A "Short" Story

[insanewitapen]

Wow! I haven't written something, much less finished it, in so extremely long. It's kind of a good feeling.
Anyway, I typed this short story about a character of mine a bit ago. Well he's more like a villain for my other 20 Billion characters, but bad guys count too. ;] I wanted to type something to explain him a little.

I was experimenting with a completely different type of style than I usually write in. And I think it came out rather well. I threw lots of the rules for tenses, fragments, and other things to the wind for the sake of style...Like almost any proffessional author could get away with. XD

[SIZE="4"]Warning:[/SIZE] Suggestive themes. But not very elaborate. Some people might not even catch on to one since it's not directly obvious just what this character had done that made him a convict. However, there is a section where he uses drugs. And other wordly things. This is a story about a villain people.

Story will be posted in four or so posts.

[insanewitapen]

[SIZE="5"]

Indulgence

[/SIZE]


Chunking of barred doors, shuffling and marching of feet, both were familiar sounds. Memories, attempted silencing of corrupt thoughts, a blur of monochrome, regretful voices. Is this really happening? A sudden flurry of hard, condescending, and reluctant faces greeting my exit. The sounds of a life soon to be past. All were hard to comprehend.
Even as scenery passed outside of an authority escort, the sounds echoed into nothing. Or it seemed to be nothing at the time. It was quiet, though hardly the utter silence that was once normality. The sun was present. That alone destroyed the void of the atmosphere. This is unbelievable.

However, no amount of fresh air, new faces, beautiful flora, sights of innocent youth, vibrant color, or feeling of freedom could dull the lingering injustice. It was hard not to notice of the prejudice lingering in every heart involved. Even I knew…

This is wrong.

____________________________________________________________________________________________


It was four days after Eleazar Manning was released from-what was supposed to be-his sixty years confinement. He had been returned to his home to serve parole. It was a surprise to him that the house was within the acceptable parameters, and that the building wasn’t utterly decrepit. But the town area, along with the yard, was.

The man was sprawled out on top of the once dusty bed of his long forsaken bedroom. He had coddled himself for the past few days in almost everything that a man just out of prison would have missed. This time around, Eleazar was at the peak of an indulging hangover.

“Ughh…”

His eyes peeled themselves open to fall onto the same object for the fourth day in a row; a cell phone. A fellow convict he befriended left it to him along with his number. He lay there for a good long hour with his gaze glued to the phone. For the first time since the release he let himself reflect, and reflect hard. Specifically and only about the cause he was confined for in the first place.
Eleazar’s glazed eyes instantly changed solemn and dark. The reminiscing of the past proved to be a consuming feat. His entire body tensed as the vivid memories rapidly coursed through his newly cleared mind. For what seemed like mere moments to him were truly much longer. Strained muscles, trembling limbs, a heavy beating heart, all pursued by an inapt churning in the gut. Then lastly, a single quote invaded his thoughts.

I could find anyone for you.

A sudden blur of a hand seizing his pillow and an earsplitting crash meshed together into a single occurrence.

The cell phone flew to the ground along with the lamp it was previously laid by.
However, Eleazar barely perceived the sound of the shattering pottery as his intense panting drowned everything out. Perspiration beaded from his skin and dripped into the wrinkles of his face, his site of the mess on the ground blurring over. He blinked violently to see once more and ripped his eyes away to the pillow clutched in his own fist. It had significantly nullified the blow against that naked hand, but a different kind of pain seared through him shortly after.

“Ragh!” Came the delayed cry. Eleazar recoiled back onto the bed, hands consoling a pounding head. There would be no going out for a while.

[SIZE="5"]Realization[/SIZE]

Avoiding steps, hushed gossip, reluctant eye contact, and the label had been set. Word sure can get around. Shopping carts shoved into a dull flood of repetitive routine, and half hearted announcements echoing pointlessly. Such a shear source of livelihood, and wouldn’t it need to be kept clean?

For something so ‘everyday’ it was hard to believe that they let me work there. Even if I was only the janitor. There was a certain charm to stalking around the store in pure boredom, searching for any touch of a mess.

Regardless, it turned out to be much more than I bargained for.

