Chewing On Glass Presents: Chasing Darkness…

Things aren’t quite the way they used to be. Things change fact of life and death. Even if we can change those facts like I have. Things still very much change. I no longer know who I am or what I have become. I’m not what most people would consider normal. Well to be honest most would consider me to be eccentric. They always have from every moment that I can remember. Strange not normal. Broken and not equal. Different in every sense of the word. They were right of course, but I guess chasing endless winter is not most people’s idea of a good time. Not most people’s idea of where I should be or what I should be doing. But I like the isolation, the cold, the loneliness of it all. It helps me think and that is all they really want from me in the end. They want me to think for them. To create for them. Being out here in the nothing makes me feel more alive than a room full of people sucking up to my money. Yes, I am rich. Richer than most nations to be exact. To be fair though that isn’t saying much considering most nations didn’t go with technology. The choice was too easy to follow me, to invest in my ideas. Man is flawed in that way. Self-doubt, too easy can’t be the right way. Must resist and so they did. Investing in war and death. I shouldn’t have to tell you how that turned out. But history, stories they are summaries of things we already know.

Turns out bombs don’t feed people or build homes or take care of you when you get old. No, bombs only have one purpose and they do that function very well. But robots? My robots? They can do so much more than kill. Most nations fallen to the way side, disappeared off the map of everything including people’s minds. The advancements were swift, they were quick. I discovered a loop hole that we had missed. Any easy option no one believed to exist. Greatly enhanced soldiers that feel no pain, targeting systems that can target any and everything you may desire, and a defense systems so advanced that it would make nuclear war less of a fear and more of an annoyance. Whole nations wiping themselves out before the missiles even left the ground. Only took a few of these “brave and fearless leader” to wipe themselves out before all nuclear missiles were deemed obsolete. In fact less bombs destroyed whole nations then had ever been tested in the history of any nuclear program. I didn’t just make the world better. I saved humanity and everything with it. These were only the beginnings of my ideas. Yes, my pockets were lined with dirty dollars of anyone who was willing to pay for protection. This is capitalism at its finest. This is everything that we once believed in. Things they change even if we don’t think that they can.

What is left of Christianity would blame faith in false idols and other dated terms for what was coming. Yes, I am that old. Faith can come to us at any moment, but it can not change in an instant. It is enduring like that unlike nations. The faithful fought the next wave of advancements. Pushed my patience beyond their limits. I grew bored with enhancing nations to the highest bidder. It was time to take my ideas to the people. Take it beyond the surface of what I knew and go deeper. Humans are a flawed design. Boasting about how we are the greatest at everything. Spreading lies beyond the fabric of what we know to be true, but I knew with my help. I could make all our lies, all our fables, all our faith in ourselves. I knew that I could make them true. My advancements in nano tech and hybrid parts brought the revolution to the people. Put everything in their hands to do with as they wished. So long as they paid. So long as they understood what it was they were getting into. They didn’t, but it didn’t matter. Humans adapt to ideas they don’t understand. It is a slow process, but they accept the way things are eventually or they die off. Evolution sits as a theory, but the problem is we understand it better than we think. We accept it as truth even as we question its very existence. Deep down we already knew. We have always known what is that we are, where we come from, and how it will all go. There may be no all-seeing god, but something moves us to follow blindly. I will give them that. No one, not even myself can be as arrogant to not believe in a purpose.

The fall was coming. Everything I had created was going to turn. Human history is riddle with stories similar to mine. Roman Empire, the Chinese Dynasties, early man, and the list could follow us all the way to today. Life doesn’t stop under the wheel of change. It grows stronger. Picking up speed until we no longer understand what it is that we have created. A bump in the road, a great fall, but this one was different. This one was not like the rest. Unlike the falls of the past, the missteps that lead to something else. This one changed the game. Changed the world and the human race. We moved past everything we thought we knew. We became something greater than ourselves. The ones that were left that is. The advancements I made in human tech changed the game. We became one with the robots. Equal to my creations. Working side by side until we cleaned up everything. We needed something more though. We always need something more. We looked to the skies once again. Except this time we knew that we were ready to face any and all challenges. No longer a dream, but the next step in our evolution. My evolution, my purpose in this world. For the first time in human history people are too busy thinking. Thinking of ways to make everything better rather than how to destroy. For the first time in human history everyone is thinking like me.

That is why I live here alone like this. That is why among other things I do what I do. I feel this need to distance myself from them. I feel this over encumbering need to be as far away from them as I can. The wind howls outside of my cabin. A few more days left of darkness and the chase will begin again. The world advancing by the minute and my wealth grows. The owner of this world, my empire, lives in near darkness studying the sky for the lost planet no one’s even hear of yet. Trying to make sense of my purpose in this world.

