Well, I'ld like to share with all you guys a story I wrote my Sophomore year in High School. It was a great idea I had for our assignment, which was to create a suspenseful story. I had my idea in mind before he assigned the story, and I had done right as he made our assignment official. The rest of time I spent editing my story, trying to cut out the dumb, unnecessary parts. I was the only person in the class to get an 100%, which was really wierd because our teacher personally said he doesn't give 100% on stuff like this.
I broke up the different paragraphs so that it would be easier to distinguish them (because for some reason, It won't let me tabe or give 5 spaces). Also, the '~~~' mean a break in time, like a flash back or forward. I don't think that'll be too hard to follow though.
Hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it. Your opinions would also be great too =)
To
For-
Give
For-
Give
My throat has been parched for exactly one month, not for water, but for the kindness that was once coursing through my body. I carefully looked at the silver object I held in my hand. The end of it was smooth yet the handle looked rugged and over used. I took my eyes off the object for a brief moment only to be reacquainted with visions of the past.
~ ~ ~ ~
My momma always cooked eggs and bacon on Saturday. Every ounce of love she had was poured into the breakfast we ate that morning. When the sun from the kitchen window hit her perfect white skin, it made her look like something made by Heaven, all while she flipped the bacon so it didn’t get too crispy on one side. My older brother Gabriel and I offered to help, but she insisted that it was her treat to us for being her loving children. Gabriel and I felt bad because we were not the kind of people that deserved this kind of treatment. We would constantly commit sins that we regretted near or at our local high school. Around our mom, though, we would lower our aggressiveness and behave more like one of God’s children. Our father would always look at the sinners we were, though, unlike Momma who was able to forgive.
On Sunday’s, Momma, Gabriel and I would ride our wagon-of-a-car down a filthy, unsettled road ten miles from our house to go to the nearest church, which happened to be half-broken down. There we made peace with our ‘Dad’, as Momma would say. After church, we would each take our respective time and help where help was needed, which seemed to be practically every time we went. Momma was so proud of Gabriel and me. I especially enjoyed it when she would praise me and with open arms and hug me and cherish my existence. Even at my own age now, which is 22 mind you, kindness and affection were the best parts of being with my mom.
I think Momma was too kind, however. She was always giving and giving. I think she was making up for all the bad people in the world, giving everyone the kind of attention and appreciation that some never had. “That’s what Jesus would want, ” she always said. My brother and I found it a little corny and unsatisfactory, as did my dad, even though he was twice as religious as my momma.
~ ~ ~ ~
I shook off my death stare from the past and looked around my empty room. Nothing of any value, except the priceless object I held in my hand and a protective case sitting beside me. I cried as I thought more and more about my past. I’m not sure if it was because of pity or because of my worthless self. I wept for about a good half hour, the tears of pain slowly draining from my face and splashing on the floor, only to be forgotten in a few minutes as they dried up. I put the silver object back in the protective case, as it was presented to me exactly one month ago.
~ ~ ~ ~
My school was Megela High. Lucky for me and Gabriel, we got to walk to school, which made time for him and I to talk about everything. Everything. He loved Momma as much as I, yet had little respect for God. He pretended everything in front of her when we proceeded to church and praised our Lord. As we were walking home from school one day, he told me that it wasn’t that he loathed or hated God; He thought God is a great thought, but a thought nonetheless. Gabriel always went deep into a subject when he had something vital or important to say. He got very worked up when I brought up the question “Does God exist?” Gabriel told me what was on his chest. “What has God done for me?” he said agitated. “Our Dad is gone because of Him, and there’s nothing I could of done about it. Am I supposed to believe and respect a spirit that does something like that?"
Gabriel, no matter his sentimental personality at times, was a stocky man built like an ox. His biceps and thighs were thicker and bigger than that of a professional football player; they seemed that big to me! I was pretty stout myself, except with less muscle. I was still not even close to as big or as vigorous as my older brother. He would purposely pick fights so that he could use his perfectly built body. It almost wasn’t fair. Mercy was an aspect of life that Gabriel picked up from his mother, however. When he saw blood on the other guy’s face, he would call off the fight (he aimed for the shoulders and stomach though, that way the fights would last longer).