____________________________________________________________________________________________


It was three weeks since Eleazar’s release. By then he had gotten his act together, with a little prodding from the police officer. He now kept a job at a nearby grocery store. At first it was the best thing that could happen to a man of such past grievances. However, it ultimately showed to be more of a torture than shear dullness.

Eleazar was drooped in an old rocking chair that had long since lost its ‘rock’. He had just finished relieving the entire house of its thick coat of dust. So no longer was there anything significant to occupy his mind. His eyes once again became remote, but not glazed with the evidence of a drink. Culpable memories did not course through his brain this time, but innocent recollections did.
New images caused these nearly ancient memories to resurface. Images that poked and prodded at the old man’s stale heart, yearning for it to pulse once more.


An image of a married couple shopping at the grocery store flashed relentlessly in Eleazar’s tormented mind. They had bought a cake and nothing else, a simple dessert. The deep brown icing coated the entire surface of the red silk cake. Followed by meticulous details drizzled on with once melted dark chocolate. It was their first anniversary, according to the message on the pastry, and the woman was expecting.


“Hrmph,” Eleazar grunted with a shake of the head. He tore his eyes, illustrating a touch of tenderness, from where they had melded into empty space. To have experienced the entire situation in the first place was a bit too ‘close to home’ for his comfort. Frantically, his gaze searched around the room for distractions.

Success…until they befell upon the cell phone.


The images returned. He had caught sight of them again at the cash register. The soon to be parents eagerly checked out, husband with the cake in one hand and his wife’s in the other. Their faces held untold happiness on the surface, but something even deeper and content also seeped through.
With a touch of each other’s lips, they were gone.


It was all something Eleazar had once known, even if for such a brief time.

You? Married? To who?

He let out a rough, pained sound from the throat as his body bent over in a single, ragged motion. A hint of glossy shine reflected in the man’s eyes just before his wrinkled hands hid them from view. “…Clémence.”


Edit: Hey peeps, is there anyway to get the tab-button space to work once you post on CAA?

[insanewitapen]

[SIZE="5"]Weakness[/SIZE]

A soft wind was blowing across the melancholy scene, rustling all the trees of the town. Glances of suspicion, reckless indulgence of the senses, scared and lonely figures, all were under the flurrying canopies. That’s what the town had become, the ultimate epitome of the world’s neglect, amongst other declining things of the culture. I was no different, the worst perhaps…no, undoubtedly.
However, I was also nothing like them-believe it or not. My moments of the most evil indulging had past…but something less so couldn’t hurt.

____________________________________________________________________________________________


It had been one and a half grueling months since Eleazar’s release. His parole of one month had expired and the police had left him alone. By definition he was free, though he hardly felt like it. Thoughts of his past had begun to plague him worse than before, in prison. Nevertheless, it was different than that past vicious cycle.
Rarely did his subconscious now give him dreams or thoughts of the un-countable, regrettable, moments. But mostly of the precious time before his crime, before the time ‘God’ had not yet broken his family.

Until one certain night.

Eleazar tramped down one of the fractured sidewalks of his town. He was trying his hardest to avoid being inside his house as of late. It was nigh impossible to be there without stirring up some sort of memorabilia.
Once he neared his intended destination, he found the park surprisingly occupied for the middle of the night. Eleazar let out an annoyed grumble as his nose registered the thick smell of cocaine in the air. Crack-heads. With a furrow of the brow he scanned for any spot he could be alone.

A tire swing.

He was weary of reminiscing, of his job, of this entire place, and just what his life had become. Nothing. These facts reverberated in his temples until his entire brain became nearly numb. Then, his mind changed to a different subject as it, once again, began to replay what his life had been.

“…Hey,” Came a voice, seemingly close by. “You wanna buy or not?”

Eleazar sat motionless seemingly unaware of the spoken presence until the last moment, when the figure was walking away. In truth, he was actually fighting with himself in that moment. “Yes.”

“…You got a $200 on you?” The voice came again.

Eleazar pulled out his wallet in sluggish motions, probably already appearing high from his tired, emotional state. “Lucky for you,” He answered, and held out his hand for the dope, or whatever form his release decided to take.

“No, money first.”

“Do you want a sale tonight or not?”

“…Fine.”

