Random stories, poems, thoughts, fictions.
Some are old, some are not.
Random stories, poems, thoughts, fictions.
- Created By UnknownKey
Jesse's heels scrapped against the cobble stone streets, kicking up rocks that were big enough and letting them snicker across ones that were not, his brain whirling with hatred and disgust. He could hear footsteps behind him, slow and cautious, knowing he could hear but not wanting to set fire to the fuse that hissed with heat as it was.
"Dog." Jesse thought. "Bitch." his minds ear couldn't make a voice to these thoughts, the swirled around inside him, unspoken for, as if not being thought of at all, flashing to the front of his mind and disappearing in the tornado of other disagreeable things only to return to his front of his thoughts once again and repeat the cycle.
He stopped. He heard the footsteps stop, the gravel being kicked up stopping a few moments after. It was as if the wind wasn't whistling, as if the cold wasn't freezing every inch of him. it was as if he was in dark room fulled with nothing but himself. He turned on the heal of his boots. "You fucking CUNT!" He screamed. it hurt. His voice scratched out of his throat and hissed through his teeth life pain itself. He saw him there. Standing, his hood pulled over his head and blond hair cascading down his forehead, shielding his eyes from Jesse's glare.
The Lighter boys, if they could even be called that. All of the lighters had brown hair and green eyes. All of them. 'Green eyed monsters' Jesse would call them that, knowing he was not one of them. His black hair, his eyes painfully blue, in the dark, no doubt his older 'brother' was having trouble looking at them full on.
His hair stood on edge with anger. "Say something!" He cried, Voice echoing off the empty streets and tall buildings. "Oh thats right, you don't say shit." He finally walked over to him. Looking up at the blond haired boy who stoood two heads taller than him at least. "You just take it, you get let other people take it. You don't speak up for yourself, for your own brother, for anyone!" A closed fist came down on the older boy's chest, eyes shut tight, failing to keep the tears in. "You piece of shit!"
The brother stood still for a moment and then pushed his hand up and pulled back hood and hair, green eyes shinning in the street lights. Snow was beginning to fall, glowing around the yellow light and falling into Jesse's hair.
Jesse's eyes shot open. In his whole life he had never head his brother speak. Didn't know he knew how to speak. He sounded odd, his lips moving to slow for his words. I guess one does not keep in practice after being deaf since four.
Jesse's anger didn't dissipate, instead turned into something else. A deep welling hole that sucked up everything around him, the street, the lights the snow, formed in its place, taking everything save for himself and Caleb.
"It hurt." He looked at him. "Hurts." correcting himself intently. keeping his head up so the older boy could read his lips, head to numbed and hands to gloved to bother signing it. "I tried so hard to keep him safe, to keep him from seeing what I saw, feeling what I felt but-" He couldn't continue, not with those green pools staring at him. He failed. He knew it, Caleb knew it. And tomorrow when the papers were published and the school struggled to find a new baseball couch, so would everyone else. That hurt almost as much as seeing his little brother, Cody, standing nearly naked in a locker room with the older son of a bitch hovering over him.
Jesse fell into Caleb, all his weight on his brother.
Caleb had said nothing because he lacked the words, Sure he could have written it down on paper and showed it to his mother or father or teacher or whoever he wanted. But what could one say? how does one begin that conversation with a pen and paper.
Jesse had said nothing because he lacked the strength. He had the words but he choked them down everyday with every meal and every glass of water. The strength wasn't there, he couldn't push the words out so he swallowed them and hoped he could keep it down or throw them up, but no, he was left with that sickening fullness in his throat for seven years.
He could say he couldn't remember how he got home but Jesse remember it all. He remember the crunch of gravel and snow, picking his feet up and climbing up the stairs, each step a hell of its own. He remembered Caleb laying him on the couch and taking off his shoes and helping him out of his coat. He remembered far after the lights were off and sleep should have taken him.
