Short Story: A Selfish End (Chapter 3)

This is the third chapter of my short story ‘A Selfish End’, please read the FIRST and SECOND chapters first.

Tap, tap, tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

He continuously tapped on the white keys of the keyboard. This was his last 200 words, and they were due tomorrow at 8am. It was now 10 o’clock. He frantically ransacked his brain for any usable idea he could push into this essay. He had to impress his teach, miss Newton. The word he focused on most was ‘miss’.  She was tall, blonde and attractive and 22, within the reach of an 18 year-old basketball jock who was a hit with the high school girls. He had his eyes set on her, and one way to be noticed was to be a good student – something he wasn’t used to being. So he furiously typed out the last few words to reach his word quota. Then he victoriously hit ‘print’ and was done. As he slowly plodded off to bed the phone rang. He was tired and ready for sleep, but answered anyway. “Hello?” he asked with a yawn.

“Jayson” whispered a voice.

“Mum? are you okay?”

“It’s your brother” she said in a tone that implied the next sentence.

“Something bad has happened to him Jayson”

“what? what happened mum?”

“Please come over… now”

“Um, okay mum, I’ll get there as quick as possible,” he said worriedly. Jayson hung up the phone put on a jacket and some shoes and grabbed his keys and wallet and flew out the door. Walking down his dark street he turned left and entered the supermarket on the street. Coke, he replied on it to stay awake while essay writing. So it should help him stay awake now.

*

“Mildred are you okay?” Dennis asked his wife calmly.

“Dennis, my son just committed suicide. Do you think I’m okay ?!” she yelled.

“I’m sorry dear…”

“Ugh… I’ll be getting a lot of those now”

“Yes I suppose you will”

“Why must people say it? It doesn’t help”

“Yes well-”

“Whiskey!” Mildred demanded suddenly.

“Y-yes okay dear,” said Dennis. The whiskey was taken from the cabinet and poured into a glass “Dennis, I want the bottle,” spat Mildred form her chair.

“Now dear-” warned Dennis.

“No! Tonight I am not an alcoholic! I am a grieving mother!” She then launched up from her chair and hurtled towards Dennis. “Now dear I think you should think about-”

“All I can think about is how he hung there! For hours! Dead!” She screamed at her husband as they wrestled over the whiskey. He gave in and released his grip, as Mildred swung around and returned to her seat. The sobbing started up again quickly. A series of knocks thundered against the door. “Ah Jayson you’re here,” said Dennis as he pulled open the door. “Jayson!” Mildred called as she rose from her seat to hide the whiskey. “Mum! What’s wrong with Michael? What happened?”

“Sit down son” said Dennis from behind.

Jayson sat on the armchair beside his mother’s and he was told how his brother was found, hanging in an empty room alone. Dead. Tears welled up in his eyes and he stormed out of the house. “Jayson! Come back!” Mildred yelled with no reply. Tears were now streaming down his face, but were unnoticeable amongst the raindrops that also adorned his face. He opened his car and revved the engine and burst into tears, only letting one word pause these display of emotion. “why…”

-end of chapter 3-

Thanks for reading guys!

-Ryan Lamont

Short Story: A Selfish End (Chapter 2)

The second chapter of my wee short story ‘A Selfish End’. Read the first chapter HERE!

The glass of whiskey slipped from her grasp. It smashed on the hard wooden floor, alerting her to what she did. “Oh! Not again!” she complained, as she got out of her comfy chair to fetch some paper towels. “Bloody stuff always makes me sleep,” she grumbled as she dabbed the spillage off the floor. The wind howled around the empty wooden house and the rain battered the thin glass windows. “I hate this bloody weather” grumbled an old man to the woman on the floor. “Oh Mildred! Not again! You clumsy old woman!”

“Shush Dennis!” she fought back. Dennis shrugged and walked off into the other room to continue watching football. A sudden outburst of joy came from the room. “Scored again, yay!” Mildred grumbled sarcastically. Then a sudden knock on the door stopped Mildred in her cleaning activities. She slowly walked to the door and the knocks became more frequent and loud. “MILDRED! DOOR!” Dennis shouted. “I’m getting it!” she fought back once again. She opened the door to find to dripping wet policemen. “Mrs Hilford?” they asked.

“Yes, that’s me, what’s wrong officers?”

“It’s your son Mrs Hilford” they said glumly.

“Your son was found this afternoon… dead in his house.” Mildred tried to inhale like usual but she couldn’t. Dennis came from his TV room to find out who was at the door. “I- I- I- can’t-” Mildred stuttered.

