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Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 0.72 on 13 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Brandon Fabish <brandino_the_great.at.yahoo.com> (View user info) at 2003-07-04 02:07:51 EDT
The cars, the wreck, the smell of burning gas and smoldering rubble, it's all fading away into the distance. The thing is, all of this is upsetting for issues he'd never told anyone. These are problems a psychiatrist would have to deal with, if you believe in those. The things in life that bother people, if you never get them out, where do they go?
What happens first is you're at school. It's a regular day at school, well, almost regular. Remember those days where it was sort of like a seminar, the ones where people come in and talk to you about drugs, alcohol, sex, etc. Well, this is the sort of day it is. It's not so much school as it is a massive propaganda session set up by a company affiliated with some program like D.A.R.E.
This sort of day is immediately taken as a screw off day. No real classes, no real homework, it's complete bullshit and everyone knows it. Everything they tell you, you already know. It's useless, but for some reason the administrators at the school feel it will affect you in some way. That maybe someone will pay attention and benefit from something.
The day trudges on and you go from class to class not giving a damn. You talk to friends throughout the whole day. You answer questions with questions of your own, just to make the "teacher" look silly. You're just here to amuse yourself. And for the time being, everything is going great.
Classes are nearly over; you're in a class about parenting or some other useless bullshit you'll learn later in life, the hard way. The bell rings and now you're all treated like children. Cookies and juice, does life get any better? You're heading there, finally able to meet up and make more jokes about the day with friends, but then your plans are set to hold by a sound.
You're name gets called up to the office. You think nearly nothing of it, you tell your friend you'll be back in a few, and you make your way down the hallway. Once again, things take another twist, as you're two sisters are called up along with you. You know something's wrong immediately.
Now you're starting to sweat a little bit. Your stomach balls up in a not, turns, twists, and shoots up into your throat. It feels like someone is choking you from the inside out. Your legs turn into three hundred pound concrete blocks and you know...
You arrive at the office first and wait, but you already know. You've known, somewhere, deep down, for quite some time, it was just a matter of when. You're already thinking about how everyone else will take it. The turmoil, the tragedy, the sorrow and pitiful looks everyone will give you.
You and both sisters are all at the office door now, the secretary opens the door, and her head is down as she follows you down the hallway to the only door shut. You want to tell her not to feel bad, and just the look on her face only confirms your vague suspicion. The door is opened and inside is your mother. The look on her face is infinite sadness. It's completely horrifying. The look, you'll never forget the look. Your two sisters they immediately have tears welling up in there eyes. They don't know it yet, but they know too.
That's when the news comes. So shocking it is, but you stand there, mortified. You are a statue that is incomplete and ignorant of feelings. Emotions can't enter your petrified body. This is when your mind goes wild with what the future will bring. Already phase one steps in, denial.
You can't believe what you know is true. You thought you'd see him again. It's not fucking fare you're telling yourself over and over again. Why the fuck did it have to be you? What the fuck did you do to deserve this? It's too Goddamned crazy to believe. Not even cursing solves the problem. No form of venting gets this out. He's never tried, but he never had to.
It's all you think about, now. That day, the way it happened. Everyone will know. Fuck everyone. Then you think of your brother...Oh shit, your brother. He's coming back home from college the instant you get back home. Well, home in a sense. To go home would be Hell. It's then when you actually realize, you could have seen him.
Just the day before, you were in the crawl space refilling the water softener. It was springtime and there was an odor in the house like you wouldn't believe. No air freshener fixes this kind of stench. The stench of rotting flesh, for over two weeks. You asked him, the day he said he was leaving you fucking asked him, "You'll be back next week, right?" He said, "Yes." He said you would see him again.
You get the picture of what happened to him. Of what brings pain. This kind of emotional pain. He never cried once. He never talked to anyone once. His mother had him see a counselor, but not even a counselor can help when you're just playing his game. Telling him what he wants to hear.
Consciousness is slipping now. Your eyes are a blurry mix of the past and present. What he was just recalling was his fathers death. For two years he had to live with an alcoholic father. He wasn't abusive, but he never did anything. For two years he had to see him this way, and for those two years he sat and watched. He couldn't gather enough courage at such a young age; so immature was he, that he couldn't talk to his own father about his problem.
Soon, his whole family seemed to ignore his father. They didn't want to accept he had a problem that they couldn't control by being passive. This led to his father feeling unwanted, unaccepted. He was depressed because of his drinking, and he never did anything to stop it.
