Resurrection (760 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 0.64 on 15 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Tigre (View user info) at 2004-12-09 19:17:03 EST
"Everyone has their own fetish. They have their own version of what they see as attractive, whether it's a Goth in tight latex, or a catholic schoolgirl in a short skiirt. It could also be the perfect innocent girl next door that we find to be the most attractive being on earth. Whatever the case, we all know what we like.
Love is not measured by the number of times a guy leaves the toilet seat down, nor is it measured in the number of kisses you give each other in an hour. Love is that inexplicable feeling two people feel between one another when one walks into a room, or they get a moment alone. It's that first kiss, the firing if electrons to one another. This is not based on gender, nor is it based on religion. It's human nature, and because of that you cannot take that away. Marriage is simply a way to show your partner you're sincere. A promise is not void because they are both male, or female. It's because of this very reason that we cannot ban gay marriage.
Thank you, my name is Erich Hartmann."
Erich left the stage with a breif bow, paying little attention to the standing ovation he was receiving from his peers. He touched them. He always did. It was not new to him to stand at the podium and watch as people would clap with tears in their eyes. Tonight he was just trying to make a point.
He had been asked to speak by the PTO of his highschool a few months prior, on several subjects, spanning from alcohol use, to gay marriage. He was just wrapping up as a man in a black trenchcoat entered the auditorium. He was the kind of guy you'd bump into once on the street and pay no attention to him. The kind of guy who nobody cares to take a good look at. He was more figment than man.
Erich exited the stage, and made his way outside where the sun had long since set. He glanced at his watch, mumbling to himself.
"Eight twenty five..eight twenty five.. I've got about a half hour to get home." He didn't live more than five blocks from the school, and he preferred to run rather than drive. He was slim with short black hair. His round framed glasses sat casually on his nose. He often wore contacts though, the glasses were more of a prop.
He slowed to a stop to adjust the legs of his dresspants, check the time and make sure he still had his wallet. He had a bad habit of losing the damned thing. Eight fourty five. Fifteen minutes till Gramma Jay needed her medicine.
He had a few minutes to spare before he walked through the door, glasses fogged but without breaking a sweat. He dusted off his pants and checked his pockets. He was greeting by his lively grandmother who was sitting at the table in the kitchen down the hall,
"Erich! Come here! How was your speech?" She spoke in a thick but understandable German accent. She motioned her old bony hand to him. He took his glasses and wiped them off as he made his way into the kitchen.
"How're you feeling today Gramma? Still sick today?" He opened the cupboard as he skimmed over the bottles of medication.
"Oh no," she waved her hand infront of her nose, wrinkling her eyebrows. "I'm an aryan Erich, just like you. We don't get sick easily. If we do, we don't stay sick, you know that." Helen Hartmann was an avid supporter of Adolf Hitler in her youth back in Berlin. She always told Erich of when she'd hear him speak. She'd go into a dreamy state, her eyes glazing over, wet with tears.
"Here you go Gramma. Take these quick." He set her two nightly heart medications, and platelet thinners and an open bottle of Evian. "The speech went well. They asked me to discuss smoking." He couldn't help but smile, knowing what his wiley grandmother would say.
"Fuck smoking. It's shit, nothing good in that. Might as well smoke road tar, or kiss a few vipers. It's all the same poison in the end." She topped the medication, taking a swig from the bottle. Crossing her arms, she looked up at a grinning Erich. "Whaaat?"
"You're so silly Gramma. That's exactly what I told them..albeit the swearing. More suttle." He rubbed his grandmother's shoulder gently, "I've gotta go get to sleep. Politics makes you weary. He smiled again at his grandmother, she too with a smirk.
"You're just like your Grandfather, and your great grandfather," He moved his mouth with hers, have heard her say it a million times "such strong features, bright mind, perfect speaking sk- Erich are you even listening to me?" He snorted, chuckling for a moment. She gave him a foxish stare as he kissed her forehead.
"G'night gramma."
"Goo'night Erich."
It wasn't going to be such a good night.
A man in a black trenchcoat pushed upen the door to the 7-11 wiping the few sparse raindrops from his black goatee. He pulled his hand from his jacket, tossing a Five dollar bill on the counter, looking at the clerk,
"Pack of marlboros." The kid turned around, pulling a pack from the container by his feet.
"You'll be dead if you smoke enougha those.." The kid half suggested. The man put the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, taking one last look at the kid.
"As far as the world is concerned, I already am." His voice gruff, angry, but understandable. He pushed open the door, walking out into the dark drizzling night. A flick of a lighter could be seen from down the road.
It was a bright swirl of color, in and out like a spectrum engulfing itself over and over. Images burned into the lining of it's stomach, it's skin, it's face. Erich was paralyzed in his own mind, watching the images flash before him and melt. There was a doctor, with dark framed glasses on his face holding a clipboard. He melted into a hairy grizzly bear that lunged for him. The bear's mouth opened wider and wider, engulfing him into a colorful sea of dark colors. At the end was his window, where he realised he was awake. He brushed the sweat from his forehead, breathing heavily. A bolt of lightning flashed outside his window, immediatly followed by a huge clap that shook the house. Erich reached under his mattress, pulling from it a spiralbound notebook and a dull pencil. Quickly he opened it, scanning down the lines before starting to write. He jotted down all that he could remember, the doctor, the grizzly, the color and waking up sitting in a cold sweat. He looked around. Everything was A dark grey. Nothing abnormal.
