Gruberfest 07: Beneath This Stone (933 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.64 on 32 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by The Taste of Evil MWU-HA-HA! (View user info) at 2007-10-03 14:54:31 EDT
They will say that I am mad. And they are quite correct. I do not know when the madness came upon me. I sat in that house, that terrible dark place alone in soul but not in body for many years.
My father owned the house you see. He was a cruel man in my youth. He beat my mother, my brother, me. Once he beat my mother so badly her eye burst blood red and she fell. She never got back up again.
Not long after, my older brother left and never returned. I as the younger stayed behind for as long as I could bear the old man's temper.
A year after my mother's demise and my brother's departure, I too left.
My father, miserly and cruel though he was, was no fool.
When his later years came upon him and he grew ill, he took it upon himself to track me down. He told me that the house and his fortune were to be mine, should I come stay with him in his final years.
Perhaps time and a life of freedom had softened me to his plight. Perhaps I was just a greedy fool. In any case I relented to his request. In return for my company, I would have his fortune.
A year passed, then two. Three. And still the old man lived. His body began to fail and he was confined to a chair. His screams for attention grew more and more frequent.
At first I requested that he hire on a nurse, someone better suited to his needs but he was ever the miser and refused to pay money when his own flesh and blood could carry the burden.
Then I pleaded.
Then yelled.
He would have none of it.
The years went by. The summer passed into winter as surely as my youth faded into the past. And yet he breathed. His hoarse breath should have gasped and given up by now I told myself. He only lived to spite me. I was giving him my best years, this breathing corpse.
It was worst at night. The house was always dark, always in shadow. The lights were never on, the power bills always late in being paid. Candles were oft my only source of light.
His breathing filled the house.
His hoarse, scraping breath echoing through the darkened rooms.
I lay awake in my bed, blankets so thin they were like paper, listening to him. Waiting. Hoping. For that final breath. The death rattle. The note 'pon which my freedom is announced.
But it never came.
And I lay there.
Night after night after night. Listening.
Finally, ultimately, I could take no more. The years had gone by and still I laboured under my father's yoke. If he would not go softly into the night then I would usher him into the dark.
On the evening of the day that I had made my murderous decision, I took the old man his dinner. I climbed the stairs to his room while his cries of anger and hate filled my ears.
I was a fool, a cretin. I had disappointed him and disgraced the family. My mother had died of shame. My brother had left because of me. I was a worm, a worthless maggot crawling in the dirt. All this and worse he shouted.
I was calm.
I laid his tray down upon the bed for him. He complained that his soup was cold, that I had made too much and wasted his hard earned money.
I scoffed inwardly. He had made his money from the sweat and blood and broken backs of others. Toil had never been for him.
His beady eyes regarded me as I sat beside him. Normally I made my exit as soon as I had laid down the tray, my ears still ringing as I walked back down through the dust on the stairs.
He laid down his spoon, wizened hand shaking and opened his mouth to speak.
No more, I thought, no more.
Before he could utter a sound I stood and my fist smashed into his lined face.
Again and again I struck him. Blood spattered against the headboard and the pillow soaked and ran red. Rage filled me, boiling and swirling in my mind. Primal fury engulfed me as I drove my fists into his skull, never speaking, never uttering a sound, over and over and over.
After a time there was nothing left to strike. My arms were bloody to the elbow, my suit soaked through. I had shards of bone and wood embedded in my fists. Of my father, my tormentor, only a red ruin remained.
Sweat fell from my face, tears ran from my eyes. I had bitten my lip so hard that I had drawn blood.
Quickly now, I wrapped the thin sheets around the body and flung it over my shoulder, not caring for the blood that dripped down my back and onto the floor.
Earlier, I had went to the overgrown garden and dug my father's grave. There was no chance of anyone seeing me, we lived far from any towns or villages. My father disliked the company of others just as much as they disliked him.
His feeble remains weighed nothing. They offered no resistance as I walked down the stairs and into the grey kitchen and out into the deep grass of the garden.
Without sound or ceremony, I flung the corpse into the pit I had prepared. I took a spade that lay near by and covered the bloody blankets with the cold, dark soil of my home. Then, finally, upon the final resting place of my father I rolled the heavy stone that had lain in the gardens for time immemorial.
It had always been there, this grey boulder. In my youth, on the few happy days my brother and I could steal away, it had been our fortress, our castle, a tower of stone where heroes fought and won.
Now it would be the silent guardian of my torturers jail.
I slept soundly that night.
The days past and I began to contemplate re-entering society. Instead of waiting for the paltry groceries to be delivered instead I walked to the nearest town.
The people here only knew me as the son of the cruel recluse, the vicious factory boss who had made there lives misery and then, when it had suited him, closed their place of work and ruined their lives. Their town.
They shunned me.
Oh to be sure they were polite enough but I could see it in their eyes, the anger glaring out at me, hidden by social mores.
Their pleases and thank yous were clipped and sharp.
Everywhere I went I saw curtains twitch and passers-by stop and stare.
They hated me.
Yet had they known what I had done then they would have loved me. This I told myself.
No more. No more could I take their stares, their indignation at my existence.
I fled. Returning in disgrace once more to the house of my father.
That night my sleep was not so sound.
I could feel the heat of the townspeople's glare even though I shivered beneath thin blankets clutched in sweat-greased palms. The blazing hatred that cut me to the bone as I passed by. Their memories of my father etching their acid mark across my very soul.
And I hear him, in spirit, goading me, telling me what a disappointment I was. To him. To mother. To the world.
I had no one but him and he no one but I and yet I had murdered him. Driven by my rage to kill him. Driven by the hatred of not just myself but of others to beat upon pale ancient flesh.
