4 Short Stories: Misconceptions (557 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesLabels: fictional
Rating: 2 on 23 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Hourman (View user info) at 2006-08-10 07:04:52 EDT
"Dude, so what happened?"
"Fuck if I know man. One minute the dumb bitch was sitting there, and you know I was laying some of the moves on her. When all of a sudden she said she needed space. I was like, 'what the fuck? I thought tonight was the night?' She got all uppity and said If I really cared that I would wait."
"So? Did you fuck her?"
"Nah man...I waited...till Chloe came over! Fucked her instead! Fuck Mary man. I'm always putting up with her bullshit...talking about shit. I don't think that bitch ever trusted me."
"Yeah but dude... you didn't stop cheating on her"
"What does she fucking expect if she doesn't put out?"
**As a child, Mary, was sexually abused by her Father. He would often whisper to his wife 'just going to check on my little lamb'. Stand in the doorway...morals exiting, feelings drifting...sexual depravity greeted. He would come into her room late at night, and play special games. He would always sing a train song 'the train moves slowly down the track hurrah, hurrah'. It wasn't until much later she realised what he had done. He had died years before. A reckless drunk driver had driven him to his death, and he was never sober.
Throughout her life, time and time again, the men in Mary's life had failed her. Her Uncle turned out to have a video recorder in the bathroom and over the years had compiled some forty hours of 'family footage'. He put a bullet to his brain rather that go to prison and get violated the way he violated others.
When Mary had recently met John he was sweet, tender and caring. That is before she heard of Jane, Sam, Claire, Tina, Brenda, Chloe and the countless others he had bedded during their 'relationship'.
Mary took her own life right after she walked in on John fucking Chloe. She was ready to offer herself to him, to give herself wholly. Even when she walked in ON THEM FUCKING all he could manage was "Oh...hi babe". This man had been her rock for over a year, a year of learning to trust. Offering your soul piece by piece.
Everyone was lying to everyone, one way or another. She was done lying.
Police say it was drink or drugs, possibly clinical depression. Mary didn't care. As she stepped off the bridge, she heard the train coming, and remembered the songs her Father would sing as he molested her. A tear ran down her cheek and she forgot the songs, and stepped into the solid wall of light.**
"I've no idea what happened...one minute people are sitting having a good time when...when...oh God I can't talk!"
"Ma'am we need to know what happened. You have to tell us. Two of your colleagues were murdered today. I need to establish what has happened. Please?"
"Mr Mathews had just finished math, and Mrs Daniels was on her way back from English. They finish their classes a little early so they can go for a quick cigarette before the next class. About five past twelve I heard gunshots. I went to the teachers lounge and there they were...!"
"Did they have any enemies, or people who might want to hurt them? Pupils or faculty members?"
"We teach kids for FUCKS sake, who in Christ name can suspect an eleven year old?"
**Daniel was panting. He was out of breath. His Fathers gun was still in his hand. He knew the terrible curse it had. The power of life and death, to give and take, as he saw fit. It was far too much power for a young boy.
He threw it into the lake, dived in and washed all the blood off of his hands and clothes.
Clambering on to the side of the lake he was overcome with joy. He knew for a fact he was going to fail English and Math class, but now, now he had an excuse.
It's not that he hadn't liked his teachers, only the marks they were going to show his parents. His parents always got mad if he failed a class...this way just seems easier...I mean who suspects an eleven year old? Right?**
"Did you hear?"
"About the Stevenson boy?"
"Taking drugs and drinking. He's only seventeen as well. Such a waste of youth."
"Well you try and protect them as much as you can, you try and educate and enlighten, but somehow...sometimes, it just goes wrong!"
"Did they say what it was? Apparently it was a bit of everything. He went cuckoo, hit his father, screamed at his mother...but the strangest thing..."
"What?"
"Well...apparently when the police turned up he was as quiet and respectful as ever almost...happy."
"I doubt that very much. He was always one of the weird ones."
"Yes well I'm just glad our children aren't like that!"
