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A very short story I wrote for Creative Writing Class.
|AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (6)
10:34 (Short Stories) You describe it. [276 words] [Teenage]
Baby Baby (Poetry) A little poem. It took me about 2 minutes to create it, but you should read it anyway. [80 words]
Nonsense (Poetry) I think the title explains this. [77 words]
The Stopping Point (Poetry) This probably isn't as good as my other work, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. [70 words]
This One's Just For You (Poetry) This one's just a poem. [84 words]
Translucence (Poetry) Just a poem.You should read it. [58 words]
When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring into a white light. It burns, he though, burns straight through to the back of my head. He imagined steam coming out of his ears and his head red, hot and swollen. His arms were pulled uncomfortably to the back of a small chair and tied together with rough rope, now becoming looser and damp from his own sweat. His wrists were unbearably sore, they had rubbed together so hard that a few layers of skin were gone, and blood trickled down and covered his palms.
He shut his eyes and looked down, and the burning stopped. Sweat dropped from the tip of his long nose and hit his bare knee.
“Get up”. The voice that spoke to him was smooth and sounded young. The man in the chair looked up to find the light had been replaced with the dark figure of a young man. He was tall and fit.
“My name is Steven,” said the young man, offering his hand. He laughed when the man in the chair tried to lift his restrained arms to shake his hand.
“I know, Ethan.” He dug through his pocket and produced a driver’s license that read “Ethan J. Donell”. Looking down at it he grinned as though he had just found twenty dollars. “But you prefer to be called Jay, it that right?”
“Yeah. What’s- - “
“I suggest you don’t ask any questions.” He pulled a dark gun from the same pocket in which he held Jay’s license. Jay felt the burning again, straight through to the back of his head. He heard thunder and drums in his skull.
“Jay, did you know we attend the same school?”
“You look vaguely familiar,” he answered, without even glancing at Steven.
“You’re in my Art History class,” explained Steven. “You went to a party last night, your best friend’s nineteenth birthday. You got very drunk, a little stoned. You have a girlfriend?”
Jay glanced up. “That’s correct.”
“You love her?” Steven folded his arms.
“Yeah,” Jay sighed, and peered into Steven’s face as if he were trying to see past it, “A lot.”
Steven shook his head. He said nothing for a few minutes.
“She wasn’t the girl you slept with last night, was she?” Steven’s voice was trembling as he asked this. There was no reply from Jay, he just stared at his own swinging feet, like a small, disappointed boy.
“WAS SHE?” screamed Steven. When he screamed his face turned red, and the veins in his forehead and neck bulged out. Beads of sweat rose.
“Well, I don’t remember m - -“
“JUST ANSWER MY GODDAMN QUESTION!”
“N-no”, Jay squeaked, “She w-wasn’t”. It was now that he felt ashamed.
Steven paced slowly and watched his own feet. He rubbed his short, blonde hair and whispered a few things to himself, but Jay couldn’t make out any real words.
“Jay, look over here.” Steven pointed with his gun to the right of the room. Jay obeyed and turned to the right. In the center of a blank wall was one small monitor. It displayed Jay’s girlfriend. She was tied the same way he was. He turned away and stared at the floor, his vision was blurred by water. He bit his lip so hard it tore open, and he shook so hard the chair rattled. He had been reduced to a frightened six-year-old boy in the body of a full grown man, but he fought back tears in front of this terrible man.
“I told you to look at it.”
Jay barely shook his head. “No.” he whispered, in the voice of an upset, defiant little boy.
“Fine,” said Steven, feigning the sound of defeat. He continued to pace, and twirled the gun around on his index finger while he whistled. He faced the wall opposite of Jay and stopped. Slowly, he turned around. He suddenly lifted the gun and struck Jay’s cheek with it. Jay could taste the blood filling up in his mouth.
Steven bent over and lifted Jay’s heavy head by his chin. “You better look at the fucking screen,” he said, very calmly.
Jay looked up slowly, mouth open and dripping with blood, eyes half open. He spat on the ground and then studied the monitor. His girlfriend was still there, still bound to a chair. She was barely clothed, and what little she was wearing was severely torn, like someone had tried to rip it off. Her face was bruised, and she seemed to be sobbing softly.
Jay wept quietly, hoping Steven didn’t hear. “Oh God,” he whispered. “What the fuck did you do to her?”
Steven laughed. He stood taller and looked proud. He displayed the smirk of a boy with a story for the locker room, ready for high-fives and pats on the back from the other, less-experienced boys.
“I shouldn’t tell you. You’d just be jealous.” He was still smiling.
“Y-y-you… w-w-while she was . . . tied, like that?”
“That’s the only way I could get her to stay still for me.” While he said this he looked straight into Jay’s eyes, shining the bright light only Jay could see.
And there was that burning again. Straight through. Thunder and drums until his ears bled. For a few minutes he couldn’t hear, he couldn’t move, couldn’t see or think. Then the drums gradually faded and the fog lifted.
“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” Jay used all of his strength to try to break away from the chair. He pulled on the rope and stomped on the ground and shook all about, but only managed to break one of the chair legs.
Steven backed up. “If you get up I’ll just put a bullet in both your heads.” He had all confidence now that Jay wouldn’t continue to try to break free. Jay slumped over and was still again, staring down at his shoes, now weeping heavily.
“Aw, isn’t that sweet,” Steven said, “You think you love her.” His sympathy sounded genuine. He slowly advanced towards Jay, and knelt down so they could speak eye-to-eye. He tilted Jay’s head up, but Jay still looked away even now.
“Listen to me Jay”, Steven began, “You don’t love her, okay? I love her, I have always loved her. She never meant to leave me, I’ve convinced her it was a mistake. She loves me now, she doesn’t give a fuck about you. She never did. I would never be unfaithful to her, never. She’s the only woman I’ve ever made love to.”
Jay shook his head so hard his neck cracked.
“I don’t think she’d call that ‘making love’. I don’t think the police would either,” muttered Jay, saliva and blood ran onto his chin.
Now Steven struck the other cheek, but Jay couldn’t feel anything
“Well the police won’t fucking find out, will they?”
Steven stared off into the monitor, and then glanced back at Jay.
“I tried to kill myself once,” Steven talked looking at the gun. “But my parents walked in the room. Have you ever tasted a gun before?”
Steven laughed hysterically. He pressed his lips to Jay’s ear, grasped the back of his neck, and loudly he whispered, “It’s not even loaded. This whole time, empty gun, the whole time, the whole damn time.” Again he laughed, and this time Jay laughed with him. They laughed so hard they both got dizzy.
Steven stood up. “Ha ha ha! See, watch-- ha ha-- watch this!”
He put the gun in his mouth, giggling so hard his eyes were watering and gleeful tears streamed over cheeks that were fixed in a smile. His teeth chattered and his chest shook. He pulled the trigger and the laughter suddenly ceased. He leaned on the wall behind him and slowly fell down against it, leaving a mess on the wall. His eyes were open and stuck on Jay.
“Oh. Oh shit.” Jay whispered. He struggled with the chair, pulled on the ropes and tried break pieces of it. Suddenly another leg gave out, and the chair fell over. His head hit the dirty floor hard.
Thunder was too loud this time. Fog was dark, it was heavy. The light burned out his eyes. He yelled for help until he spat up blood, but no one was coming for him.
|READER'S REVIEWS (1)
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"Nice little piece of work. Good pacing. I could almost feel the tension between Jay and Steve. The prose could use a bit of tightening, though. Been writing long? " -- W. N. Dayley, USA.
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© 2006 Danielle
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