This fucking story… This story didn’t start out like this at all… the original draft was trash… an idea that I didn’t know was there until I looked a lot deeper… So I worked on it… worked with it… typed up the whole thing on my phone… had it all amazing… had it to a point that I thought was good… then technology and my stupidity fucked me… While trying to transfer the file from my phone to my computer… using all the great advancements that Google bestowed onto us… I lost the whole thing…

Back to step one… and I was fucking pissed… I’m still pissed and it has been over a week… still pissed and I have rewritten the whole thing for a second time… but it is over and done?… I just read it… why are you so pissed?… Who cares?… you are right but it doesn’t matter… I’m pissed because the story was vastly different… and how it was different I don’t know… but I know… I write by the seat of my pants… I write until it is done… I purge the thoughts and move on… so if it isn’t written down… saved somewhere… I have no idea what it was that I even said…

So… all that work… all that effort… gone in a flash… and like this character all I think about is progression… not going back… But I had to go back… I had to finish this story… redo this story… because I needed this story for two other stories in this cycle… woke up today… and got it done… It isn’t that bad actually… still pretty pissed that I had to do it again… but for all I know… it might have all been for the best… destruction and loss… may have all been for the best… or maybe it wasn’t… “Faith can come to us at any moment, but it can not change in an instant”

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter...

Chewing On Glass Presents… Just Breathe…

It all shatters right there in front of me. Glass, steel, two moving objects going at what feels like a thousand miles an hour. Was it? Is that how it really was? Everything so slow a miss perception of time and place. Memories shifting in and out of place. Two thoughts as though they don’t exist. Two people caught in time. There was more than two? I wasn’t driving was I? No, I was standing. Standing still as if I wasn’t even there. I no longer was there was I? I disappeared somewhere in myself. Took myself right out of there. Right out of my own thoughts and feelings. But I remember the glass.

It bounced off my face but I didn’t feel its pain. The screams all around me with no sound. Faces moving in panic, mouths open in horror, mouths open without any sound. The smell of tires and burning engines but I wasn’t even there. Where was I? Where was I standing motionless? The corner of sixth and Wellington. The burning sensation? The coffee in my hand. Two cream, less sugar. I need less sugar in my diet. Too much sugar in the coffee. Tasted too sweet, my last thoughts before the flood. The last real thought before everything took over. 

People all around me. Fingers bloody, I reach out for those in front of me. Was I crying? The ground hard against my side. Everything hard to remember. Everything a blur of thoughts and emotions. Was I sad? I was very sad. No one to go home to. Family out of town and I’m stuck here working. Lonely, am I alone now? Everything is so dark. Can’t tell if I am seeing or dreaming. The merger did it go through? Important business and I’m late, but I stopped for coffee anyway. So tired, so lonely without them. They went on holiday to see our extended family. Parents, grandparents, brothers, and sisters. Family I find missing more now than ever.

Out of town. Where out of town? The roses, Fedele’s roses always smelled the sweetest. The smell of innocence and purity on my hands as I hold the flowers. Was this real? Am I there now? No, I don’t know. I see them now the flowers, but all I can smell is engines. The smell of gasoline. I taste it on my tongue. Bitter like dirty metal, hot. Were they hot? Where am I if I’m not there? Screeching tires, metal collapsing, and my ears still ringing. My ears still buzzing with that hum. Am I alive or am I dead? 

Is death just nothingness or am I only in between? So many questions and no one to answer. So cold like saline going in. Washes over me, that time I was sick. Food poisoning, bad chicken, not enough fluids in me. Am I bleeding? Why can’t I breathe? Try to breathe. Gasping but it’s not working. Inhaling but nothing is happening. A rush of pain. Nerves on end. Nerves on fire. My eyes open, flood of light, emotions. “Just breathe,” the voice says. “Just breathe.” But I can’t. 

I often thinking of dying… unsure if that is normal… might be… is for me… though unlike what I write about dying… is not how I think about dying… often when I think about dying… I don’t think about anything other than the nothingness of it all… the idea that I can do nothing… say nothing… only watch as everything around me moves on…

The thought tortures me… burdened by the idea that it just won’t shut off… that somehow after death everything keeps going… bothers me… I want the world to keep going… I’m not that selfish… I just don’t want to have to watch it happen without me… without all the things I want to do before I die… left unfinished… to watch my daughter grow up… start a family… live her life… and all I can do is watch… at the very same time… the flip of the coin… I don’t want to think about how I will never see any of that… that it will all just end… that was me… and lets move on…

Death above all things… is nothing that anyone can avoid… I just wish I could stop thinking about it… fearing it… but then again… I’d be out of a career if I did… no one ever said I wasn’t complicated…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Chewing On Glass Presents: A Story Never Told…