"Oh no, Bradley and Josh are far to sensible for that sort of ill behaviour."
**He knew they'd bail as soon as the dope ran out. Fucking stoners, so unreliable for a good night...if he'd had some crackers, then they'd have stayed.
Two joints left, and well hidden they were too. Bradley and Josh should've known that he wouldn't have dried it all up so fast. Fuck those two faggots any way. God damned mummies boys. "No mummy we don't take drugs, it's that nasty Stevenson kid. The weird one surrounded by prejudice and distrust. You know, the one you smile at but loathe inside? The one your mind screams freak to every time you see him in town."
Sweet nectar, crispy green, burning lips and a drying mouth, draw in the fumes of forgetfulness and dull the pain that tomorrow will surely bring.
He knows it's them. His parents. Oh well, balls up, might as well turn the laces out and make it a good kick.
Scream and scream, yell and yell drugs will send you straight to hell.
Through the flurry of fists rained on him, one punch blackened his fathers' pride. He screamed at his mother to make his father stop. Wouldn't raise an eyebrow. Wouldn't raise a hand. Every kid needs a slap now and then. That's how they justify it. The ends justify the means. A slap. A slap from a man twice my size with a weight advantage, the knowledge that I would never raise a fist to him. No...parents need a slap...not the kids.
The cops are here. Thank God. I got a few days before he goes for me again. This might end up costing me a rib...or maybe more.
Thank you officer.**
"I can't believe he would do that."
"To his own sister...such a shame...such a disrespectful thing to do"
"It's God damned fucking sick"
"Drunk. Drunk at your own sisters funeral."
"How'd he get here anyway?"
"He drove."
"...Oh my God"
**He stands alone on a bridge, looking out into the night sky, an empty bottle of vodka in his hand. When he drops it there is no sound, no disapproving splash of the river below, just acceptance, and enveloping sense of security.
A lone tear streams from his eye, calving its own course through his dry cheek. The matted unwashed hair of a nobody blowing in the wind.
When they were younger, he and his sister, they would play by a small brook, catching all manner of crazy little bugs. A couple of times they caught a frog, even a toad once, but they always put it back. Through his entire life that's all he had known his sister to be, the women who gave back everything she had, to make others better.
He whispers her name in the wind. The breeze caresses the name and carries it off into the sky, up to the heavens where she might catch his cry.
His face adorned with many a self-inflicted tributary, screwed up in a knot trying not to scream. His sister had paid for his rehab, twice. Every time he would become a model member of society, he would lift his curse and laugh with his sister again. No matter what, she had always loved him.
He curses himself for being drunk now.
Then one month ago she was driving home from the hospital and a drunk driver forced her onto some black ice. At sixty miles an hour on black ice, a fifteen-year-old hunk of shit V.S Arctic lorry, you know who is going to win. The doctors say she died on impact. He knew it was his fault she couldn't have survived. How could she? Her heart was so weak. After all he had broken her heart time and time again.
He heard the next day. The first time he had spoken to his Father in ten years. He started to cry and ask questions, his father ignored him and in the drawl unforgiving voice said "Goodbye Darren". It started a whole new spiral of destruction, another spiral of despondency and another spiral of devotion to the bottle.
The reason he was here though. Was to jump off of the bridge, and into the cold bowels of hell. He deserves it. Maybe he owes it.
A sudden flashback of when he first came out of rehab. His sister is smiling. He hugs her and she says, "Never throw your life away again".
Now more than ever his sisters' words hit him, hard in the stomach. He almost feels winded by the sheer viscosity of the words, clinging to the bridge, the wind even him. In globules they ebb over him, repeating and churning around in his head "Never throw your life away again". Whether she meant it figuratively or literally he was going to honour this. The last wish his forever dead but never forgotten sister had subconsciously made.
He takes a step off the ledge back up onto the edge of the bridge. He vows to start again. Too honour his sister. For the first time, a real sense of possibility falls upon him; he can see that the future might not be so bad after all.