After assessing out the products authenticity, much to the seller’s annoyance, Eleazar offered the funds. Drugs were the last thing he anticipated to resort to, but it’s what he found he “needed”. Rules and regulations were set aside and all common sense blotted out. He just needed to forget…and wanted to relive.

“Better than drinking,” spoke his already clouded mind. With little reluctance, he leaned over and he snuffed up his second helping.

The quality stuff is so worth it.

An hour later the sample bag was almost half empty, to be left on the ground by the swing. By morning it would be plucked away by some ‘lucky’ passerby.


If one was listening amongst utter silence, a bittersweet laughter could occasionally be heard on the sidewalks between the park and Eleazar’s house. The cocain had done its job. But the troubled man was hardly forgetting his troubles. In fact, the drugs seemed to be escalating his memories to a satisfying factor. At least, that’s what the high pleasure masking his face suggested. It was as if he was taking part in something much more pleasing than drugs in this reminiscing.
During his trek in dazed clouds, after missing his house multiple times, Eleazar came home early in the morning. By then, his body managed to clear enough of the drug for a small level of competence. Though not enough to witness the scattering figures in front of his house.

You screwed her over for that long?

As signs of his clearing mind, rude interruptions of reality pierced his bliss with each darkened step to the front door. So much so that by the time he fumbled inside he took off at a sprint, despite the high state.

I could find her too…

Even more laughter burst into the air as his legs maneuvered towards the living room with desperate efficiency. He needed the cell phone. He couldn’t let this utter bliss slip away again.

What was her name?

Just as Eleazar clambered into the living room, stumbling over himself to grasp the cell phone in his hand, a soft yet desperate wheeze left his throat. “……Tori.”

He missed.

The table next to the couch fell to the ground as his hand overshot the phone by a mile, leaving him to collapse pathetically over the armrest. He gasped like a whipped dog for who knows how long, his eyes gaping at nothing in particular. This was a horrible low, he knew it, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t anymore.

“Tori…” came the last, gentle, chuckle before the last of the drugs sent him into delightful unconsciousness.

[insanewitapen]

[SIZE="5"]Opportunity[/SIZE]

Diffused light, a comfortable breeze wafting past, and softness beneath. Even melodies were being offered, flowing on the currents of outside air. A truly picturesque day to opened senses, ones longing for second chances.

Last night would never be repeated. I was exhausted, despite all these awakening illustrations caressing my awareness. But it came to me eventually that
…I never leave my windows open.

Broken panes, stones resting amongst glass before the windows of the decrepit house. Not a single glass pane was spared this assault. However, the shards added a nice sparkle to the already pleasant lit chambers here. So they were let alone.
The front door had almost certainly been left open, but nothing was stolen. It was a crime of certain passions. But I was still the worst of them all. It was inevitable.

However, the next meeting was not.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________


“Had quite a night huh?”

Eleazar gawked at the source of the comment as he meandered in his doorway. The late middle-aged woman, on her knees, decked out in a messy ponytail, rubber gloves, brown t-shirt and shorts, gave him a small smile. A few buckets surrounded her average sized form along with sponges, including the one clutched in her hands. All these things were soaked in-what smelled like-a very strong chemical.

As he took her in, she silently turned back to her work. The woman leaned up on her knees, braced a sponge against the gray, weather worn walls, and scrubbed. It was then Eleazar first noticed the text displayed in bright red spray paint, scrolled all across the front of his house. It wasn’t readable from his position but there was no need. He knew what it said.

“Yeah…” Finally came the answer, though in shock as the situation hit him in its entirety. What in the world is she doing? He wanted to ask this, wanted to ask why, wanted to react, make a move, do something that showed he was in-what was left of-his right mind. But he didn’t, couldn’t.

She didn’t make sense!

Eleazar must have stood there for a good while, for the woman eventually started to shift uncomfortably. “So you going to come help me or not?” Or maybe it was just the manual labor.

“…Sure”

The job took from dawn to dusk with the both of them. There was the fair share of glares from unbroken windows of the cul-de-sac. But during her rhythmic, general, conversation, the woman seemed to take no heed. It made one feel comfortable, while all at the same time made one feel awkward for starting to be at ease in the first place.
Eleazar talked little, wondering why he was even doing this, and attempting to distract himself from these circumstances with the work.
Until the end of the day his guest deemed this acceptable.