“What the hell are you even doing up at this hour?” A voice asks with a yawn. I bang on the door harder and harder. “Ain’t no one want to see you in there. Hell I see you and I don’t even want to,” the homeless man moans. “Shut up you stupid vagrant. As a matter of fact someone in there really does want to see me,” I inform him. “Oh, really? That why you have been out here for a better part of an hour messing up my sleep? The only fact I see around here is that no one wants your ass around. So why don’t you go ahead and give it a rest so I can get some rest. Got an early morning. I’m a busy man,” the homeless man mumbles that last bit but I still here him through it all. I stop banging on the door and I’m ready to bang on something else. I raise my fists, “One more word old man and I’ll see to it that you get plenty of rest.” The homeless man giggles. He giggles at me. I can feel my anger and frustration rising. “Don’t go starting trouble when troubles already found you. Take my advice. I didn’t end up here by design,” the man preaches. I start to take the steps down to his garbage bed when a familiar sweet voice takes a hold. “He’s right you know?” Her voice cutting through the commotion. All I wanted from her was an acknowledgement that I was even there. “I’ll ring you in. I guess we need to talk,” she says from the second floor window. I turn back towards the door. “Are you sure Miss Kelly?” The vagrant asks. “Of course she is sure,” I snap at the man. “There you go starting trouble again. I ain’t afraid of you. Honestly I ain’t got nothing left to lose,” the homeless man smiles a toothless grin before putting up his fists. “Yes, I’m sure Frank, but if I change my mind.” “I’ll be right here miss Kelly,” Frank finishes for her. She smiles and moves away from the window. Moments later I hear the sound of the door buzzing and I head inside. Frank lies back down on his makeshift bed, “Can’t get no peace and quiet. Thoughts this was a good neighborhood. God damn kids with their drama.”

I ascend the stairs rapidly. A flight of stairs in an instant. There is much to say and who knows how long to say it. The door is cracked and waiting for me when I get there. I take in a large breath. Be cool Miles. Be cool I tell myself one more time before knocking on the door. She is waiting just on the other side as I enter. “May I ask what is so important you have to disturb me and the whole neighborhood at 3 am?” She starts right at the door way. There are so many things that I want to say. All at once, but only one thing I should say. “I’m sorry,” is the only thing to come out. “Sorry for what? What you did or disturbing everyone? Because only one of those things can be fixed with an, I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m sorry for all of it. I’m sorry I’m here so late disturbing you and everyone else. I’m sorry for what I did earlier. I’m sorry for a lot of things,” I say searching for my words. “Yes, you should be,” she informs me watching my reaction. “Your sorry has come too late I’m afraid. They are useless at this point and are no longer any good here,” she pauses for a moment to let it sink in her eyes very different from all the other times. “Kelly please,” I interrupt. “Kelly please what? Forgive you again and again? Damnit Miles you can’t just keep messing up and thinking I will forgive you later for it. You can only play a song so many times before it becomes background noise,” her eyes like fire. I step closer to her. I let her speak her mind and now I have to try the one move I have left. If I can get her in my arms I know she will change her mind. I’m greeted by an open hand on my chest, “Not this time Miles. We are done,” she says sternly. “This is the last time I swear,” I reach for the hand on my chest. She quickly moves it away before I can even touch her one last time. “You said that two times ago and every time before. Let me say this so you understand. I am done and this is the last time I am going to tell you,” she locks eyes with me. “But?” I try to say. I’m at a loss of words. “It’s time for you to leave and I’m not asking. I’m telling you,” she commands with her finger extended towards the stairs. I look her in the eyes one last time before doing as I was told. There comes a time in any battle where winning is losing either way so there is only one thing to do. I turn and walk my new path. I hear the door close behind me and the door’s lock click over as I reach the stairs. “I didn’t mean it,” I say to an empty audience. From behind the door she breathes a heavy, “I know,” before a tear falls to the ground.

I leave the apartment building at the slowest speed. Lost in thought. What have I done this time? What have I given up for nothing? Questions I only have excuses for but no answers. I pass by the vagrant known only as Frank. “Out in your ass I see. You ain’t the only one. Join the club as they say,” he lets out a small laugh. The street goes silent as I walk down the block. A coldness washes over me. Where I am off too. I really don’t know.

What a love story?… am I in the right place?… sure are… a bit different from what I normally write… minus the strong woman character… the darkness… and the absences of a story… this was very much an experiment piece… one where I tried to write about emotions with no real context… oddly enough this one was written in third person perspective and I switched it… Actual Meaning started out in first person and I switched to third… proof that not every story starts and ends the way you think it will…

Everything goes through a couple of drafts… I won’t bore you with all the changes and story shifts… this story did take more time… way more time then it should have… a couple of years actually… yeah you read that right… let me get this straight… I didn’t obsess over this story for years… I wrote it and filed it away… I write or start writing things all the time… come back later and rewrite the whole thing… then file it away again… sometimes the ideas come and other times they are nothing more than a thought… that all sounds confusing… see a thought…