And now I was alone. Alone.
I wished for his breath to return. To fill the house once more with noise. The silence was heavy upon me and the house was as a mausoleum.
I knew what I must do.
The stone was moved, the shovel retrieved and I began my task.
Now I wait. I sit with my father in his room. The blood is dry and the dark soil is as dust but we wait. My father and I. One day, I am certain, they will find us, together. I no longer care, for we are no longer alone.
User Reviews
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2007-10-07 14:13:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I like it when you write fiction, you should do it more.
This had a very dramatic tone to it, but that fit the content well. Very good.
Submitted by ColchesterDr (user info) at 2007-10-07 13:12:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Pretty cool.
Submitted by ChaosJester (user info) at 2007-10-04 15:23:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Damn, FG.
That blows donkey dong.
If it's any consolation, I'm having it put in my will that if something like that happens to me (alzheimers+stroke+what-the-fuck-ever), to IMMEDIATELY throw me out of a plane at around 1300 ft. off the ground.
Ending life as a half-paralyzed/crazed lawn-dart will probably be the coolest thing EVAR!
Submitted by The_taste_of_Monkeys (user info) at 2007-10-04 15:18:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Christ!
Sorry below.
Submitted by forensicgirl3 (user info) at 2007-10-04 12:14:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Jesus.
Ok, here goes. I liked the story but what really stabbed me was how it opened. There is no way you, or anyone else, could have known this but I helped my mother care for my grandmother when she had Alzheimers.
What ushered it on was a stroke/heart attack combo that my grandmother miraculously lived through. The doctors told us that she shouldn't have lived and that they didn't expect her to last more than 3 months.
She hung on for 3 years!
As my grandmother became worse and worse, the toll it took on me and my mother became worse as well. Sometimes people with Alzheimers become abusive and extremely upleasant. My grandmother would fight me tooth and nail, physically hitting me, as I tried to bath her and help her dress. She would throw food at me if she didn't like what I fixed for her.
It got to the point where my mother and I sat around talking about how we couldn't wait for her to die. Everyday we hoped that today would be the day she finally kicked the bucket.
Your story caused all these memories to pop into my frontal cortex.
I both curse and commend you!
Submitted by zwerg (user info) at 2007-10-04 08:48:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Very Poe, and I like Poe, so +2.
Submitted by orph (user info) at 2007-10-04 08:46:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
this was good, and iddqd is a dick
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2007-10-04 08:38:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by iddqd (user info) at 2007-10-03 23:51:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
leave that fucking enter key ALONE!!!
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Says Mr. Run-on Sentences With No Capitalised Letters.
Submitted by iddqd (user info) at 2007-10-03 23:51:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
leave that fucking enter key ALONE!!!
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2007-10-03 19:18:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Needs more Mumm Ra
Submitted by ahumblefool (user info) at 2007-10-03 17:53:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by ahumblefool (user info) at 2007-10-03 17:53:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
TTom, one of the reason's I still come around and read Uber is to see what you have been up to. Your comedy pieces are always good for a laugh. Although this is good, this is not your best. It was on the cusp of being very Poe, but I did not feel that gentle tug of dread that Poe was so genius at creating from the ordinary and mundane. I rate this 1.5.
Submitted by ilikesteak (user info) at 2007-10-03 17:34:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Steak like.
Ending reminiscent of cliff. Sharp and abrupt.
Submitted by The_taste_of_Monkeys (user info) at 2007-10-03 17:06:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2007-10-03 21:13:29 BST (#)
Ranking: 2
The days past
passed
minor and stupid it just grated when i came accross it. there was at least one instance of"there" being substituted for "thier" but again minor and stupid. nice work.
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Woops and nurrrrrr
As for the people pointing out it was Poe-esque well that was kind of the point
Submitted by Lib (user info) at 2007-10-03 16:54:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2007-10-03 16:13:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
The days past
passed
minor and stupid it just grated when i came accross it. there was at least one instance of"there" being substituted for "thier" but again minor and stupid. nice work.
Submitted by vexx (user info) at 2007-10-03 15:30:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Poe-lite
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2007-10-03 15:29:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Very good.
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2007-10-03 15:21:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked this alot. Alot.
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2007-10-03 15:18:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was good, but I the ending was somewhat lacking.
Submitted by sir_cowman (user info) at 2007-10-03 15:16:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I wasn't going to minus two him or anything, i was just wondering, because he is going to have a hard time winning this.
Submitted by skrapmetal (user info) at 2007-10-03 15:14:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Yours is writing, mine is just typing. And what Ballare said.
Submitted by ChaosJester (user info) at 2007-10-03 15:10:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I was listening to Manson's Narcissus Narcosis whilst I read this...
Made it all the creepier.
Felt very Victorian.
Once again, I'm glad to +2 you.
Submitted by lover101 (user info) at 2007-10-03 15:08:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by The_taste_of_Monkeys (user info) at 2007-10-03 15:07:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Skrapmetal is my opponent in this. Lets keep it civil this competition shall we?
Submitted by sir_cowman (user info) at 2007-10-03 15:06:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Who is TTOM up against?
Submitted by TechnoRatty (user info) at 2007-10-03 15:04:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Now that was beautifully written!
Submitted by sir_cowman (user info) at 2007-10-03 15:03:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was REALLY good.
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2007-10-03 15:02:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by triangle_man (user info) at 2007-10-03 15:01:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
poe
Submitted by ConorJS (user info) at 2007-10-03 15:01:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Boy, that's some craaaaazy shit right there!
Submitted by Ballare (user info) at 2007-10-03 15:01:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was fucking epic