His mother gets a divorce, and gives him two weeks to find a job, get his stuff, and leave. She can't bear to see him like this. He was so torn between his unwanted father, and what seemed like his irrational mother. And one day, his father said he'd leave. They could keep everything because he wouldn't need it. He claimed he had everything lined up for him he would need. A friend would pick him up. What friend? He hadn't talked to hardly anyone in two years.
So that day, before he left for school, he asked his dad if he'd see him next week. His father said yes. And that was the last time he' seen him, alive. Remember when he was filling the water softener? His cat jumped down and started sniffing around, two feet away from him, so when he was done, he picker her up and went back upstairs. He was no more then inches away from seeing his dead father.
That stench, that was his father, rotting, in the crawl space. How could his father do such a thing? How could he put his father in such a position? He shot himself, in the head, because his father had lost everything. Born an orphan all he'd wanted was a family. He had one, along with four children. He had a beautiful wife and he couldn't ask for more. The Hell that is on Earth got to him. He couldn't save himself, and no one would help him. He's dead, and in the helicopter he's slipping...
All this emotional pain, this hatred and fucking anguish that some God has put him through...he can't get rid of it. Venting was bullshit for this sort of thing. No one would understand. He was alone, and he felt like his father. Failure.
This is our guy, and he's at peace now. Sort of. All of his problems are in dream form. That day of the wreck, he never did mention he was a car in the accident. He was happy he was too. He acted as if it wasn't a big deal. He was a doctor, he wondered how many of the victims he'd get the chance to meet at the hospital where he worked, only he'd be off duty this time. He'd never got the chance to meet any of them or to save any of them.
He's been in a coma for four months. Thinking about everything that has been bothering him. Dreams are the real reality. Nothing can go permanently wrong in a dream. It's complete nirvana. So maybe he'll die happy, or maybe he'll die still hating the world for it's horrible tragedy that it dealt him.
End.
By Brandon Fabish
``Credits: No one will probably finish this. No one read the story anyways, so I won't bother plugging links to the first parts that may or may not have helped this story make sense.
User Reviews
Submitted by I_Have_a_Kristen_Fetish (user info) at 2004-03-20 06:21:56 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
No Comment
Submitted by pseudonymous (user info) at 2003-12-07 19:55:34 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
buy a diary
Submitted by Razor (user info) at 2003-07-07 13:39:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Ummm... so in the end it was all a coma dream?
Submitted by Phinch (user info) at 2003-07-07 13:22:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
i'm confused, who died in the attic? the father or the depressed brother?
Submitted by JohnWilkesBooth (user info) at 2003-07-05 23:28:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Didnt read it.
Submitted by ninja <tarendar.at.yahoo.com> at 2003-07-05 22:56:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
shoulda posted the links
Submitted by blujnbbyqn (user info) at 2003-07-04 14:18:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
This is a good story. Sad, but good. A very insightful foray into the psyche of your subject. Part of me would like to think that you have never had to struggle with the kind of thoughts and feelings your character is experiencing. The other, more cynical, part of me thinks you must have dealt with these same emotions yourself at some time, just maybe not to the same degree.
Unfortunately, I can relate all too well.
Thanks for posting it.
Michelle
Submitted by dasteve (user info) at 2003-07-04 12:14:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by HeavensWalls (user info) at 2003-07-04 11:36:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow. Couldn't have had a better ending, Brandon. Awesome...
Submitted by Pacifist248 (user info) at 2003-07-04 03:21:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Very, very sad/good.
"Everything they tell you, you already know." Well, they are probably the ones who told you in the first place. Sometimes repeativity helps memory. Not trying to bash the story. Just trying to help out D.A.R.E.
Submitted by Queen (user info) at 2003-07-04 02:59:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Well choosing 1 for "made me smile" is kindof ironic, b/c alltho it was very well written, it did not however, make me smile...lol.
Good job tho, very nicely done.
Queen
Submitted by Random Joe at 2003-07-04 02:43:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
I think it's great. I took creative writing in highschool, and my stories sucked. Probabably because I jotted them down the period before they were due. I wish I could write a story like that. Nice.
Submitted by EvilZurr (user info) at 2003-07-04 02:38:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
how very sad... i dont think anyone should have to live with that kind of problem/that kind of loss. dont sell yourself so short...