I spend different time on different things… these final thoughts at the end… a rambling commentary of what I am thinking right here and now… the stories take on different layers as I drag myself through life… I believe that is the point I am trying to make… but I barely know what the hell I am thinking at any given moment… dragging my corpse on…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Chewing On Glass Presents: Actual Meaning

“I think I lost it,” he exhales. “Lost what?” She asks without facing him. “The ability to write. The ability to say anything of actual meaning,” he stares into the nothing that surrounds her. “Why do you suppose that is?” She asks as if she doesn’t care. “Because I let it rot itself out. I let it go to shit for no reason. Now it festers there with everything that I try to say. Every idea, every thought slowly rotting away at me with nothing to say,” he tries to explain. “Well can’t you get it back if it is right there. Allow yourself time to heal so to speak?” She asks almost robotically, almost of she is on rails with her lack of concern. “No, I can’t because in its absence life got in the way. My brain got in the way. Spread the infection deeper and deeper. Everything, what little I once had is now gone. I am lost in my own empathy with nowhere to go. It is as though my life has become one of my stories. It has become a nightmare,” he rationalizes starring deeper into the nothing. She turns to him breaking his concentration, “The answer is simple then.” He stares into her eyes. Where have I seen those eyes before? “Oh really and what’s that?” He asks while he wonders about something else. She doesn’t break eye contact as she speaks. “Why don’t you simply wake up?” She asks in the most serious of tones.

“Jesus Alan, what’s with the screaming?” A woman he has never seen shouts at him. The words woke him without ever feeling asleep. Confused on how or what is happening he looks around him. “Right here asshole. You’ve only been in a coma for three weeks it’s not like it was a lifetime,” she barks at him. They are sitting in what he assumes is her office. She is dressed in a business suit as she moves papers around on her desk. The room fills very high up and the sun is pouring through the windows. Is this my editor? He wonders. She snaps her fingers breaking his concentration. Where have I seen those eyes before? He wonders. There is a glass of water on the desk. He reaches for the glass but he doesn’t understand why. Everything feels played out. Almost rehearsed. He watches his arm move in slow motion to pick up the glass. The glass feels almost unreal in his hand. The water doesn’t move as he lifts up the glass. It doesn’t sweat. It doesn’t feel like anything. It is almost as if the glass is empty and full at the same time. The stranger slaps his hand and the glass falls to the floor. The glass doesn’t shatter and it doesn’t spill. “Don’t drink that your body isn’t ready. As for who I am and how you got here. Well that’s simple,” she smiles. “It is?” He asks confused. She snaps again. “You want the longer version or the short version? She asks. He thinks over what she is asking. Watching the glass sit perfectly still on its side. “Long I guess. There’s something wrong with your,” he tries to get out but she cuts him off. She speaks in rapid tones of noises and what seem like made up words. He watches as her face mouths the words and the light in the room goes from day to night and back to day when she stops suddenly. She exhales a long breath.

“Basically you tried to kill yourself and I’m you only I’m the female you and even then I’m just made up pieces of all the females you have wanted or dreamed of being with,” she sums up. “All the women? Where the hell am I?” He asks as layer upon layer of confusion sets in. “Check it out. Two different people,” she says ignoring his questioning of this reality. She leans her body over the desk so he can get a better look of her face. “Two different people,” she moves her head side to side. “Well really more like twenty, but face wise two. Pretty cool huh?” She asks without asking. He sits there silently studying her face. Two very different people he thinks. “Well I think it is cool. I can tell you have no idea what is happening, but do we really have to be stuck in this office all day? We can really go anywhere we want and yet we are here?” She asks. “I don’t understand what is going on,” is all he can say. She snaps her fingers and the room changes in a blink of an eye. They are on a beach. Endless sand, but no water. Only the sound of the waves crashing around them. Their clothes have changed and she notices him staring at her. “Yeah this breast situation isn’t ideal. To be honest it is a tad bit awkward,” she moves her chest closer so he can see in an innocently suggestive manner. One breast is very much bigger than the other one. “One double D and the other an A. Yeah you are seeing that in real time. Do you have an idea how difficult it is to find a bra in these dimensions? Let alone what it is like on a date? Well it is a lot like it is now,” she sighs. “No, I’m sorry but I created you?” He seems to be questioning himself more than asking. She looks side to side as if to make sure no one is around. Only adding to his confusion. “Yeah, you did. Do you see anyone else around?” She asks. “How could I have done this?” He asks. “What? Create everything around us or mess up my breasts? Flip of the coin really,” she says sarcastically. “You don’t have to be like that. I’m having a really hard time processing all of this,” he states. “I know I can feel it,” she says in a worried tone. “You need to calm down. Close your eyes and think of something else. Whatever you want.” He does as he is told. Closing his eyes and trying to relax. Relax in the darkness of his mind. “Sweet you fixed my breasts. Thank you, thank you,” she exclaims with glee. He opens his eyes and the bright sun blinds him at first. He winces and has he does clouds begin to form in the sky. Bringing down the intensity of the light until he is comfortable. “Is this heaven?” He asks with a smile. “This? No, fuck no. What made you think this was heaven?” She asks. “Well I control everything seems to be the obvious answer,” he states. She sighs, “Well first off I don’t know much more than anything than you know as I am you. But last we knew or you knew or whatever. God controls heaven and you aren’t God so, one could easily assume based on what you do and don’t know that this is in fact not heaven. Make sense?” She asks. He shakes his head, “No, not even a little bit.” She shrugs her shoulders. “That’s it? That’s your answer?” He asks. “Pretty much,” she states openly. “So I’m not in heaven. I’m just in a shoulder shrug. Awesome makes sense,” he says. “You are focusing way too much on things that don’t matter. This is literally nothing. Physically it is nothing. It feels like something, the sand, but it is all nothing,” she states. He turns to look around him. Watching as he changes his surroundings in an instant with only a thought. Watches as towering trees take over the sky. The sound of the waves still crashing in the background.