“She’s having a panic attack!” Dennis announced. “Breathe Mildred, breathe,” said Dennis worriedly. One of the officers huddled over her to try and help her calm down, whilst the other informed Dennis of the news. “Mr Hilford?” the officer pondered. “Yes, that’s me”

“Mr Hilford your son was-” began the officer.

“Do you mean Michael or Jayson? They’re my step sons”

“Yes, well your step-son, Michael, has been found this afternoon dead in his apartment”

“Oh my” Dennis said with sadness interrupting his happy thoughts. “H- h- how?” he asked in shock.

“We believe he hung himself sir,” said the officer. Dennis looked over to Mildred, who was now calm, but sobbing her eyes out. He went over and comforted her and guided her to where she spilt her whiskey and seated her. “Everything’s going to be okay” he told her.

-End of chapter 2-

 

Thanks for reading guys!
-Ryan Lamont

Short story: A Selfish End (Chapter 1)

The rope was tough. He’d chosen that kind on purpose, so it wouldn’t hurt as long. Cold to touch, he hung in the sunlight that dared enter the room. Beneath him, scattered on the floor were baby photos, birthday cards and school year books. The smiling faces that inhabited those items did not belong here, not in this room of horror. The Television was playing to the left of him. “Come on Michael you can do it” giggled a woman’s voice. “Yes! That’s it! What time is it Stewart? 8:15? 8:15!”

“Yes dear, 8:15″ laughed a deep voice.

“Write it in the baby book! The time he took his first step”

*

The sun had danced around the room for hours before she arrived. “Michael! I’m here to get my stuff!” said an angered woman. “Michael! Where are-” she said as she twisted the brass doorknob of the old oak door that separated her from her husband. Her shocked screams alerted the neighbours. They were used to the yelling now, it’d been going on for weeks. But they feared that the arguments had reached a new height of anger now. “Richard call the police! I think she’s in danger!” said the worried neighbour to her loyal husband of 67 years. “Okay Olga!” he said as he finished his lunch. The old man slowly made his way to the phone on the wall and dialled 999. “Hello? Police’” he said calmly. “Hey Olga where are you going!” he demanded as she opened the kitchen door. “Sorry, 47 Beaumont street, please hurry – I think she’s in danger” he said before hanging up quickly to run to his wife. “Olga you’re not going over there!” he said, grabbing her arm. “She might be in danger!” said the worried Olga.

“Listen! Nothing” he said calmly.

*

She caressed his hanging body. She wanted to untie him from the blades of the fan, but was too short. Her tears streamed down her face, making slightly darker patches on her new purple blouse. “Why…” she managed to say as she breathed out, trying to calm herself down. She looked down at her feet; beneath her high heel was their wedding photo. The glass was broken and his face was slightly torn too. She picked the photo up and looked at him. His cold expressionless face contrasted with the cheesy smile she held in her hand. She pressed the picture into her chest and hugged it. The glass shard cut her and she let go as the sudden vibe of pain went through her. She examined her torso, finding a patch of blood developing. She gave up holding her tears in and sobbed as she fell to the ground, amongst the baby photos and school year books. She took her sleek silver phone from her pocket and dialled 999. “Ambulance please, its my-” she paused to let out a cry. “My- my husband, he’s dead!” she said as the floodgates opened.

“Miss! Miss! Excuse me miss! Where are you located?” asked the operator.

“47 Beaumont Street” she sobbed as she hung up. Bang! The door slammed open suddenly. She jumped and got up and looked out into the darkened hallway. “Police!” they shouted.

“In here!” she yelled. She tripped over the various objects inhabiting the floor as she made her way to the door. A tall muscular officer came in to the room, followed by an equally tall and not so muscular officer. She fell into the muscles of the officer and sobbed. His eyes opened wider as he saw the hanging body.

