty kickin.
much lov
doodoodootpause -
read this last night. of course my initial reaction was to think of that song "Candy's Room" by Springsteen (i can tie almost everything to one of his songs). tis beautifully written with wonderful descriptions - the bags at the station stuck with me and i might have even dreamed something to that affect last night. i have to check, do you write short stories? loved the "heat" to it both weather and human nature heat .. have a great day..
lisa
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Thats prety awsome. Its one of those writes that makes you think even though you pretty much know the outcome. But it was the point of view that made you think. Even though you know how the body is you still think...whoa....it could be her. That was great. Good job.
-J.
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very nice write UB...this is one of those stories that could have happened in any city...that last taste...that last memory...that last buck....so many times our last dance with our demons truly is our undoing...i think we all know what happened to Candy...we've all been there..just some of us more lucky than others....Great write...Great story...perfect moral...thanx for sharing....peace abel
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Damn. This was fascinating. I love the scene here and the voice it was told in. I want to know what happened to Candy, too. The images were great, the grimy and dimly lit barrooms, the sweaty shirt. You took me there. Now, tell me something, is this true?
Edited on Apr 11, 11:13 p.m. because 'I can't bloody type. Bah'. -
a good poetic story, the downs of life continue in life.
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don't touch it!
Hey I remember this one. Sad one it is too. I always wondered what ever happened to Candy too. Still do
I like you bringing back these oldies. Now where's that one about the jar of cream? lol. I think it's cream anyway. Might be mayo. Oh hell I forget now but I remember I liked it.
Desiree -
this is a wonderfully written piece, UB. the pathos it evokes and the smooth moving pace kept my mind and imagination racing along with the story. and the imagery is superb in how it paints word pictures of candy that make me feel like I know her.
I love to read poems that tell a first-rate story and yet retain that feeling of being poetic. this is one of those poems. I really enjoyed the read!
` travis
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A brilliant tale that read as if it were a true story...
it certainly held my attention from start to finish. well done i thoroughly enjoyed reading this.
Well done.,
Ann -
OMG UB this was wonderful I have no clue what made you make this but I enjoyed it the story it self was kinda sad and says a lot the fast and easy life can come back on you in bad ways I thought this was a great poem lots of love Robin...aka SH
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You have told this story perfectly. This is one write that held my attention from begining to end, considering my first thought was, "Oh look at the legnth." But I'll tell you something, this was a fantastic piece leaves you in awe, you've done a fantastic job
Natalia
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