GRUEBERFEST '07 R3- Jacob's Savior (325 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.55 on 11 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Mayh3m (View user info) at 2007-10-18 02:12:56 EDT
I was never allowed to handle infants.
When I was young, my parents would make sure to supervise me anytime one was around, lest I touch them with my incompetent hands. Even a glance and smile at a child would invoke the wrath of my mother. In one instance, I was at the local barber shop, playing aimlessly with those brick-on-a-line deals; Every barber we went to seemed to have the same toy. After awhile, boredom set in and my eyes began to venture around the room. When my mother rose to check the wait time, I sought sight on a tiny human, resting peacefully in her Mother's arms. I weighed the consequences of stoking her against the benefits, and came to one conclusion: My pet could indeed change the life of this child for the better, so it was my duty to make sure I showed her my affection. I reached to touch her, but I had wasted too much time admiring the beauty of the moment. Suddenly, a sharp pain came from my arm, and when I turned it was my mother, digging her nails into my skin deep enough for blood to trickle out. As it dripped down, I was prepared to scream, like most kids do, but I held it in. No, I couldn't shout, I must keep silent, for I did not want to wake the sleeping child.
I often wondered if I had some sort of sickness, something where the infants would shrivel into dust as soon as my pinky met their nose. As I headed into my high school years, I forgot about my honest passion and moved on to sinful desires (such as undressed individuals of the opposite sex). Yes, that's where most teenagers set their mind frame, and I was no different. I rather enjoyed receiving those magazines in the mail (my mother worked late, and was never the wiser). Once I entered college, I grew tired of them, however. No, that flame came and went, and though I had the occasional sexual encounter, I never was fully satisfied. My attention reverted to infants, and I enrolled into classes were focused on childcare. With these, I hoped to overcome my phobia of handling a baby, just like the therapist told me it would. Alas, he was wrong, and I failed out of the classes more times than I can remember.
Now, with all this in mind, I may come across as a pedophile, but I assure you that what I choose as a lifestyle is far from that. No, I could never hurt a child like that, not for my own pleasure, I simply want to influence their lives and pay my respects to their innocent souls. What I do, you see, is justified.
I steal babies.
Steal....That's a harsh word. However, for lack of a better, I'll use it. See, I realized that the only way I was to rid myself of my anguish was to force myself upon these individuals; no one could stop me, not my parents, and not the infant's parents. No, they were too busy with their own lives to even notice. Some didn't come to the police for days, making me ponder if the child was better off with someone who cared, like me. I made sure to return each child once I done dispensing my morsels of knowledge. I would explain to them to never let society dictate their lives, though I knew they would. I told them that life is so fragile that they must not take it for granted, but I knew they would. I knew that most of my words fell on deaf ears, but that somehow in the future it would mean something in their life. Maybe the parents would pay more attention to their kids now- Sometimes, people don't realize how good something is until they've lost it, if only briefly. I never cared to follow up with the child, I was content in believing that regardless of how they turned out, it was because of me.
Some cried, some slept, and some even giggled as I ran from their parents. I don't know why some of the Adults chased after me, I always brought the baby to the closest police station, leaving him or her at the front desk. I disguised the situation, stating the baby was merely sitting at a park bench, or outside a closed coffee shop. I expected the receptionist to ask me some sort of questions, but none did. Well, there was one that asked if I was father. I almost cried that day.
I never sought to have children of my own. The thought of sharing a child with someone else was too much to fathom. I only wanted them to think of me, and only for a few moments until I had to move on to fix other lives. In addition, I felt like a reverse hero: I fancied myself during the day, and left my obligations to the nighttime. This pattern worked for quite sometime, and interestingly enough I was untouchable.
If that one child hadn't had died, it would have remained as such.
Poor Jacob, he was but only 7 months of age. I found him at the bookshop I frequented, while reading a book written by the acclaimed Dr. Seuss. There he was, in a deep sleep. His father was busy peeping at some computer magazine. What a fool, what a tool of society, and the only thing he would reap was fulfilling desire to instill morals on his son. When he got up to place the magazine on the rack, I darted for the child , leaving his cradle undisturbed. As I dashed out the store, I shielded my face and soon was home free. I didn't know where to begin, I had so much to teach Jacob and so little time. I headed down to the subway and sat down on a bench. Jacob began to tussle in my arms, signaling I was hold him improper. I juggled my arms until he stopped moving and held him close. He still was moving, and started to cry. I was nervous, I usually just took the child to my apartment, but this time was different. The police stations were beginning to become suspicious of me, making it harder for me to return the children each time. I was forced to where disguises, and ran out of voices. In light of that, Jacob was to be the first infant I was going to return downtown. As our ride arrived, I looked into his face and smiled. He looked back, and began crying uncontrollably.
I wrestled to comfort him and rose to prepare for the mad dash that precedes the vessel's arrival. When I stepped to move, I stumbled, and lost my control of young Jacob. In slow motion, he flew from my hands. Those pupils that my mother had scathed long ago shrunk small and my skin went pale. I reached to latch him, but he was already gone. The subway rushed across my face, and Jacob was spread around for everyone to enjoy. Not me though, I couldn't enjoy it. I was so angry, so distraught. He was gone. I wanted to throw myself in front of the train, but figured that was too high of a road for what I had done.
People began to crowd around to see what the mess was about, and they all stared at me. I looked back, and many of them embraced me thinking the child was mine. I pushed the people away and ran up the stairs, back to the bookstore, where police officers were waiting. I told them the whole story, I showed them Jacob's tiny blood stained blanket, and breathed my last breath of free air.
Convicted, I spilled my guts (much like- well, nevermind) about the other times, and wagered that the jury would see sympathy when I explained my line of thinking. I was wrong, and the jury seemed to be lost in the fact that I was almost perfect with my record of return. Even my lawyer was ashamed of me, which is ironic- I acted as my own legal defense. Mother didn't show up to my trial, and I was glad. She was the last person who could understand me.
40 years later, on my deathbed, I still recall that day. The hardest part of all this is leaving without being able to tell the new children all the ideas I would like. It's a shame that we must die, but they say no one's getting out of here alive. Not me, not those children I sought to change,
and definitely not Jacob.
User Reviews
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2007-10-21 20:39:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
This is an interesting idea, it needs much more development.
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2007-10-20 09:18:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
How many babies does it take to paint a house?
Depends on how hard you throw em!
Submitted by write-of-way (user info) at 2007-10-19 23:13:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2007-10-19 07:45:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by HotWillie (user info) at 2007-10-18 14:45:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
This needed to be a fuck of a lot longer.
I just didn't care about this dude very much.
It also needs a kick ass ending.
What you wrote was well written, though.
Submitted by triangle_man (user info) at 2007-10-18 13:00:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I read it
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2007-10-18 11:45:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2007-10-18 11:45:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm sorry to say this just didn't work that well for me. It's decent but it just falls short. I wish i could give you something more concrete but it's not coming to me.
Very minor thing not really contributing to disappointment: " I was forced to where disguises"
I usually wear them myself.
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2007-10-18 09:51:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by FALLEN (user info) at 2007-10-18 09:41:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I expected that Jacob would be tossed into a floating block, producing a 1-up mushroom.
this was good.
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2007-10-18 03:08:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This is sick.