“Woo, that stuff sure gets you dizzy.”

Eleazar mechanically emptied the remaining chemicals back into the initial container. “…Yeah.”

“Well you’re definitely gonna have to paint over the rest, still not completely gone.” The woman kept her eyes straight ahead. Whether she felt Eleazar’s terribly intrusive gaze aiming at her, failed to be obvious.
A long, most uncomfortable silence yet ensued whilst the clean up began. Goodbyes would soon be in order, the last chance for questions.

“…Why-”

“Don’t let it get to you much.”

“What?”

“Your history,” Her back was almost completely turned to him. What could she possibly know? What did she care? “…Make the best of now.”

The next silence didn’t last very long.

Laughter belched out of the depths just beneath Eleazar’s stomach. He couldn’t help it. It was hilarious! This woman came all the way to a convict’s house right after a local vandalism, brought cleaning supplies out in broad daylight, made every day conversation with said convict, just to preach? Hardly able to contain himself, he took his leave to the doorway. Though hilarious it wasn’t worth continuing to wade in this company. Right?

As the rather tickled man turned around to close the door their faces met one last time. His sunk back into the emotionless shock, confusion. While the woman’s was gentle, though not quite a smile. The door cut them off with a prompt shut, leaving the words spoken by the woman to be meditated upon.

Oh yeah, I’ll help you make the best of this situation.

[insanewitapen]

[SIZE="5"]Choice[/SIZE]

Voices of the doors of opportunity, prances and eager strides of promoted steps, both were unfamiliar notions. Memories, attempted rousing of old thoughts, pieces of excited, hopeful conversations. Could it happen again? A single encouraging face beckoning my coming forth. The sounds of a life soon to be had. All were hard to comprehend.
Opportunities flooded in over time; better job offers, options to move, college education at such an old age, maybe even romance. The sounds of said life seemed to increase ten-fold. I can’t believe it.

This is wrong.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

Time had given Eleazar three months since his release. So much was starting to change; especially since the vandalism. It was as if suddenly the entire world shifted to pitying him, wanting to help. Yet the entire atmosphere of his home still remained constant. This fact was a sort of comfort to Eleazar’s churning mind.
Thoughts of change, something new, thoughts that had been in his brain only once before. Thoughts that were supposed to be banned from ever forming again. It was overwhelming.

A tender knock.

Eleazar straightened from slouching over his microwave dinner. He waited.

A cautiously harder knock.

Lifting his burdened form from the kitchen table chair, he welcomed the tangible distraction. Weighted steps took him across the room to the peephole through the front door.
There stood the woman from one month before. Decked out in strawberry-blond hair to her shoulders, bare hands, a soft white blouse and black pants, and a calm, confident stare. Eleazar tensed at this intimidating presence. His fingers pressed against the wood of the ancient door between them, eyes completely lost in the image before him. No sense. Perspiration.

He backed away, his gaze following suit and fixating on the floor.

What are you gonna do when you get out huh?

Eleazar’s muscles slowly relax simultaneously with a long held in breath. A
promising, content, smile stretched across his face. He turned around, closed the distance of the room once again, and mounted the stairs. A relieved sigh followed closely behind as if something was lifted completely off his shoulders. More breath was taken in, fingers brushed over the railing, and a fist formed around the doorknob to the master bedroom.

He sprawled himself comfortably over the bed. “Ha-ah…”

A swift motion of a hand opening a drawer of the nightstand and the harmonious
sounds of bleeping and beeping.

“Who?”

“Eleazar,”

“…Oh! Calling to take me up on that offer?” Eleazar turned comfortably on his side. “Who was it then?”

“Tori, Manning.” He reached up to the lamp with his free hand, and switched off the light.

“Right, it’ll be cake. But hey, who was she to you again?”


“…My daughter.”



The cell phone flipped closed.

[Esoteric]

It's an interesting style. Very staccato and not always extremely clear, but I managed to get the gist of the story. I'm not really a fan of the genre, but it's not a bad effort. Congrats on finishing something again--it's a good feeling, no?

And tabs or line indents of any kinds seem to be universally 'broken' on the internet.

[insanewitapen]

Thank you! It is indeed a good feeling, experimenting or not.

And darn, all well. :]