~ ~ ~ ~
As the tears stopped, I stomached my emotions and became subtle and motionless. I took one last long look at the protective case that held the silver object and slid it under my bunk. I got up from the middle of the room and pitifully walked to the corner and slid down the wall. This was where I liked to think. It made me feel abandoned and miserable, which I was used to now.
I know there’s a God; there is got to be. My life would no longer have any meaning if there weren’t a God. If there were, what would He do if He saw me now? Jesus always preached that the bad deeds that his brothers and sisters have done would be forgiven if we truly forgave God for what we did. Am I evil? I haven’t asked forgiveness from God for the vital sin I made. I believe that there is an afterlife when my life here on Earth is done. I would do virtually anything for God to accept me into Heaven, but if it’s forgiveness, then Hell is where I’ll go.
~ ~ ~ ~
Gabriel was in his final year of high school when it happened. Him and I were always tight, always like brothers. There was a bond that just couldn’t be broken. Gabriel would come and bail me out of fights in school and I would get his back when he needed support mentally. He always was a head-case.
My brother was in quite a lengthy fight one foul, muggy day after school. He was honestly bleeding from a tear in his left eye by someone who was much quicker than him, but not even half as strong. I had to stop the fight, since I didn’t want to see Gabriel get any more hurt than he already was. The person he was fighting said he would be back to finish the fight, but Gabriel shrugged him off with a staggered breath and a quiet sneer.
I brought Gabriel to the school’s nursing office to get him patched up. He needed stitches for his left eye and his left brow. The wounds had stopped gushing blood and were starting to get crusty, with a dark red tint to finish it off. The school’s nurse was very worried about how he got it, so I explained the truth. The nurse was alarmingly calm when she heard my story. According to her, she was not new to this, as Gabriel was not the first one to have that story. She said that many kids in the high school have been coming to her saying that they were brutally beat up. Gabriel was one of many.
~ ~ ~ ~
I was ambitiously rocking back and forth now. Why does God have always seem to take the good people on Earth first? The bad always seem to get away with their sins, and good always get punished for theirs. It’s just not fair.
Those days from my past seemed so distant in that it was like it never happened, like a bad dream. I got up and started pacing, only to find myself reliving the horrible day all over again.
~ ~ ~ ~
There was a different feeling in the air as we walked home that day. Gabriel and I were nearly silent the entire way back to the house. I kicked the stones in my path and Gabriel lamentably shrugged on behind me. He stopped suddenly and I turned around to meet him.
“Did I ever tell you about the day that father left us?” he said. I shook my head, curiously, yet with a dreadful outlook, knowing that this was going to be a painful story to express. “Dad was a priest, Adam. He was a God loving priest.” My eyes widened with a purpose. “A holy man Dad was, with a extremity toward passion. You do know, Adam, that Dad never died, right? Dad left us. He left us after he found momma sleeping with someone else.” Gabriel barely got the final words out of his mouth before he started choking on tears. “When he found out about momma, he simply left,” Gabriel continued. “He never said goodbye or anything. How do you live without saying goodbye, damn it!”
Gabriel was sitting crouched on the ground, his head sinking into his chest as the pile of tears began to accumulate on the soggy ground. Gabriel continued to finish up his vexatious speech. “He left something for me, Adam. He gave it to me the day he left. I never saw him that day, not even a trace of when he left it. I’ve never opened it. I think it’s time that you take it from me. I think maybe he left it for you instead. You were always more holier than me.”
Gabriel’s attention was instantly diverted as he saw flames come out from around the area that they lived in. He jumped up from his hopeless state and raced toward the smoke. I froze for a second, blank minded for some utter reason, and then followed in Gabriel’s footsteps.