"Where is it.." He looked around on his nightstand, scanning it for his medicine bottle. Feeling it with his hands, he opened it, sticking his finger inside. "Fuck!" He threw the empty bottle at nothing in particular, as it hit the ground with a gentle tap, and rolled over to a man's black dress shoes.
"Hello Erich." The man's voice was gruff, but subtle. A deep red dot became enflamed and lowered as the man spoke. Erich's color returned. "Do you know who I am." He spoke more as a statement, rather than question. More as a demand than asking for response.
"How the hell would I? You can't even show your face." Erich's words were scared, but strong, almost sarcastic. It came from years of public speaking.
"Very well, if you insist." The man took a step forward, kicking the bottle under the bed. He was about 6' 4", dressed completely in black. His hair was also black, well kept and groomed. His face was kind, but strong with chiseled features. He smiled once out of the corner of his mouth, exposing a pearly canine. "Now do you know?" The red in his eyes were the only contrast to the tan of his face and the black of his attire. He took another drag from his cigarette which lay snug on the opposite corner of his mouth.
"No. No I don't know who you are, so would you kindly get the hell out of this house?" He shook in his bed, afraid, tired, and without his valium. The man took one last drag from his cigarette before flicking it into the nearby empty trashcan.
"Very well then. I'll explain it to you, but it'll all come back much easier in the end. I am your Auferstehung. Your rebirth. Your resurrection. I am you Erich, but not as who you really are. I know how your parent's died, and I know that your aunt Helga committed suicide by a hemp twine on a door handle. I know that you are five feet ten inches, and that there is one hair on the left side of your head that is exactly Eight millions of a millimeter longer than the second longest hair. The barber missed it." He gave Erich a moment to take it all in as he tossed up another cigarette "The fiercest verbal battle you ever fought was in a parking lot with another man. His name was Jakob. You tried to tell him about smoking, and he denounced you, did he not?" He didn't give erich a chance to respond. "You told him nothing about the dangers of smoking, but merely the social view of it. You fought fiercely against it, and you won. I know that you gave the man a strong hug, and that he cried on your shoulder. His father, and his grandfather had died of lung cancer, did they not? You influenced the people for the better Erich, but I'll be honest with you. It was all in vain." He lit his cigarette, looking down at the end.
"What.. who.." Erich had his hands in his palms, near weeping. "Just..tell me. What is going on.." The man took a deep puff from his cigarette, blowing it out of the corner of his mouth.
"You have Two kids and a wife Erich. They're waiting for you right now. Oh, and don't be surprised if they call you Jharhl. After all it is your name." Erich barely had a chance to look up before the man took a step, pulling erich by the chin with such force he had never before witnessed. Everything rolled into a white, as if sombody had painted over his eyes. The white sharpened, and turned into squares. There was a quick beeping, which slowly slowed. Sombody was holding his hand.
"Where.. Who.." Was all that he mustered. He looked up. a long red beard tickled his bear chest. He was in a hospital gown, and there were several people there at the foot of the bed. An woman in her mid thirties with kind eyes, and deep red hair in a bun breathed deeply, several large tears streaming down her face. She squeezed his hand once, taking a step to lay her head on his chest.
She struggled to keep out a choked sob,
"It's been 29 years Jharhl.. 29 years you've been asleep. It's good to have you back."
At that very moment, a man with jet black hair and a long flowing trenchcoat walked passed the window. There was alot to catch up on.
User Reviews
Submitted by MANICMOTHER (user info) at 2005-01-23 14:38:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Screw the rest of them Tigre. I loved it.
Submitted by Vomit (user info) at 2005-01-23 14:18:38 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
This REALLY fucking sucks.
Submitted by germy (user info) at 2005-01-02 00:19:23 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
http://captainfoamy.com
Submitted by sparkle_pink (user info) at 2004-12-12 00:22:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Method (user info) at 2004-12-10 23:04:10 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
Oh come now Justin, you know you love it
Submitted by David.Federman (user info) at 2004-12-10 22:35:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Very nice story, but I'm confused as to what happend.
Submitted by Zoidberg (user info) at 2004-12-10 21:59:19 EST (#)
Ranking: -1
well um, you're trying, but this story didnt do much for me
Submitted by Sideburns (user info) at 2004-12-10 19:04:05 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
The next person who refers to me as Tigreburns gets -2s on all their posts.
From me and Tigre.
...and then I'll fly to your house and kill you.
Submitted by Method (user info) at 2004-12-09 23:11:58 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
One of the top 10 posts on ubersite. This was fantastic, thank you for sharing your literary genius with us. The world is now a better place.
Submitted by Saxon (user info) at 2004-12-09 21:59:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by AsshOly (user info) at 2004-12-09 19:22:00 (#)
Ranking: 2
Damn.
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I concur.
Submitted by DanielH (user info) at 2004-12-09 20:21:58 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by Tigre (user info) at 2004-12-09 19:17:31 (#)
Ranking: 0
Real men don't spellcheck.
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That was... what's another word for funny?
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2004-12-09 19:26:14 EST (#)
Ranking: -1
holyfuck that
was hard
to read so I said screw it and gave up
after thefirst
paragraph. Check your formatting next
time.
Submitted by MrPresident (user info) at 2004-12-09 19:23:03 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
No Comment
Submitted by AsshOly (user info) at 2004-12-09 19:22:00 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Damn.
Submitted by Tigre (user info) at 2004-12-09 19:17:31 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Real men don't spellcheck.