- End of chapter 1 -

Thanks for reading guys!
-Ryan Lamont

Short story: “Creature”

Today I thought I’d share one of my impromptu short stories that I wrote to a friend on Skype. I love just randomly writing wee shorts, not knowing where I’m going with it and finding out about the characters, plot and situation as I write. It’s completely thought up on the spot and hasn’t been edited at all, so here it is, ‘Creature’:

The snow howled through the air, scraping against his bare skin like a cold metal blade. He shivered as he walked forward up towards the cavernous home of the creature, crunching on the newly settled snow. The ice was treacherous up here, causing many a great man to fall and slide to his bloody doom. But Elkardo was too smart for that. He had gotten two wooden planks and hammered nails through them, and then tied them to his wide feet. He could stomp into the rigid ice and climb the rocky outcrops that guarded the creatures lair. Sent with merely a Hogs hide to protect his loins from the startling cold, his arms were turning that worrying shade of blue; the shade that preluded to cold hard death. He could feel it coming, as if the black cape of death whipped behind him. It was almost as if death was pushing him towards a gruesome end high up in the cave. Death’s skeletal grasp around his frozen skin, constantly keeping him on track for his untimely death. But Elkardo was determined not to die at the age of thirteen. He would not fall victim to the ice Goddesses taunts, nor the death God’s bleak advances. He would dig the heavy blade that he held in his quivering hand, into the tough, scaly back of the creature. He longed to hear it’s cries of pain mimic those of his murdered parents. For too long had this evil beast terrorised his small snow blanketed village, snatching and burning poor civillians from their warm homes. He would not stand for it anymore. But neither would Rikel, Jontree, Casabla, Yert, Blaskane and Turbi. Their skeletons were presumed to grace this frozen mountain of hell, or to be held prisoner in the confines of the creature’s lair. The families of the creature’s many vicitms cried nightly for thier lost daughter, son, husband, wife, sister or brother. This creature existsted on hate and knarled and fought against the love that thrived down below – determined to tear apart the lives of as many as it could with its bloodied claws and fangs. Elkardo reached for the icy rock above him and heaved himself up, lobbing his heavy sword ahead of him so he could clamber over the icy rock. But when he looked up from his bloodied knees and hands, he saw into the deep yellow eyes of his adversary.

High above him stood it’s broad shoulders, its spiked wings shooting out of its rigid back. Its dirty green and brown scales were coated in thick amounts of blood and grime. The jaws that hung a mere few metres from the tip of his nose were clogged with the bones of its recent lunch, with blood and bodily fluids dropping from between the sharp white gates of its teeth. Elkardo glanced down to see his sword lying at the base of the creature. It seemed to sense that sudden drop of spirit that Elkardo felt as it lunged forward to rip his head off. Elkardo flung himself backwards of the icy cliff, hoping to escape the painful death the creature would deliever him. But as he fell through the horridly cold clouds, with the snow smashed into his frozen back, he saw the huge wings of the creature stretch out far above him. And as the creature roared an almighty roar and set off after Elkardo, he said a prayer to the mighty Gods of Vulducetz – praying for a painless death and a warm welcome into the world of the spirits. But as the creature shot open its jaws and sunk its dirtied teeth into his frozen flesh he felt nothing but a searing pain. Pure hellish pain, that tore through his body, infecting his every limb with its dastardly affect. His heart was beating at an alarming rate, almost bursting from his frozen chest. Then he felt himself being pulled up through the sky, no longer feeling the harsh cold of the winter. No longer feeling his heart beat violently. He looked at his chest to see blood issuing from it at an alarming pace, but the pain was leaving his system. He looked into the creatures eyes as the two flew up to the mountain top, begging for it to let go, but it did nothing, merely flying continously to the peak. Then it spat Elkardo out onto the icy rock, blood soon pooling around him, and he heard it speak. ”Welcome fresh demon” it seemed to snear. Elkardo wrenched his body away from the pool of blood, especting this to be difficult and painful. But he felt nothing, in fact he felt stronger… He then felt thick black leathery wings project from his shoulder blades, ripping out of his skin, causing blood to coat his back like a silky garmet. Then two thick fangs morphed from his mouth, and he spun to face the dragon. ”What have you done to me!?” he demanded.

“I saved you from death naive boy, and welcomed you into the demon realm!” it said as it breathed deeply, the flight clearly having taken its toll.The dragon then let out an almighty roar and a series of black winged silhouettes formed in the sky above. ”Meet your demon brothers!” the dragon sneered. And then they came, Rikel – the first to die. Jontree – the second to die. Casabla – the third to die. Yert – the fourth to die. Blaskane – the fifth to die. Turbi – the sixth to die. And they stood with me, Elkardo – the seventh to die. ”Death is a thing left for those of weak calbor – you my demon men are much greater than that!” howled the dragon as it flexed it’s leathery wings.

-fin-

As I read through it again I notice various spell and grammar mistakes, and see that I switch between first and third person. Alas, it was an impromptu story so it’s bound to be flawed terribly. I hope you enjoyed it, even with those flaws, feel free to comment your thoughts on it below.

Thanks for reading!
-Ryan Lamont