Hello everyone! How’s it going?
Today, I’ve translated a short text from a friend in order to practice a little.
Don’t hesitate to tell me what you think in your comments, I’ll share with you the link to the original text in French as well as the link to the author’s pages.
And from now, good reading to you all.
Chocolate for Lana
Trigger warnings:
Gruesome death, force-feeding, swear word
“Mommy! Mommy! Can I get one of these, please?!” begged Lana to her overwhelmed mom while wandering among the sections of the supermarket.
“Lana, I’ve already told you a million times that these kinds of things were useless! Now, behave, will you? It’s Christmas eve and you don’t need a calendar. Besides, chocolates are awful.
The discussion being closed, the woman and her daughter carried on with their shopping in this store, overcrowded at this time of the year, slaloming with their noisy cart among the nervous, rushing customers.
Incidentally, it was so crowded that mommy did not see the man just behind her, listening, following them. The man had taken one of the calendars that the little girl had shown and went right behind, quiet, and invisible. He managed to put the object into the woman’s shopping cart, unnoticed to her.
After long minutes to wander among the store departments, Lana and her mom reached the checkout, at last. Unfortunately, when the woman saw the advent calendar, she got mad and scolded Lana who started crying, trying to defend herself against this misunderstanding.
And as they were arguing (or rather, as mom was telling the five-year-old and powerless girl off), the man who was following them was minutely studying what was going on. Anger began to boil inside of him.
After putting away her purchases into plastic bags as best as she could and paid the crazy amount she owed for it, mommy and Lana went out of the store, their arms full.
She walked for a few minutes until they arrived before a lovely little house with red bricks. Plain and clean. With no Christmas decorations, noticed the man who had been following them.
Then, the evening calmly passed. The little girl was sent to bed. Without a story, and without a hug. Without love. The man, after making sure, looking by the windows, that the woman was all alone downstairs, got to the door and rang.
The woman opened the door, surprised. She was not expecting any visitor, especially not a man with some bushy beard.
She did not have time to say a word. The man, carrying some sort of huge bag on his back, pushed her into the house, closed the door and put a finger on his lips to command silence to her frightened host.
He did not have to do it for real, as she had become speechless because of the fear she felt.
The man then said: “I’m really sorry, ma’am. But what I didn’t really like what I saw back there at the store. All the poor girl wanted was some fucking chocolates.”
The woman did not respond. The man pushed her again until she fell over onto the sofa in the lounge and took the famous calendar out of his bag. He tackled the woman in gown to the floor with a firm hand. Then he tore the package, opened the little cardboard windows, removing one by one every chocolate.
He forced the woman to open her mouth, pressing to her cheeks and sinking every chocolate down her throat. The woman tried to resist, but it was vain.
After having had all of the twenty-four little squares in her mouth that was dripping with drool and chocolate, and that smelled like the stench from her stomach turned inside out, the man sat onto the woman’s belly. He forced her mouth shut.
“And merry Christmas, you bitch!” he yelled at the woman’s face who was agonizing, bleeding from her mouth still full of chocolate.
The woman, under the man’s weight and her throat full of sugar, wanted to vomit, but nothing would come out. She thus chocked on it. And she died, just like that, under the weight of that man that was normally called Santa.
The following day, Lana found bunch of presents under the Christmas tree, among which was a calendar full of chocolate, and a man who promised to look after her from now on. She felt delighted. And that was how she became Santa’s daughter.
Morality: buy them kids those fucking calendars.
And now the links : Lana chocolat – texte en français
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Hope you enjoy, stay tuned for more translations
Les petits mots de lancelot 