“Why am I here instead of someplace else?” He asks her. “Because from what I know you were kind of an asshole and even you have admit a tad bit selfish,” she answers her voice coming from behind him. “I’m not an asshole and I’m definitely not selfish,” he snaps back. “Oh really? You’ve been here maybe, well you’ve been here a long time, but you’ve only been here in this part of nothing for five minutes, and when you decided to fix my breasts you went with two D’s rather than two A’s. Hell you could have made me a man, but you didn’t. You chose to keep me as a woman. Asshole in my book,” she tells him. “I’m not an asshole okay?” He turns to face her only to find her completely naked and starring back at him. “I guess you aren’t selfish either?” She asks as though nothing has changed. “You tried to kill yourself and left everyone behind to shift through the mountain of shit you left behind. No one asked for that. No one wanted that, and yet here we are,” she states. She sits down on the newly formed grass that has appeared before them, “I’m going to let you think about that for a moment.” She sits with herself exposed pulling the blades of grass by her feet one by one as he watches her. In an instant she is fully clothed, “I’m not an asshole and you can’t talk to me like that.” She doesn’t even bother to look up at him. “Like a broken record this one. At least you haven’t tried to touch me this time,” she says under her breath. “And if you aren’t then why do you think you have been here so long?” She confronts him holding up the blades of grass in the form of a crown. “You are in control of this and all of this, and still you have no idea what is going on?” She stands up and all the blades of grass scatter across the ground. “I don’t know,” he shouts in frustration. “I wake up in an office, then I’m on a beach, and now I’m in a massive forest with you every step of the way. I don’t know what is going on,” he screams as the world around him shakes. “They said, well you said, well they mentioned,” she says as though she can not think. “They said that you were like a TV constantly flipping between channels,” she finally gets out. “Do you honestly believe that made any sense or somehow answered a single question in my head?” He snaps back. “Yep I do because like I said I am you so, if I think it or say it, it is because you already believe it. None of this is new. We’ve had this conversation a hundred, a hundred and fifty times, but it ends the same every time. Think about what you were thinking about before you woke up,” she touches his face gently tracing the outline.

“I think I lost it,” he says to her. “Lost what?” She asks from behind a desk. “The ability to write. The ability to say anything of actual meaning.” He stares into the nothing that surrounds her. “Why do you suppose that is?”

I hope you enjoyed this story… The first one of this cycle… tried to come out strong… never know how anything will turn out until it posts… Chewing On Glass will be presenting a wide variety of stories this cycle… trying to express the wide spectrum of emotions that I am made of… also trying a few things out… trying to get better at all of this… Want to get better at third person perspective… not my go to style… As with trying anything new… there is a lot of trepidation… but don’t worry… things will always be dark… it is where I live after all… can shed your skin over and over… but you can never shed where you are from…

So what the fuck was this even about?… with the dark theme of suicide… trippy ass locations that don’t make any sense… (If you liked this aspect of the story… wait until I release my next short story book… there is a story in there that takes this theme to the max…)… This story was actually not about any of those things… well it was on the surface… the real theme and inspiration for this story was writers block…

This story was about the annoyance of trying to write something over and over for it to only turn out to be shit… the ups and down of how our brains work… feeling trapped yet knowing you have all the tools to escape… wanting to smash your head into a wall to get the ideas out… only to know that it would do nothing in the end… it was a tricky story to write without giving away all the cards… so in the absence of thought and the frustration of writing nothing of actual meaning… I came up with this story…

As usual my favorite character is the woman… I love her care free… give no fucks… this is how it is attitude… writing bad ass… strong women are my favorite characters to write… I love the idea that in this story… for me at least… that there is this duality of her… she is the one in control… yet has no control at all… a pawn and the ruler of the kingdom… a guide and the true representation of it all… “Hell you could have made me a man, but you didn’t”… That line to me… was a turning point in the story where the main character begins to really question everything beyond the surface… there are moments about questioning everything really because that is what the story is all about… questioning ones thoughts and trying to find actual meaning behind nothing at all…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter...

