This is the beginning of a short short story I am planning to write. Warning it may be drastically altered in the future, but here it is for now. (On another note, all the fiction posted here is complete imagination, unrelated to my life…mostly)
“Ow! Owowowow! What are you doing?”
She stared straight at me with wholesome green eyes, shrouded by the cloud of smoke that was her black hair.
“Stay awake, won’t you? I can’t let you get kicked out of class again.”
“Just, keep the pinching to the minimum, okay? My mom’s going to think I’ve been beat up again.”
“Tom I think that’s the least of your problems.”
With those words she looked away from me, back to the shell of a man who was teaching us, for the millionth time the intricacies of Venn diagrams. The class stared back like a hoard of goldfish awaiting the bell to ring in signal of the beginning of freedom. Kathy started stabbing the desk with her compass.
“When. Am. I. Ever. Going. To. Need. This.”
It wasn’t a question, so I stayed silent and watched the dead flies accumulate in the corner between the wall and the door. The stench of laughter lifted through the room. Mr. X must have told a joke. I was sorry I had missed it. I had heard laughter can make you live longer, although I didn’t think much about any kind of future back then.
I looked back across the room. Faces void of passion quizzically strained to comprehend the lesson, and other fatigued, lifeless faces failed to look back at me. Each presence in the room echoed an array of sufferings, some small and some endless, yet each at the epitome of adolescent bleakness. So, this must be it, I thought. This is what is real. The procession of nerves through chemical reactions in the brain, and the consequent reactions to those little electrical signals we like to call feelings.
At the time, I thought all would be void. I knew of the vague descriptions of happiness I was bound to feel, love being high up on that list, yet was well aware of the pointlessness, of the tired and fed up sentiment that was sure to pounce onto me in my older years. Kathy sustained me during high school. She had to – during those long sessions wherein we learned things such as “critical thinking” and write propaganda-style essays on “why the youth should not smoke” in health class. She kept me awake, she answered my calls whenever I needed to be distracted from the screams that followed the footsteps of Home, and I listened to her pain as she told me about her father, about her uncle and her bother. I guess some stuff just runs in the family. She was different though. I didn’t love her as much as needed her. Years of hatred built up in a society where the chauvinistic and ostentatious man is indeed the alpha male, created this sort of teenage monster I envisioned mostly only while I slept.
I never knew when it started, I guess. It just happened. The buildup of events seems to have conjoined in a series of messily pieced together court orders.
My mother’s teardrops dripping onto a dampening pillow.
My father leaving with a bottle of Jack in his massive left pocket, where he used to put the house key to come home.
I guess he forgot the key or something because he never came back.
My sister’s screams.
You just can’t make those little kids be quiet for a single second, can you?
The happiness disguised with dread I left the house for school.
Nights filled with questions that would only be answered when it was too late.
My own screams plumping my pillow with various levels of ache.
The school counselor telling me it is not my fault. That I must seperate myself from all this. That I must live my life without the shadow of everyone’s misery hanging over my overcast skull. That I am a drama king and my life shall never amount to anything because I am a good for nothing boy without a dream without a father without grades without that English report that was due three weeks ago without a friend without someone to tell me I’m handsome without someone to kiss me to reassure me when the shadows from my closet look like they might attack me.
In the end I am part of a microcosm of entities, of frivolous facts and occurrences, that defines my existence, my character, my future.
Honestly, this is all I have for now, but would love to get any feedback from you lovelies!