Flames eat tragedies

Flames by Venne

I know, I know....this piece is slightly dark. But, dark minds can be pretty good sometimes.

My intention here was to explore a different version of the story I presented last week. Go look at the other piece if you don't remember. The previous premise was a young man who was haunted by a girl he loved and was betrayed by. The same holds constant for this story. However, where the other man was in a calm state of agony, this one's in complete chaos. Additionally, the underlying want for a free life has been gutted and replaced with an insatiable need for the peace of death. 

"Insanity"

My fingers grasp the idea on my mind; they hold back the headache that she causes. The chair beneath me is comfy, but this air is suffocating. I grab a math book off of my desk and throw it at the wall to my left. It collides harshly and destroy some of my roommates valuables.
I yell out in frustration. Here come the tears, so hot and unwanted. She should’ve left me alone, but I still chased her. Always, I’m to blame. 

I yell out once more and fall out of my chair harshly. The ensuing pain can’t compare with the murderous affection of my thoughts. “Chris?” says my roommate’s voice from behind the front door. The doorknob jiggles but the diagonally turned lock allows neither exit nor entrance. “Let me in! I can help you!” He shouldn't care so much. After all, caring only leads to pain.

“No,” I state plainly before getting to my feet and throwing my chair across the room. Tears come harder than ever as my blurry eyes scan the room. One of my roommate’s lighters falls into sight. I pick it up. With a flick, an orange flame flickers to life. My finger goes to its center and the calming relief of burning flesh sends relief throughout my body. “This’ll work.” I smirk, my hand already on the door of the fridge.
“Chris!” He still tries to get through the door, but nothing will work. Fate drives this situation.
The fridge is open wide and I pull out a bottle of Absolut. Opening the bottle, my nostrils take a huge wiff before my mouth is granted a decent swig. No matter what I said, he had to keep bringing this shit into the room. Oh well. At least it’ll rid me of her...her....her! I yell out once more as I tear my shirt to shreds.
I pour a bit of the vodka on my desk, take another swig, and stuff a thin, long strip of my shirt into the bottle. With a flick of my thumb, I light the shirt ablaze. My mouth distorted into a devilish grin, I slam the bottle into my desk. Glass flies in multiple directions as the desk becomes soaked and the flame starts to catch. Unsatisfied, I flick my thumb again and put a new flame to spilled alcohol. This time, everything works as it should.
“What’s going on in there?!” My R.A. yells from outside the door. “Open up immediately!” The doorknob jiggles again before bodies start ramming into the door.
“Too late,” I whisper, insanity on my face. The flame has caught onto everything, and I close my eyes in anticipation of the second when my memories of her will die.

Fate drives me.

~Chris

The Whispers

Hey guys, this is an excerpt of a story that I have been working on, it's called 'The Whispers'.
Now the people that I have shown this story to ask me if Caleb is really me or someone I made up, and well it is me. Now my dad isn't a drunk or my mom isn't dead, but about 2 years ago if you would have asked me I would say that I hated my dad and my mom almost left us. And this story was a way for me to express my life at that time through my imagination. Thankfully my family life has been restored and I hope that each part of the story I post that you will enjoy this story of redemption. :)

Alex S.

It was late.

Eleven-thirty to be exact. And on a moonlit night I found myself wandering through the streets of Lancaster, Washington. I knew it wasn't safe, but truthfully I really didn't care. All I wanted to be was away from home. I hadn’t been able to understand it. My mother dying and my father being a drunk. How did I get here, wandering the streets of Washington.

Everyday at school was like having rocks thrown at me, people constantly beating me down with the insults. There was only one good thing I could think of that I liked about school was seeing Sara Cooper. You could say I had a crush on her since the third grade when she moved to my school from Indiana. I knew it would never happen, I mean she was the most beautiful girl in school. Well maybe not the most beautiful girl, but as my mother always said, beauty was in the eye of the beholder. My heart sank, if only she were here to talk to, and tell me everything would be okay. I missed her so much.

Sometimes I wished at night that I wouldn't wake up the next morning. I didn't really mean it, but I was hurting so bad seeing all of my friends have moms to love them, I had no idea what that felt like. She died while I was a boy. Something told me that it was one of the greatest things you could have. I looked down at my watch, I really needed to get home, school was tomorrow and had a bunch of algebra homework to get done.

I hoped that my father had skipped out on the drinking and went to bed, but I doubt it knowing him, it was rare if my father didn't drink. The only reason my father got up in the morning was to go to work. I felt sorry for my father sometimes because from what he would tell me before becoming more depressed was that my mother was the reason he woke up every morning. I never pushed the issue any further. What if my father lost it altogether? What if I had to live alone or in an orphanage? The thought made my heart heavy. I looked up at the skyscrapers, the lights, and rushing cars. Life never stops, it never gives you a break. All I ever wanted was time to stop for a while so I could work through all my emotions. There was no time for that. He had to be strong; I had to keep going and never give up. Time was running away from me, and I soon found myself jogging through the streets of Washington. Running past people gathering at the light posts, but I got too close to an alley and ran into a larger man with a menacing look in his eyes.

"Hey, slow down there kid." The big man said. I looked up at him breathless. "What’re you looking for?" I thought about what the man was asking, and then it hit me. He thought I wanted drugs. I stumbled for a moment while the big man just looked at me dumbly.

“Uh I. . .” I was stumbling with my words. “Uh, no thanks.” I managed to say clearly. I shifted my eyes down and headed on my way. The man looked back at me like I was crazy, but I didn’t care what he thought.

I twisted the doorknob and the door squeaked as it opened. I walked in, then stopped to listen to hear if my father was awake. Nothing. At least it was better than him stumbling through the kitchen drunk. I walked through the kitchen just to see if he had been drunk earlier. Looking around I spotted a cracked liquor bottle and what looks to be the shards of a shot glass. I just shook my head.

This is never going to end, what did I expect to happen. Just to wake up one morning and my father be happy as ever and sober. Yeah, sure I thought. When I thought about it, I've only seen him drunk one time. Chills flew down my spine, I never wanted to see that again. I never wanted to be a part of that. After I had seen that I made a promise that I would never get caught up in alcohol or drugs. I now see what it does to people, it destroys everything they hold dear to them. If only his father could see what he was doing to himself.

I sighed and reached down to pick up the shards of glass. I slipped, and the palm of my hand was cut wide open. "Agh!" I heard myself say aloud. I winced. Instinctively, I grabbed the cut with my other hand. Blood was pooling on my palm and dribbling on the floor. I ran over to the sink to wash the cut out. Suddenly I felt dizzy, I was losing too much blood. I panicked and turned, trying to get a towel, tripping over myself. I slammed hard against the floor, I could smell the distinct scent of blood. It was no use trying to get up, for my world slowly drifted away into black...

~Edited by Sharon, AAA