(Unfortunately, some play-on-words may disappear or could be interpreted incorrectly because this is a transition of my short story from Russian)
RENDEZ-VOUS: Tale of the Lonely Insignificant Man
The employee wanted to call for help, but discovered the park was completely deserted. He was left alone in the intimate silence of the night with the dead woman. He could have called the police, but he didn't know where a payphone was. And a strange, somewhat morbid thought crept into his head that he shouldn't do that. He sensed the dead woman's loneliness in the world of the living, and he believed that this could be remedied. That he had to do that, that he would inevitably reproach himself for his cowardice if he didn't dare do so.
He squatted hesitantly, trembling slightly. He tried to avert his gaze from the corpse's nakedness and, with abrupt movements, like a cat with a wet paw, covered her intimate parts with the scraps of her clothing. He felt like a teenager again, blushing at the sight of a woman's form—which, at heart, he still was. After sitting there for a while, he jumped up, thinking, "Oh, my God! "What am I doing?!" but an overwhelming feeling of regret and a throb in his chest commanded him to sit back down. Timidly, he spoke to the woman. And how he spoke! A childishly naive conversation about the weather and the beauty of blossoming trees gave way to a discussion of the future, dreams and ambitions, and finally took on the appearance of a lively debate about life's important questions – world politics, ethical issues, education, relationships… They talked about relationships for a long time, with longing, with hope, with tenderness. The employee became increasingly relaxed, and no longer behaved like a reserved and modest young man, considering himself a scum and a blight on humanity; he and the corpse already resembled old acquaintances who had seen each other after a good ten years – their lively and warm conversation would have been the envy of anyone passing by at that moment. The employee, intoxicated by his fantasies, behaved with a languid, brazen air that would surely have upset his companion. But since she didn't reprimand him, that meant she didn't mind, right? The employee frequently touched his friend's thighs, and in his fevered mind, she only smiled coquettishly in response. He was drawn to her, so similar to him, so insignificant to the world. A spark of affection flew between them, quickly growing into a flame in his soured heart. He looked around, and seeing no one but the disapprovingly bowed trees and the greenery trembling in indignation, he allowed that strange thought to resurface. Like a young man plucking the single most beautiful flower, he lowered his gaze in shame. This was perhaps his only chance to experience something he would never know. She was ready; he only hesitated slightly. The employee decided to reconsider, to make sure this action was right and necessary. The clouds above him thickened like the gaze of his father-priest, and a light spring rain began to fall, like the tears of the woman's mother. Everything told him that carrying out his plan would be costly. But the flame of passion could no longer be quenched; it was too strong—his soul burned with the fires of Hell, like a burning trash can or barn. The fire found every boarded-up door of hidden and shameful desires that could possibly germinate in the puny human mind and burned them away, releasing the darkness. The employee felt the gaze of passersby on him, even though they were not there. He felt the scorching gaze of heaven. His body suffered from fever and nausea, nausea from the very awareness of the situation, but his inflamed brain demanded it. The park was transformed before his eyes—filled with artificial, painfully saturated and vibrant colors, the scent of nonexistent flowers, unreal creatures engendered by his consciousness and the remnants of human conscience. But his soul demanded. But his soul demanded…
He leaned forward, pressing his heated body against the cold corpse. His hands slid over the woman's velvety, soufflé-soft thighs, lifting her torn dress. He merged with her in a fiery, passionate kiss, experiencing ecstatic pleasure from the sweet taste of her decaying flesh. He caressed her in his arms as if she were alive…
…
The crime was committed. After the employee violated the woman's body, the Eye of God was ready to open and shed light on both the corpse and the breach in humanity, which suppressed lust and the desire to triumph, to be in charge, while its very being was unsuited to governing its own mind, much less that of others. After committing his vile act, the servant hurried away from the scene of the crime. He saw condemnation and a reminder of his actions in everything: in the windows, in the trees, in the sky, in the water, he saw eyes sternly staring straight into his soul. He could not withstand their condemning gaze. The servant also fled from the figure of justice pursuing him—the desecrated body of the woman, with scales and a butcher's cleaver in her tender, angelic hands.
Later, they would both be found dead. Together. Justice had caught up with him.
what do you think about it? this js actually my first short story ever