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A Few Short Stories

 
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7/3/2008 0:05:15   
Clyde
Legendary Artist!


Thanks Bro


His steps splashed as he raced through every shallow puddle riddled along his path. To him it felt like his legs were clashing against an unstable surface as his left foot tripped up a little across the oily pavement. Another street corner passed as he dashed around it quickly. The clouds had already started to engulf the neighborhood nearby and, with each passing moment, the area became darker. It wasn’t a embracing darkness, but one that he tried to avoid his whole life.

His body kept a fluid motion as he ran, constantly looking forward and only forward. He wanted to look back, but just imagining the faces of those he had hurt made him tear up. Lines upon lines of numbers ran through his mind as he passed each abode. At house number 755, he stopped in his tracks before he approached the half-paved walkway. His blank expression remained glaring at the front of the house - a dull, tan house with only two floors and a few coffee grind-colored windows.

He bolted through the door swiftly before wiping his wet shoes against the welcome mat and dashing up the stairs. Having passed through his parents' room undetected, he lightly tossed his school bag against the wall. Dropping onto his single bed, he glanced at the clock, reading 1:35. His compact room felt even smaller as he contemplated the next few moments. Specific questions continued to enter his mind as he looked back at the door. Questions like, Is the school going to call because I ditched early? and, Have they found out that I’m home yet? He heard his father’s voice roar throughout the house; it was a sound of displeasure.

“He did what now!?” It became apparent he was speaking to the school’s secretary, "Don’t worry, he will surely get that detention and will be on time!" With that, he hung up the phone and slammed it against the kitchen counter. After his father began storming up the stairs, the boy rolled onto the other side of his bed and laid straight against the floor, almost completely hidden from view by the lines of his mattress.

He flinched when he heard his father approaching his room. Damn, he thought as he quietly connected his palm to his face. My book bag…Maybe he won’t notice… An uncomfortable silence followed quickly as his presence closed in.

“Son…” The voice echoed from down the hall. He opened his eyes to see that no one was near; he sighed in genuine relief and gratefulness. Though he was safe, he noticed that his father was at his younger brother’s room. Past all the furious yelling, he knew his younger brother couldn’t take any more punishment. He leapt up and over his bed, stopping face-first at his door. ""Should I really take the heat for him? He is annoying, but Dad also said that if he continued to fail, he will end up sent to Military school." He sighed after taking a step into the hallway, “Dad…”

His father stopped yelling long enough to notice that he was being called. “What are you doing home?” Unknowingly his face showed every emotion no kid ever wanted to see. “Answer me, son. What are you doing home so early?”

After swallowing his fear, he spoke up. To him it felt like he swallowed a handful of rusty iron nails and when he tried to speak it sounded like he was mute. “I ditched school early today because I sort of got in a fight…” His younger brother just stared at him speechlessly, trying to grasp what was going on around him with his short arms until, he looked his father in the eye.

“Well then.” His tone dimmed down just slightly, but the dire hatred within his eyes still burned images into his youngest son’s mind. “I’ll deal with you later.” The faint connection between his youngest son and himself shattered to pieces as he redirected his anger to his other son, “Now as for you…” As his father dragged him away by his arm, he looked back at his younger brother with a grin upon his face. His little brother had seen that stare once before in his life.

One day after school he saw his younger brother being attacked by two other bullies. They had to be at least twice his age and size and still continued to take swings at him. Soon enough he came and shoved them away from his sibling and ended up taking a few fists to the face as well. Through the sunlight that was fading behind the trees his little brother saw that same bloody grin as he walked off with a teacher.

After he went downstairs his little brother just continued to stare at the silvery carpeting. Within his head he imagined his older brother being dragged down into the very depths of hell, but deep within his heart he felt like he himself should be there instead.

“Thanks…bro…”

< Message edited by Clyde E. -- 7/3/2008 0:06:03 >
Post #: 1
7/3/2008 0:10:03   
Clyde
Legendary Artist!