The Memorial Day Incident

                “Just a little bit further Jason we need to get a good spot for your first parade.” The woman pulls her son through the crowd. The child looks scared and continues to mumble louder and louder after each person he brushes past. “What are you saying Jason?” The mother stops to hear her son in the large crowd. “I raped that little girl and it burns in my mind. I wonder if she even remembers, but she was so drunk she probably doesn’t,” the little boy says. “What are you talking about Jason?” the mother shrieks in horror. “I don’t like the crowd mom can we go back to the car?” “What were you saying before Jason?” “I didn’t say anything before mommy,” the boy says confused. The woman crouches down to be face to face with her son, “Yes you did and you should never repeat whatever it is you just said. You are much too young to be using those words or to even know them.” “What words? Are you mad at me?” The woman stands up and takes her child into her arms, “Never mind, I’m not mad at you sweetie.”  “Can we go back to the car?” the child asks once again. The woman puts him back on the ground. “Yes we can go back to the car,” she says disappointed. “We just have to go back through the crowd. Can you do that?” The little boy nods his head yes and she takes his hand once again. They start to make their way through the crowd and almost immediately he begins to mumble again as he slips by people in the crowd. This time however it is a different woman that hears him not his mother. “What did he just say?” the stranger asks his mother. “Sorry?” she asks the stranger. “What did your son just say to me?” Confused Jason’s mother tells the woman, “Nothing he doesn’t know what he is saying. The crowd is making him very nervous and scarred.” “That’s no excuses for lying about my father like that,” the stranger says in anger. “What?” Jason’s mother asks. “Your little bastard kid just said my dad like to touch me in my sleep and that I liked it. Which is bull shit lady my dad’s a fucking saint.” The crowd around them grows slowly quite to hear what they are saying. “Why is she yelling mom?” “Because she is confused,” his mother says while taking his hand again. “Fuck that I’m not confused your son is just a sick freak.” “Like I said he is scarred and nervous because of the crowd. He doesn’t know what he is saying and you are just making it worse for him.” “I’m making it worse?” the lady says while throwing up her arms. “I’ll show him what worse really is.” The stranger eyes the child as someone steps up to them. “Excuses me is there a problem here?” a uniformed police officer asks the two ladies. “Yes there is her fucking bastard child is making up stuff about my father and me.” “Ma’am the language is not appropriate. He is just a child he probably just doesn’t know what he said.”

The cop kneels down to be at Jason’s level. He places his hand on the child’s shoulder, “Why don’t you just say you’re sorry, and you and your lovely mother can enjoy the rest of the parade.” “I shot him because he was black. I knew he didn’t have a weapon, but I shot him anyways. What’s the world with one less black man? A better place,” Jason says to the cops face. The cop turns a lighter shade of pale, “Excuse me?” “Oh my god Jason I can’t believe you just said that. That is enough,” his mother says while picking him up. “I’m so sorry,” the mother tries to explain to the cop. The police officer ignores her. “That never happened. He had a gun so I shot him,” he says to himself. The crowd grows even quieter as the cop backs away from the mother and child. “Told you the kid was a freak,” the stranger says. “Shut up,” the officer says to the woman. The crowd murmurs while staring at the cop. “So what if he was black?” the cop asks while looking around at the people around him. “A criminal is a criminal and I did what I had to do to protect myself,” the cop mumbles to himself. “Mom I want to go home I’m scared.” Jason puts his head in the crook of his mother’s neck. He buries his head as deep as she begins to speak, “I’m just going to take my son home if that is okay with you officer. He didn’t mean what he said and doesn’t even know what he is saying.” The cop doesn’t look up as he speaks, “That is probably for the best ma’am.”

The mother turns to walk through the crowd once again. Two people in front of the crowd move right out of the way making sure to not touch the child as they pass by. “That’s it,” the stranger shouts before throwing her arms down and walking away. As his mother tries to go around a rather large man Jason’s dangling foot lightly touches the man’s arm. “I buried them under my house. The smell is starting to get to me but in a way I like it,” Jason says. The man has a face of shock as he tries to move away without anyone noticing. Jason mother stops dead in her tracks as someone from the crowd shouts, “Someone get that man.” “Why I’ve done nothing the wrong here,” the man says while trying to push through the crowd that will not move. “Just because a child says something that makes it true?” the man asks the crowd. Jason’s mother sets her son back on the ground, “What did you do?” “I didn’t do anything,” the man says nervously. “This is Officer Johnson, I need back up on the intersection of Fifth and Jackson,” the officer says into his communicator. “Backup?” the man questions out loud. “There’s no need for backup I didn’t do anything.” The officer pulls his gun from its holster, “Please put your hands behind your head.” “Hey, watch it there trigger finger I didn’t do anything.” “Then you won’t mind putting your hands behind your head? I won’t ask again.” “Okay so some crazy fucking kid says something and we’re all going to believe him?” The crowd is still silent as the people behind the man slowly move away. “My son is not crazy. I don’t know what is wrong with him, but he is not crazy.” The man grabs her throat and begins to choke her. “Your son is crazy,” the man grips tighter on her throat, “Fucking say it.” The man pulls her in front of his body as the officer fires two rounds. The two shots hit her right in the chest. The man releases his grip on the woman’s throat as she falls to her knees. Jason’s mother coughs up blood as the officer also goes down to his knees.