The cold December night says otherwise. Loose footing, too much alcohol and a strong winter wind are not a good combination one hundred or more feet in the air, on the ledge of a suspension bridge. He falls. He doesn't even fight it. The light of the city streaming past him, the noises all-disappearing, replaced by the rush of wind. He was not worried. He just wished he could've changed the bad things in his life.
He was prepared to die. Maybe the few seconds of hope he had, only to be taken so swiftly, was a small debt he owed his sister. All her hopes and dreams for him were crushed week after week, month after month and year after year. Maybe he owed some debts. At least now he had an eternity to pay them off.
He wished he were sober now.
He wished he hadn't driven drunk to his sisters' funeral.
He hoped there was a bar where he was going.**
User Reviews
Submitted by ruthless (user info) at 2006-10-27 13:09:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Cool.
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-10-27 12:54:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by livEvil (user info) at 2006-10-27 12:46:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Nice. I like your realistic style.
I'll be on the lookout for your future stuff.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-08-11 16:42:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
good.
Submitted by DCWoody (user info) at 2006-08-11 06:38:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Definately a +2, but some people here should calm down already
Submitted by hour_man (user info) at 2006-08-11 05:40:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I can't believe how well this was recieved. Cheers guys.
Submitted by Sockster (user info) at 2006-08-11 03:44:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2006-08-10 16:48:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Plus mother fucking two
Submitted by hour_man (user info) at 2006-08-10 16:11:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
We all jump to conclusions. It's human error.
Submitted by bigdicrick (user info) at 2006-08-10 15:56:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
nice
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-08-10 13:27:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
If people were more honest with their feelings...
Of course, I'm not exactly that either.
Submitted by runswithscissors (user info) at 2006-08-10 13:17:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I really enjoyed these. It is amazing how quickly folks can jump to conclusions.......
Submitted by MyTeeOne (user info) at 2006-08-10 12:18:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I know most of those people. I really enjoyed the conversations before the stories...I've overheard most of those too. Well done.
Submitted by Poots (user info) at 2006-08-10 11:38:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
For some reason this made me think of the movie Butterfly Effect. I suppose it's because of the rape and the cause and effect thing that most people, when in their routine, are oblivious to. I think this feeling also applies to lower levels of human assimilations. I am interested in finding out where they come from and why we act out these feelings.
Are they in all of us or are we born into them. Is it an environmental effect or is it a roll of the dice with our dna. Is it both? Are we totally fucked? Has the god damn plane crashed into the mountain?
I live and I observe. These things are out there and they are creeping into our societies. Not that anyone should care about it or anything. Just lock em up and then set them on the frier. Why and or how is an electric shock more humane than a bullet?
WHERE DO THEY COME FROM?
This got me thinking. If we do this to criminals, just cage them then fry them after a million apeals, why don't we learn from them during the appeals process? Why don't we try and figure it out? I'm off to do that...
Submitted by hour_man (user info) at 2006-08-10 11:35:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Awesome.
Submitted by Susie_Derkins (user info) at 2006-08-10 11:32:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Stellar work.
Submitted by hour_man (user info) at 2006-08-10 11:23:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
woah didn't mean to +2 myself. -2 die me! (i'm well aware that the autours ratings have no affect on the rating of his work!)
Submitted by BobLobla (user info) at 2006-08-10 11:21:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
FUck this, Im' not reading all that.
Wait, i did.
DAMMIT.
That line made me think of Ace as well...
Submitted by hour_man (user info) at 2006-08-10 11:18:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Awesome. 2 of my favourite writers so that's a nice couple of comments.
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-08-10 10:26:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
might as well turn the laces out and make it a good kick.
------------
i think this was brilliant. but that line made me think of ace ventura.
my eyes actually welled up a little. very good show.
Submitted by houseman (user info) at 2006-08-10 10:24:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by DudeThatsBOSH (user info) at 2006-08-10 10:00:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
hey man i dug em
Submitted by hour_man (user info) at 2006-08-10 09:48:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
*tumbleweed* another over populated post. Guess it's my fault for posting on a thursday. -2 die me