Greed: A Double-edged Sin

He had always been the self-ish type, the one who could never would have enough. Though isn’t human nature to want more, to want something better? No, the type of sin he bore, was the sin of Greed. When someone got a present or a toy, he had to one better. He’d always push his parents to the point of near insanity as he begged on and on for more and more. Other people would only stand in awe as this kid made his way through life with nothing, but a squealing voice and an obnoxious cry. The sight of this disgusted most as they, on the other side of the roulette had to work all their lives just to get where they are at. Isn’t that a truly a great feeling? While those high rolling rich trash laughed at the way life didn’t get to them, others just hoped that something would turn the fates. Well isn’t that cute? No matter what happens, no matter what time, no matter what you do their will be a cost. Just like gambling right?

Anyways back to that self-ish kid. One day he created a little doodle, it wasn’t anything spectacular, but other people came bye and complimented him on his work. (Let’s just call it employees who like to brown noise themselves some more cash to feed their families.) Then this other kid painted something, it was amazing it was something that a kid shouldn’t know how to draw yet at his age. The self-ish brat became upset with jealously and grabbed a paint brush and began painting. A crowd of kids no older then 2nd graders started to developed around the self-ish painter.

Suddenly the other kid began playing with some clay and made some sculpture like design. The crowd moved to him and was in awe of what it looked like. There were statements like: “It looks like a city,” muttered a little boy. “No a giraffe!” remarked a high pitched girl. The brat became angry and also created a clay sculpture, but this time he went low. He paid off most of the kids with his lunch money to come to comment his artwork and it worked. Though this was happening the other kid didn’t care, he just continued drawing. He even offered to teach others kids how to paint a yellow a sun.

The teacher came by and handed the kid a golden star and said, “Here you go, you deserved it.” One day the spoiled brat gave up and trying to out do the artist until one day he lazily threw together a bunch of blocks. The little artist came up to him and said, “That’s a sweet castle you got there.” Then he walked off with a smile and not a care in the world. The kid didn’t know how to respond, but still never changed his ways.
Post #: 2
7/3/2008 0:11:52   
Clyde
Legendary Artist!


The Banshee's Wail

She was beautiful, her presence was almost god-like. Whenever she'd smile it felt like...like my troubles would melt away into a puddle of happiness and joy. Imagine an iceberg up against raging fire; right, it wouldn't happen. Her raven-esque hair reflected the light to emit a serene glow that warmed my heart. Those eyes of hers would always have me wrapped in their emblazing violet ambiance. I couldn't help, but stay happy at her. Never a sad thought or any other negative emotion entered my mind. She was the highlight of my life, the light of my day. No matter what happened she would always be there holding me in her arms. I’d comfort her and she would comfort me as through each day we lived.

It was like heaven for me to even to be thought about in her mind made me feel special inside. I felt like I could never leave her no matter what and I didn’t. On her whim I’d go around the world just for her and her only. Most would called me obsessive, but I’d call them all jealous at what I had and what they didn’t.

We were both young and in love and this wasn’t just another crazy fling. This love, was my love and her affection, was my affection. Nothing could ruin this, not even the mightiest of Gods could separate us. Ha, those people who thought I was foolish. Well they were foolish for not finding someone like my Goddess.

A few years later we got married and settle down in nice castle far off from the war and chaos. We remained happy and merry for the years to come. Our kids became adults and went off into the adventuring world as I use to. Then we became old and retired from everything except relaxing and resting.

The chuckles of an old man breaks the story, until he begins to cough. Then blood began to cough up onto the black and damp pavement of the streets of the town. Afterwards the old man rests back into his place underneath nothing, but a home-made tent sewn from old and tattered capes and shirts. This was rested and strapped upon a few boxes stacked to create something close to home. The rain didn’t make anything better and only made things worse.

“Heh, what I fool I was back then.” The old man said as his eyes became a dull and listless white. “It was all a trick, a ruse. She was really a life draining banshee, stealing my life away slowly within in an illusion. I’ll admit it was an elaborate plan and it worked nicely.” He began coughing again non-stop until someone gave him a good slap on the back. “Thank you kid sir,” he said as he cleared his throat to speak again. “I was really trapped within an illusion that was set up perfectly as she sucked the life rite out of me. Sometimes I wished that this was only a nightmare and when I woke up there’d be that beautiful goddess I fell in love with oh so long ago. My, my she was something…”

His breathing stopped as he finally slipped in death’s hands.
Post #: 3
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