The crowd begins to cry out and run in all directions, “Nice job officer dip shit. I guess we will just have to add another innocent death to your list.” Jason has not moved from his spot as he stands there stunned. The large stranger walks up to Jason and grabs him by the shoulders as he raises him high into the air. “Why did you do this you little brat?” the man screams as he shakes the child. Jason begins to cry out a mixture of mumbles and tears. “I sliced her open like she was a deer or some other wild animal.” “Shut up,” the man says as he shakes the child harder. “Put the kid down,” the officer tries to say but the words just fall to the ground. “Another, I fucked her while she bleed out all over my garage floor,” Jason begins to laugh but it is not the laughter of a child. “Shut the fuck up,” the man says as he wraps his powerful hands around Jason’s throat. The man squeezes as hard as he can as Jason fights to say something, “I prefer to asphyxiate my victims and I save it for the special ones.” Too weak to move Jason hangs there as the man begins to shake him once again, “I said shut up.” “Put the kid down,” the officer tries again. The officer rises to his feet, “What’s another dead piece of shit?” The cop fires all of the remaining bullets, but one into the man’s body. The cop takes the burning hot barrel and places it into his mouth blowing out the back of his head. Back up finally arrives on the scene to find all the dead people on the ground.

True fucking story I tell the people across from me. A few of them are my friends and a few of them aren’t.  They even have a name for what happened even though most of the people back home like to pretend it never happened. “What’s it called I’ll Google it right now?” a naïve girl asks from across the fire. “You won’t get any signal out here. We are in the middle of nowhere,” another girl says. “Okay whatever I’ll write it down and look it up later what was it called?” As dramatically as I can be I tell them what it was called. It is called the Memorial Day Incident. “What kind of fucking name for something is that? That stories such bull shit,” the girl says. “No it really happened,” a friend of mine says. “Okay then what happened to Jason?” I start to say something, before being cut off. “I want him to tell me,” she demands. “What happened to Jason? That’s what you want to know?” my friend asks. The girl nods her head, “Yeah what happened to Jason?” “Jason died that’s what happened to him. The large man shook him so hard that his neck snapped,” the friend explains as he looks over at me. “I still think it is all bull shit, but whatever. Who else has an actual scary story to tell?”

More short stories and stories like this can be found in Drinking Bleach… my book of short stories… now available on Amazon… check out some more cool stuff on Threadless… and tell me how much I suck over on Twitter… I feel so dirty… but my doctors tell me I have to eat… and to pay their bills… bunch of quacks if you ask me…

When There’s No More Room… Part 8…

A Pattern of Abuse

“Try again. Sound out the words,” his mother says holding back her frustration. “I know it can be difficult to read, but you have to learn.” She rubs the top of his head. The little boy looks over the page studying the images first and then the words. “The boy ex, escaped through the fa, fa,” he stops as a hand smacks him hard against his head. “Fire you dumb shit. It says fire,” his father barks. “Damn it James he was only trying to sound out the word,” his mother pleads. “Stupid doesn’t know how to read fire?” His father asks before taking another drink. “I ain’t raising no dumb illiterate asshole in this house. He ain’t going to add up to shit any way, but if he can’t read? Be even more worthless than he already is. Can’t be slow, fat, and stupid,” his father argues. “You are one to speak. You can barely,” his mother doesn’t finish the sentence as his father raises his hand. Tears begin to form in the boy’s eyes. “That’s right woman. Know your place,” his father says before finishing off his drink. The boy fights the urge to cry. He knows better than to show weakness. Fights even harder to not let his father see. “Are you crying?” His father asks. The boy tries even harder to make the emotions stop by looking down away from his father. His father grabs him by the back of the neck, “Those look like tears to me. I asked you a question. Are you crying?” Tears fall from the boy’s eyes. “No,” the boy yells. His father’s eyes light up. The spark that he needed. “James don’t. He didn’t mean it,” his mother pleads. “Bitch unless you want to be taught a lesson yourself I suggest you shut the fuck up and get me another drink.” His mother walks out of the room as the hand around his neck squeezes to the point he can barely breathe. “You don’t talk to me like that you little shit. Even got your mother acting stupid. Must be some kind of sickness going around here. Best to stomp this sickness right out before it spreads any further.”

