I liked the intensity of the story and how it goes in and out of the situation.
Skip to main content
Swap Used Books - Buy New Books at Great Prices!
How To Swap Books
Sign Up
Search 
Kiosk
PBS Market (New Books)
Book Browser
Advanced Search
Books Posted Today
Member Book Reviews
Award Winning Books
NYT Best Sellers
Amazon Best Sellers
Most Traveled Copies
Club Wish List
Login
Community
Discussion Forums
Book Lists
Blog
Donations
Box-O-Books
Maps
The Eclectic Pen
Fun Stuff
Top 100
Pulse of PBS
Spread The Word
Photo Gallery
Recipes
Club Tag Cloud
Member Testimonials
Help Center
Kiosk
PBS Market (New Books)
Go Shopping
Buy Credits
Buy PBS Money
Upgrade Membership
Gift Certificates
Transfer Credits
The Eclectic Pen - A sad story.
By: Blake B. (Blakeish) + 6 more
Date Submitted: 1/18/2009
Last Updated: 3/3/2009
Genre: Literature & Fiction
Words: 1,370
Rating:
| They took her from me. The bastards took my little sister away from me. She'd been kidnapped last month. They found her body earlier this week. I am in the court room, the judge is reading the sentences to the men who did it. They were thirty something years old. When I think about the things they may have done to her...I hate them. I hate them with a hatred so pure and black, God probably has to look away. They are sentenced life in prison. It's not enough. God, it's not long enough! If there's any mercy left in the the world, let them die. Oh please, let them die. Then, let them burn in hell for eternity. Me and my family are sitting in the front row. My mother is weeping, my father looks grim. My uncles are here. My mother's cousin and brother. My grandfather is here too. My father's mother and step father are here. My grandma isn't. Two cops are leading the men away from the court room, by our side. Closest to me. Rage boils inside of me. I can feel it boiling my blood. I must release this rage and hate, or who knows what may happen. Suddenly, I am standing. I don't think. I am launching myself at the last man. The cop, my mind screams at me in the split second, take out the cop! Then I shall have my revenge. I take down both the man and the cop, using my weight to my advantage. A curse. I elbow the cop in the temple. Then I jump onto the murderer before he can move. I star to pund his face with all my might. “Damn you! DAMN YOU!”I yell at the top of my lungs over and over until my throat is clogged with tears. In a split second, I look over and see my father taking care of the other man. I look to my right. My uncles are blocking the path of oncoming cops the best they can. Good. This couldn't have gone better if we had planned it. I learned and thought all this in one second. Then I went back to smashing this man-no, not a man, he doesn't deserve to be called that, this...this monster's face in. His hands are cuffed. He can't do anything but take the beating. People are screaming. My mother and Obuela are sobbing. I wondered what my other grandmother would be doing. She'd be right here beating the crap out of this bastard with me. I actually smile at that. Hands grab me and pull me back and up. I kick off the floor, launching the crown of my head into someone's jaw. Someone screams. I lunge back for my prey. The adrenaline is beginning to wear off. Tears and blood--not my blood--and snot are running down my and the monster's face. Bile rises at the back of my throat. I do not want to have anything in common with this man. I manage one more sock to the mouth before many hands grab me and pull me away. This time I do not struggle. I only cry. Sob. Weep. They took my sister away. My best friend for life. The one who always wanted to play with me. The one I could always be myself around. I am screaming something. No, not something. Just a guttural sound of pain and rage. I find my voice. “You sons of a bit-” I can't finish. I just scream as the hands pull me farther away. I scream and scream and scream. My face is turning red and I feel lightheaded. I cough raggedly. I elbow my captor in the gut and run. I trip over something. I see myself heading for the edge of a table... Black. Blake, do you wanna play Funny Show? No. Oh, come on Blake, you never want to play with me... No, I'm on the computer. But, Blake- NO! Leave me alone! She runs away... Wait, I call, coming to my senses. I'll play with you! Please, wait.... I wake up. I can feel myself crying, but no tears come out. I'm all dried out of tears. I choose a stupid machine over her. I could have played with her one last time... “Hi, honey,” I hear my mother. She comes into my vision and kisses my forehead. She tells me what happened after the fight. She tells me I could go to juvee for what I did. I really didn't give a crap. “I'm sor...” I trail off. I'm not sorry. I am proud of what I did. She tells me the man is in the hospital. I smile. Grin. Chuckle. Laugh. Cackle. I keep up the mad laughter. My mother's face registers horror. That makes me laugh all the harder. She leaves the room, claiming she needs to use the restroom. I continue laughing. * I'm back home—no, not home. The apartment, a few days later. I glare at the computer as we come in. Everyone that was at the trial is there. I don't register their presences. I just continue on to my room. I close and lock the door behind me. There is a soft knock. I don't answer. The person goes away after a while. I am under house arrest for three months by court law for punishment. They should have given me longer or a more severe punishment, but maybe they feel bad for me. I didn't care. I never left the apartment anyway. The phone rings somewhere In the house. I usually have a habit of getting up to see who it was. I didn't. My mother knocks and tells me who it was. I get up, open the door, and take the phone. It's the one person I'd want to talk to, right now. I answer on the fifth ring. “Hello,” I say. “Hi, Blake. I called you a few days ago, but no one answered.” “I've been at the hospital,” I told my friend. “Hospital? Why were you at the hospital?” she asks. “Hit my head.” “Oh, you were in the hospital! Are you okay?” It was a dumb question, one I would've answered before, but I didn't. “So..did the trial go good?” I grin grimly at the phone. “Yes. I beat the crap out of one of the guys.” She's silent on the other end. “That's...are you in trouble?” I shake my head and realize she can't see. “No, not really. Only under house arrest for a few months.” “Well, just be glad that it's not a more serious punishment. How...badly did you beat the man?” I grin wider. “He's in the hospital.” She chuckles. “Good.” I nod. “Well, I think I'll go now.” “Okay Blakey, I-” I already hung up. I flop back down on the bed. I was beginning to get a migraine. I took out my pain pills and swallowed one. I fall asleep after that. Someone is shaking me. Didn't I lock the door?...It's my sister. My eyes flash open. It had been a dream? Had it all been a dream. She smiles and shakes her head. “No, I'm still gone. It's only a dream.” My face falls, but I hug her. “I will always see you in your dreams Blake. I'll see you tomorrow.” I wake up for real. The day passes by quickly. My relatives are leaving and soon me and my parents and my last sister are alone. I fall back asleep. “Blake.” I turn around in my dream. My sister is smiling at me. “Wanna play?” I grin. “You know I do,” I say giving the right answer this time. She smiles at me. Our stuffed animals appear. I sit cross legged and she does the same. We grin at each other, me and my sister. Together again. And...we play. |
The Eclectic Pen » All Stories by Blake B. (Blakeish)
Member Comments
Leave a comment about this story...
|
Comments 1 to 4 of 4
|
wow, the dream within a dream within a dream. i've had those before. we learn alot more from our dreams than anything else, yet they're given no time of day in the 'real' world. what is the real 'real' world, there are many who would say the dream is more real, we're all just caught in the matrix, double-blind detours, and the search for truth may in itself be the greatest lie of all. but sisters do have a bond that defies space and time and all other manner of things. sisters are sacred, everywhere it's the same. we should all cherish our sisters alot more. we should make a 'sisters' national holiday. this is an awesome story!
|
Comments 1 to 4 of 4
|
