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TITLE (EDIT)
Michael.... By J.D. Stiltner |
DESCRIPTION
It's about a young man who is faced with the harsh realities of life and they take suddenly take their toll.
[1,034 words] |
TITLE KEYWORD
Drama |
AUTHOR
J D Stiltner |
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
I'm a 16 year old male from Hurley Virginia. I wrote this story one morning when I was feeling low because the wife part I can relate to and all the other parts of it I have witnessed happening to other people first-hand. Hope Everyone Enjoys it. Feel free to e-mail me back with any comments.
[March 2003] |
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL ADDRESS
stiltner_james@yahoo.com |
Michael.... By J.D. Stiltner
J D Stiltner
Michael
Michael Smith had married too young.
There were many “reasons” for this abrupt change
of life, but many considered getting out of his
parents home, which was a rent-controlled outpost
of hell. By day he labored in a record store. By
night, he was nothing. Not even a star in his
own house. Usually coming home bored from talking
to many consumers about the new selections of
country, rap, and heavy metal, one can understand
how this put a strain on the marriage, not to
mention being wed at such a young age. Michael
had too many conflicting “isms” (or ideas if you
will) to be a fully functional parent, husband,
or member of society. Part of him wanted to stay
with his lovely, if not relatively older, wife
and their daughter. Part of him wanted to go back
home and take care of some “unfinished business”.
He had been having spooky dreams as of late and
they were taking a toll on his so called “nightlife”
(compared to most males his age of clubbing,
partying and hanging out with friends, his
consisted of frequent arguments, depression, and
self-doubt).
He lie awake at night hearing the sounds he’d
heard while at work. Queen’s “Crazy Little Thing
Called Love” was his main selection when possible.
He remembered watching customers walk in the
store, smiling, sometimes with their families,
and walk around the store and buy nothing. Still,
Michael wished them to “have a good day”.
These dreams he was having were not your usual
sex-type dreams. Those dreams stopped for Michael
long ago. The unfinished business that I spoke
of earlier was what he contributes to him having
such a “messed up” life. When he was 15, he got
in an altercation with a man twice his age. The
man was sort of the neighborhood bully, having
had plenty more fights than Michael. This as you
can imagine was very intimidating for Michael.
It wasn’t Michael’s fault and if he’d have the
nerve to face the man, they both would have said
they were sorry. But Michael was not so easily
forgiving. The man had embarrassed him in front
of his friends in the local pool hall. Michael
dreamed of, at 4:15 am in the morning, walking
up to his door, knocking on it, and if the man’s
wife answered, she would be found with a bullet
in her head. Then he would make his way to where
the man was, and execute him. Then Michael would
go back to his wife and daughter and all would be well. Some plan.
But Michael knew that once these dreams were over,
he’d wake up to the real world. His world
consisted not of a loving wife cooking breakfast
for him when he got up every morning, but of
his “queen” lying next to him and quietly wishing
him to “Have a nice day at work, honey”. Then
Michael would put on some clean clothes, tidy
himself up a bit, then be on his way. Where
Queen, Stevie Ray Vaughan, and the other select
favorites were king, Michael being only the
person who merely got them to their throne.
One day a customer walked in the store. A woman.
Black Hair, blue eyes, about 25 years old, 5’5
and 120 pounds. Basically the perfect woman of
Michael’s fantasies. She moved across the record
store, browsing through whatever was available.
Michael walked up to her and said, “D, d, do you
need any help?” The woman then looked at his
shirt. It was a wore out, denim, button-up shirt.
“What’s a nice boy like you doing wearing such
wore-out clothes for?” she said. Michael pondered
a bit then said “This is my favorite shirt ma’am”.
“Ohh forgive me.” She said. “My mind is just not
right today”. Michael then returned to his work
since the woman didn’t seem ready to give a hint
to what she was looking for. As she walked out,
she said “Bye” to Michael. He hung his head down
and waved back. Common Nature for Michael. Hating
to say goodbye.
This would be the trigger for many events that
day. As he returned home, he suddenly found his
wife undesirable, and his daughter as a so-called
“seed” of his carrying on the same “abnormal”
genes. He went into his bedroom and began to
think. He walked around the room just thinking
to himself. When he looked at the clock, it was
10:00 pm at night. He had walked to whole day away.
“Is this the everyday future of my life?” he
wondered.
That night, when his wife come to bed, he told
her about these dreams for the first time, he
thought she would be understanding and appreciate
his honesty. This was not true. She found his
dreams morbid and not so understanding. She said
it would be best if he slept on the couch that
night because she was so “freaked out” by this
sudden change in her husband. By this time their
daughter had noticed this and knocked on the door.
“Mom, Dad, What’s going on?” Nothing sweetheart,
go back to sleep.” Her mother said. “You’re
Mother’s right.” Said Michael. Michael, as did
his daughter, done as he was told.
He flicked on the radio that the couple had in
their living room and lied down on the couch.
All the emotions, all the past feelings, all the
everything, came rushing back to him like a dam
that had just been opened. He felt a pain in his
chest that he’d never felt before, a kind of
“twisting” pain. He lay there for most of the
night with his heart throbbing in pain. Then,
all of his past experiences, finally got what
they wanted.
He looked at the clock and it read “4:15”. The
exact time of his dreamed execution.
Then suddenly, the pain in his chest began to
ache more than ever. He felt his heart stop.
Michael Smith died. A 19 year old having lived
life with as many experiences as a man more than
3 times his age. At 4:15 am, Michael left this
world, while the radio played Queen “Crazy Little
Thing Called Love”. Indeed it is.
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2002 J D Stiltner |
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
March 2003 |
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
3001
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