He remembered all of it. From the first time seven years ago to this moment now was all engraved in his memory, and it didn't help that everyday since he had returned to those memories and brushed the dust off of them, carving into the stone when the etching started to erode. Maybe tomorrow he wouldn't have to go back there and do the same, maybe tomorrow he would let the dust set, the wind, rain and snow turn the rocks into dust. Maybe tomorrow he wouldn't have to remember.
I'm working on a story. Jesse isn't the main character, but now I kind of wish he was..... because.... I love writing him. He has four brothers of which he is the second to the youngest. Caleb, Cody, Carl, and Clay are his brothers. Caleb is the oldest and is deaf. He wanted to play baseball but couldn't because he was deaf. the couch said he'd help him anyway and there was nothing he couldn't do if he put his mind to it. The coach was a pedophile. Jesse is a bastard son.... doesn't look a thing like his father or his mother. He suffered the same fate and when Cody wanted to play baseball as much as Jesse claims to dislike the sport he goes to all his practices so he can keep and eye on the couch. He didn't make it once and ended up getting there almost too late. he beat the coach into critical condition with a baseball bat. His brother bailed him out of jail and thats when this all happened.
Clay is gay. and was more of a hockey guy than a baseball guy so he didn't have this shared experience.
I love writing. Its so much fun.
I lay on the floor of Mill's living room. The rug was stiff and uncomfortable but I lay there and stared mindlessly at the ceiling fan above me. It was dark. Everything tinted a bluish grey and it was too quiet. The ceiling fan didn't even make any noise, The beaded strings that turned it on and off didn't tap together like they normally did, The motor didn't hum. The only sound it was gnawing sound of my own thoughts, questioning the next move.
Mill's would be home soon and see that I had let myself into his house. He wouldn't be angry. He'd light a joint and sit on the floor next to me, offer me a few hits and try to get out of me what was wrong and why I was there. I'd let me sleep on the floor of his living room but unless I told him what was going on I knew I'd have to be out by morning. I'd leave tomorrow. I wasn't going to tell him.
I'd have to go home in the morning. I guess I could say I have no idea where home is. But I do. I know exactly where it is. I know the street signs, the landmarks, and all the faces inside that wonderful place. I know the smell of the laundry soap and the taste of every breath. But I can never go back there again.
When I took this step it wasn't a step I had chosen to make. I had been pushed from one place to another, stumbled a few feet and fallen on my face. I had gotten up, brushed myself off, tried pick up the pieces but couldn't.... there were no pieces. There was just me, broken but in tact.
I had tried to have a new life. I tried to carve it in the shape of my old life. But I was never a good with knives. My old life wasn't always smooth or soft to the touch, but I don't remember getting so many splinters. I don't remember the jagged edges and incorrect spaces between peoples eyes, hands and hearts.
Most young people have this feeling that they are never going to die. Death doesn't cross their mind. and why should it? We had the rest of our lives in front of us.
Days. I thought, placing the back of my hand on my forehead and for the first time looking away from the ceiling fan. A car pulling into the drive way sent yellow light beams across the room.
Young people. I thought as if I was not one of them, as if I were an old man yelling at children on his lawn. But I really wasn't one of them in the sense that I thought I had forever. Even in this moment I didn't have forever. I had till tomorrow morning. Tomorrow morning when Mill's would kick me out of his house in a pleasant fashion that didn't seem like being kicked out.
And after that it would be Darius, then Wade, then Keri, Then AJ, then Ethan... Days.
I heard the keys jingle in the lock and braced myself. He wouldn't be angry. He wouldn't be mad or even startled. He would eye me for a moment, put his things down and without a word and go into the other room. He would come back in sweat pants and a tee shirt, sit around, smoke weed, talk with me for a while and then fall asleep on the couch in the middle of our conversation. We would talk about nothing and everything as if we had forever.
He didn't have forever. He had a kitchen that was a wreck from cooking Crack, spilled baking soda and dried into the stove top. He had a tear drop tattoo under his eye I would pretend wasn't there.
I heard the lock click.
I didn't have forever. I had days.