James drags his son by the neck out of the room and down the basement stairs, “First you can’t even read. Now all of a sudden you the big man with the balls to talk to your father like that. You want to cry like a baby? We don’t cry in this family. You want to be a man? Act like one.” James throws his son against the cage across from the basement stairs. The boy’s body lands against the cage with a loud crash. Grabbing his side the boy cries harder as he lay against the dirt floor. “Get in the cage,” his father orders. Kicking the child in the back, “I said get in the cage. What are you deaf and dumb now? Don’t act like you don’t know what is happening.” The boy shakes in fear as he enters the cage. The cage door slams hard behind him as he falls to the dirty floor of the cage. Torn up bits of clothing and old rotten food surround him as he fights the pain in his side. Fights to breathe. Fight the urge to scream. He can no longer take it as he hears the familiar sound of his father picking up the old iron rod. He wails in pain and frustration as he knows what comes next.

“Strip,” his father orders. “I don’t want to,” the boy expels in broken words and snot. “Sorry what was that?” His father mocks. Striking the side of the cage with the iron rod, “Don’t you make me ask twice? No use in fucking up your clothes over your stupidity, but don’t think I won’t.” His father walks over to the furnace and opens the door. The boy does as he was told. The fire burning inside lights up the room. His father places the end of the rod in the fire before asking, “Are you sorry?” Too afraid to move, too afraid to see the boy lays there. “Are you or are you not sorry?” His father asks. “Yes,” the boy shouts. “I want to hear you say it,” his father demands. The iron rod heats up. The boy sits up and grabbing the side of the cage, “I’m sorry father.” His father stands there with his back facing him. Doesn’t even bother to look him. Only stares at the end of the iron bar in the fire,” I don’t believe you.”

“So this pattern of abuse went on for years?” The doctor asks. The young man nods to the question. “Why not report it to anyone?” The doctor asks. “To who?” He asks right back. Writing some notes down the doctor studies the young man’s body language. “Tell me Steven did it feel good doing what you did? Getting your revenge? Was it worth it?” The Doctor asks. “No, not really. It wasn’t worth it. I didn’t enjoy it the way that he did,” Steven says. “Odd because I don’t believe you,” the doctor smiles. Steven smiles back. “It did feel good shoving that hot iron rod right up his ass. Should have heard the way he screamed. The way he cried like a little baby until his last breathe. I didn’t enjoy the beginning but the end? It was too bad that it couldn’t have happened sooner. But we all learn a lesson in the end I suppose,” Steven rubs the scars on his side over his hospital gown.

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When There Is No More Room… Part 5…

It happened again today. One of the patients tried to escape. “Couldn’t take the devil for one more day,” she screamed over and over as she tried to squeeze herself between the broken shards of glass and the bars of her window. The hospital board will want to know what I’d call it. A suicide attempt? A condition of her psychosis? What can we file this under? “How doctor do you explain what is going on?” I can hear them asking me. Even as the staff rush to help her with her many wounds. Even as she is bleeding out all over the floor. How do I explain this?

How does one explain to someone who is not here to witness this behavior day in and day out? How does one justify this as a normal everyday occurrence? One doesn’t. That one who is me must lie. Make an excuse to how such a patient ended up with gashes all over her body. Because the truth in this matter is irrelevant. A broken brain, the devil made me, and feelings of sadness are not answers to the questions they will ask. The bleeding slows and the staff lift her up onto the gurney. She will have to spend sometime in the medical warded. Heavily sedated of course. Which is the only reason I have to even bother with any of these incestuous questions. Money is all the board cares about. Had she hit her head? Well who would have noticed the difference? I know I wouldn’t have.

Why is it always the low risk patients that cause the most problems? More restraints maybe? I have my own questions that need to be answered. When she heals up I will have to find time to ask them. Until then it is on to the next one and the next one after that. I’m locked in here with them. I know it seems as if I can leave the confines of this place but illusions often seem real. Every day is a repeat, a trap in which I can not break free. Each case, each patient, each dark secret of the mind only makes the nightmare that much worse.

A man of science is no more trapped than a man of faith.One in the same forced to go on two separate paths that no matter which is taken come to the same conclusion, death. They don’t teach you that in school. No life teaches you that over time. Holds your head down under the water and demands answers to questions you could not possibly understand. I envy the others here. The staff and the patients as they do not seem to notice the path they have chosen, or perhaps they have without ever really knowing? Too many questions. The mind is a locked box in which I am expected to pry open, expected to break, fix, and replace. Maybe in the end all I have broken is myself?

Still haven’t done a cool image for the story… working on it… I’m not though… I just believe that I will… and I am…

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