Disclaimer
The following is one of many installments for a story designed specifically for my blog. While it does step out of my usual genre, there are some things still not suitable for a younger audience. Violent/Graphic descriptions, strong language and sexual situations may be found through different sections. Each entry will tell a small portion of the story during different times and may not directly follow the one prior to it.
This story follows the direct interactions, as well as the deteriorating thoughts of a young man who is struggling not only with the relationships he has with those around him, but with the relationship he has with himself as well.
Finally, all work is strictly fiction and does not reflect the views of the author. Any resemblance to actual person(s) is only a coincidence.
If this isn’t your cup of tea, then avoid these excerpts and hopefully I’ll see you around my other posts and webseries!
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From a distance, one would be hard pressed to guess that there was anything wrong with the slow moving figure. Sure, it seemed to carefully weigh each step before it was taken, but it was a sight that was not all that uncommon to those who frequented the night. At this hour, it was the stragglers wandering home from the bar, or the party-goers left behind by their friends . It was the working women on wobbly legs, or it was the unfortunate ones who called the streets their home. The streets were filled with all types of nightlife, the kind that nobody gave a second glance, and so it would be for the pale young man whose steps faltered more often than not. Nobody stopped to offer him assistance when he fell, not once, but twice to the ground. Had anyone looked closely as their headlights passed over him, things might have turned out differently. They would have seen the object protruding from his abdomen, an object that was surrounded by an ever growing crimson stain.
But it was not to be. Even though it is a peaceful city by day, All Saints has one of the most dangerous scenes in the night life. When the veil of darkness falls, there are those who would wear it like a shroud, protecting them as they conducted their unlawful activities. There was a rich history of violence, from arson to unsolved murders and very few people dared to brave the outdoors after hours. Those who did knew better than to let their gaze linger upon those who crossed their path.
The shadows covered the young man, concealing him with their protective embrace. They welcomed him into their fold, for he was a being after their own. The bleeding had slowed and eventually stopped. His clothing was stuck to his skin where the blood had saturated it, with each labored step making a tearing sound as it slowly peeled away from him. He would speak softly, only to be answered by another shortly after.
“Why did they do this to me?”
“They were never your friends Scott. Have you forgotten what they did to you that day?”
“N-no…” His voice trailed off slowly as he thought back to what the other was referencing. He remembered how they had walked behind him, poking fun at his clothes and shoving him with increasing aggression.
“But she… She stopped it, didn’t she?”
“What, you think that she’s your friend? What do you think is going to happen, that you’re going to get all up in that when she breaks it off with him? Did you forget that it was her who set you up with the fucking cunt who did this?!”
His expression remained unchanged as he talked. He could have been listening to a program from an app on his phone, for all that anyone could tell, but when his right hand suddenly reached up and swatted the handle of the butcher knife, he yelped in pain.
“What did you do that for?”
“To get your head out of your ass. We’ve gone over this a dozen times since you left that fat farm, and frankly, I’m getting tired of dealing with your shit.”
“What if I…”
“…don’t make it? I won’t let that happen. Trust me. You should have been dead a long time ago.”
Hot tears formed at the corners of his eyes as he finally accepted what the other was telling him. They burned against his skin, the last reminder of the humanity he was leaving behind.
“Look. We’re here.”
He lifted his gaze, until now unaware of where he had been walking. He stood at the end of cracked sidewalk, worn from years of abuse from the sun above and from roots below. At the other end stands a poor excuse for a home, also worn by the years. It has had many repairs, but each only out of necessity. It was obvious to anyone looking at it that its appearance wasn’t important. The repairs had been done with whatever material was readily accessible; doors, barn-wood, tin most likely found at the landfill… Here was a house that met the meager needs of its occupants, but only to protect them from the elements.
“Wha,” he started to ask, confused.
“His dad rides the radio waves.”
“So?”
“Oh goddamit, do I have to explain everything for you?”
He didn’t ask, nor did the other need to continue. He did indeed know why he was here.
Here was the beginning of the end.
Beneath The Headstone 