DogOfHavoc
Future Tragedy
- Reaction score
- 55
My latest work, I'm quite proud of this one. But don't let that stop you. Please be brutal, all criticism is welcome.
His wife crouched behind the sofa near the door; she had just returned from her lover's house. Behind the counter hid his father, a bottle of beer already in his hand. On the other side of the room his boss hid behind a lamp. Hell, if you looked close enough you could even spot a local State Representative huddled behind a recliner. It was Pete's birthday of all days, and they were all hiding in his apartment, just waiting for him to get home.
Pete opened the door and stepped into the room. His face was haggard and a look of apathy was etched into his expression. As soon as he crossed the threshold, they all jumped out of their deep hidden places and assaulted him with the sudden outpouring of their voices. Pete ignored them and walked over to the fridge. Slamming it open, he bent over and peered in uninterestedly. After a few seconds of deliberation he snatched a six pack of Budweiser out and slunk to the sofa. He decided he deserved a little TV time after the hard day at work. Everything (and everyone) else could wait. Even as he sat down, they were still talking to him. As he downed one beer after another, he stopped being able to hear them, and they left.
As he drank more, his mind became more and more dulled. Eventually he blacked out.
Pete awoke in the morning on the floor, with his head throbbing. He lay on the dirty carpet, cursing life. Summoning the little strength he had, he crawled to his feet. As the new day began, his mind began to gain momentum. As he got ready for work he heard banging on the door. Not knowing which of his little friends it was he avoided opening the door. Instead he took a few shots of whiskey. Eventually, the banging stopped and whoever it was left.
After the whiskey was gone, Pete resolved to continue preparing for work. Stumbling into the bathroom he caught his reflection in the mirror. His eyes went wide for a second, then a bitter laugh escaped from his soar throat. Those bloodshot eyes, that scraggly beard and sagging cheeks. For a second he considered greeting his dad, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. Acknowledging it would make it real.
Ready for work, Pete walked to the door. He was painfully aware that he was not drunk enough. But there was no beer left. With this realization, he began to think about the day ahead. Go to work, get yelled out. Come home to his lonely apartment. Pay his ridiculous taxes. These thoughts were crushing. Crushing because they weren't thoughts, they were facts. Each step to the door made his head throb more. Each step made him feel heavier and heavier. By the time he twisted the doorknob, he could no longer breath. He opened the door. They rushed him.
His father grabbed him by the neck and began to strangle him, his dirty curled nails puncturing massive bloody gashes in his neck. Stepping in next, his boss took out a pistol and shot him once in each knee. Pete sunk to the floor in anguish, lacking the strength to even scream out. Next in the angry mob was his wife, she plunged a knife into his heart. However, it was a short knife and so Pete didn't die right away. He simply fell on his back gasping. Last came the State Representative, a massive hammer in his hand. Holding it above his head he brought it swinging at Pete's face.
"Well maybe I shouldn't have ignored them last night" Pete thought right before the hammer crushed his skull into a pulpy mesh.
He died slowly and terribly, still unable to cry out.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The two forensic scientists examined the body of one Peter A. Fenwield at the base of his apartment building. His head was smashed to little pieces.
"No other injuries besides the head wound. I'd say he died on impact" said the first investigator.
"Yea cause of death was clearly the fall," the second replied.
"It wasn't the fall that killed him," the first said. He paused for a second, relishing the surprised look on his co-workers face.
"His only injuries were caused by hitting the pavement. How can you say it wasn't the fall that killed him?"
The first investigator grinned:
"Nope, it wasn't the fall that killed him... It was the sudden stop."
was a sad story