The handle turned, the door swung open.
You played with me. Little girl down the street who hid in my room with me, Hot wheels and streets made of carpet designs. Conversations about life, and eating purple grapes and laughing about nothing.
You played with me. The only friend I had for a long time. Throwing a yellow Frisbee full of bite marks across the yard to watch dog bolt towards it and sink his teeth into it.
You played with me. Came to me house to see me when no else cared. Sat on the floor in my room and watched youtube videos with me, Laughing at how my hair was a mess and my clothes had holes.
You played with me. Tugging on my heart strings just to feel them throb under your fingers. Tied ours together so you could feel my pain, and when the pain was unbearable you snipped most of them, leaving a few left so I would always follow you home.
You played with me. Took a bow to my heart strings and dragged them across listening to the screams of 'I love you' that choked from my hollowed and carved body. Because even if it was a twisted symphony, with a sadistic violinist, and a masochistic violin, The music we made was beautiful.
You played with me. Because you always liked broken things, always popped the wheels of of hot wheels and put them back together, but it never rode smoothly afterwards.
You played with me. Left me under the bed with other discarded things so I could hear the creak of the springs as you played with another toy.
And as much as I miss you, as much as I wish I had you with me, as much as it hurts to feel the ends of my hear stings limp against my chest as you no longer pull them towards you. I'm glad you don't play with me anymore.
Things I have wanted to say to people but just.... can't.
Dear man outside Walmart
I know I have rings under my eyes. I know my nose is a little discolored and my eyes are a little far apart. No. I don't want glass. I'm good. Its not my thing. on the off Chance you were actually selling glass and not meth... i also don't need that kind of glass either. All of my windows already have glass in them, my land lord didn't make me pay for that separately. My apartment came with those. So yea... I'm all set.
Dear 10th grade English teacher.
There are a lot of things in ones pants. A LOT of things. Yes there are respective private parts, but also thighs and hips and lots of skin. And when your inner thigh itches and you can't scratch it through these thick jeans... I'm sorry. You have to dive in head first and hope no one sees. I'm sorry. I thought I was far enough to the back of the class to get away with it. But trust me, what ever you think I was doing... I wasn't. And even if I was, Spending the rest of the year talking to a school therapist is a bit much don't you think?
Dear downstairs neighbor.
I can kind of see where you're coming from. We get home really drunk, we get in the door and a few minutes later you hear things knock around, hisses and groans and the occasional "Suck my dick, Faggot!" or "Yea, you like getting pounded in your ass don't ya, cock sucker?" but its not what you think. If you played Halo with your friends you'd understand.
Dear blue eyed girl with the colorful hat.
Stop being so damn cute. You and your blue eyes and your colorful hat and your purple sweater and your back jackets and blue scarf. You're flaunting it and you know it. You make me just want to go over to you and... say hello and buy you coffee. And later I'd take you home and we'd... talk about the books we like. Or we could play Halo sometime... your choice.
Dear woman who works at Anne Ann's Pretzals
I get it. I look like I'm gay. I get that thats what everyone tells you a gay boy looks like. And I'm glad you think I'm cute and all but really. I don't want your brothers phone number. I'm good. Well maybe you could give me his phone number and we could play Halo sometime.
Dear Ali the Cat.
I get it. You want food. But rubbing your face in my face isn't going to help you get it. I know its the morning and you haven't eaten since last night, you know I haven't done since last night, taken my fucking allergy medication. You're killing me. LITERALLY. I could die from this. You fat fuck, the last thing you need is more food. Oh no..... baby. I didn't mean it. come back baby. Daddy is sorry. he didn't mean it. I'll get you something to eat. there you go baby, want some kitty snacks too? okay, there are some kitty snacks. you're Daddys' world, princess.
Dear people who use my full name
Everyone for three blocks knows who I am, asshole. I go outside and I hear "oh, Alexander Nicolas Badassery, I've heard of you. You must have done some messed up shit last night, that bitch was screaming at you. What'd you do, man?" and its not even cool you just use my full name when I don't pick up my socks or shove them between the couch cushions. Calm the fuck down. I feel like my full name is a bad word now thanks to you. I write it down on paperwork and I afraid someone will be like "Oh. You're Alexander Nicolas Everyonehatesyou. Sorry... We can't hire you... we um... Yeah. We already filled the position." And I'm like "Its okay. I filled you positions while playing Halo anyway."
dear people who set up your Xmas tree on November.
STOP. Just stop. I have to live here too you know. I have to walk into the living room sometime. I don't need to be reminded that I have to buy people gifts and pretend I like Xmas music after three weeks of hearing it over and over and fucking over again, down the now in in gay apparel. I know. I've played Halo okay.
Dear hot guy who lets me buy cigarettes without an ID.
Thanks man. You know how to help a brother out. You want to come over an play Halo sometime?
yeah... Halo isn't a sneaky way of saying something else AT ALL.
They used to be good. Perhaps they are still, but they are broken
I looked at her from across the room, my heart tugging me toward you but me feel keeping my grounded, back against the wall, face as expressionless as I could make it.
It hurt to be so far away. Not just the gap between us of a few meters, but that also of the emotional. Your feelings so different than mine, Your heart, so different than mine. Your love? giving to someone who wasn't me.
Here, in a room full of people, I was alone. Alone to my thoughts, letting them eat away the corners of my brain that once made me happy, making the happiness disappear and filling me with an emptiness. This, coupled with the desperation to be with you, like you was the last molecule of oxygen in a gas chamber, I needed you.
Nothing but this paralyzing torment kept me from you. The knowledge that some other person was breathing my air stabbed me in the gut and twisted until my insides were mixed into the bloody mess my outside life had become.
I couldn't sleep without her next to me. The longest I had gone was 9 days no sleep. I wished I could dream because at least then I would be with you. but no. On the tenth night I did not dream. I woke sweaty, and sticky, and disgusted. I woke from sleep as if it had glued me to the bed, handcuffed me to the posts that nearly touched the ceiling. I had been a prisoner to the deepest unrest I had ever felt for 15 hours.
I crawled out of bed and inched me way across the room. I gasped for breath when I saw someone in the corner. But no- there was no one in the corner. there was only a full length mirror. A creature starred back at me. Eyes sunken in, skin an unusual color, greyish. Blue eyes surrounded by yellows and reds rather than whites, pupils dilated far beyond natural even in this darkness. This creature didn't look human anymore.
The room still stank of weed, I could taste it in the back of my throat. My eyes were heavy still, but not from Drug use, my throat still buzzing but not with pleasure as it had the night before, when I had hoped that the drug wold give me some kind of sleep, maybe even solace. Now it hurt. Sleep, just like everthing else, I was doing it wrong.
I did it wrong. I did you wrong.
I treated you like shit. Like being near you was poison to me, and it was. You were- Are... intoxicating. I was so used to being lonely I didn't know how to not be alone. I was so used to pushing people away I didn't know how to bring you close. I was so used to being a deplorable human being for the sake of survival I didn't know it would consume me. I didn't know I would be unable to shake this person I had invented. This person I made who didn't cry when people hurt him, who didn't care when people hated him, didn't care when he was alone. And this person deep inside it all, Me, I feared I had killed him with my bitterness.
And you. You are perfect. You make me laugh as easily as breathing. You made my pathetic life worth something. You made me happy. And I... I don't deserve you. I don't deserve to breath. I don't deserve to be alive. And as much as it hurts me to even think that I am not the one you love, I would feel like this for the rest of my life if it meant you could be happy.
I pushed you away when you didn't deserve it. I said awful things to keep you at arms length because if I let you press yourself against my skin you would feel what no one would guess. That I am afraid, terrified.
And now its to late.
So go to him. Love him as you do, smile, make him laugh. Be is all and his everything. I know there is no need to wait, you will not be coming back.
But perhaps I will wait regardless.
I'd prefer to be alone just now.