~ ~ ~ ~
I got up and walked to my bunk, nervously seizing the protective case, putting it to my chest. I put my rough, crusty face on the box and tightened my eyes. God did not put people on Earth to feel like this. Is a man made to feel so much hatred and sorrow? Life is too short.
~ ~ ~ ~
Gabriel beat me to the foot of our house. He stood as still as a statue in astonishment. I stopped to his right and felt his emotions, too. Our home was on fire. It was ablaze in rapid successions of fire that continued to get larger. Gabriel, full of instinct, rushed inside our home, kicking down the door in the process. There wasn’t fire coming out of the windows, but there was little time before it did. I stood outside not knowing what to do. I imagine that Gabriel found momma inside, choking on the ashes of the flames. Her warmth was no longer of the love she withheld, but of the fire choking her on the inside. I had yet to cry at that fact yet; I was simply in complete shock. All I know is that Gabriel rushed out of the house with a sturdy box hidden under his left arm, wanting to cry but incapable because of his total consternation of the situation. He stutter-looked left and right, and saw a figure standing in the shadows.
We both initially thought it was the sinner who brought our house to flames. After Gabriel pointed and sprinted at him, I knew to follow. At full speed, I tackled the person before Gabriel was able to get there. I planted my rear on his chest and took swipes at his face. I could feel the blood on my fist as I pumped it back and thrusted it forward, alternating from my left to right fist. Gabriel stood behind me, tears gushing from his face without resisting, trying to get into the fight somewhere. Then there was the gunshot.
~ ~ ~ ~
I took my face off the protective case, wiping off the tears that started to dry up on it. Why do I put such pressure on myself, dwelling on the significance of the past? What was there to gain? Life’s too short to waste time. I must have a purpose. God, I believe, sets people on Earth to serve a reason that He tries to present to us sinners. What if my reason for life was to be a bad example? That can’t be. I’m not a bad person… Yet I’m a sinner. Life is too short. I looked back down at the protective case that held the only things I valued anymore.
~ ~ ~ ~
I jumped off the man, not because of the gunshot, but because of the look that Gabriel was giving me. His eyes rapidly turned dark red in color. He looked down, as did I, to find blood pouring out from within his chest. Gabriel dropped to his knees, thus dropping the box he was holding. I intensely shifted my attention from Gabriel and back to the man. I could see the smoke emanating from the gun he held in his right hand. “You Bastard!!” I screamed at the top of my voice. I reared back and punched his nose so hard that I could feel it dislocate. The flame from the house, which was now about to collapse, illuminated his face. “Damn you to Hell,” the man gasped as he slowly bled to death.
I took one last punch at the man’s stomach and then diverted my attention to Gabriel. His eyes were very dilated, with intensity that I’ve never seen in any person before. He tried to talk, but only blood came from his mouth. I could tell what he was trying to say through his eyes, though. The man that I killed was my father. He was the one that killed my only mother and burned my home.
~ ~ ~ ~
I slid the protective case out from under my chest and onto the floor once more. I opened it for the last time.
In it was a silver plated gun, with a western like handle. I liked to pull it out and pretend I killed the man, my father, the day of the fire. That wasn’t what the case was protecting, however. In it, on the top portion of the case (the part that was lifted up), there hid a photo in a glass cover. Scratches were all over the front, as I equally liked to touch it as much as I did the gun.
On the photo was a picture of my family: my momma, my big brother Gabriel, and my father. On the back was an important message that my father wished to express to us the day he left, but never did. “Is it worth living for”, was written in pure black ink.
I constantly remind myself to not dwell on the past; yet to reinvigorate myself and prepare for the future. But there never will be a future for me. The world already has too many sinners, as I am one of many. I looked up and closed my eyes, answering my father’s dieing question.
“God, it was worth it.”
I took the gun and put it in my mouth.
Lol, looks like people are actually reading this (I figured by looking at the length, a majority of the people would be like "fuck this" and click off xD).
I pulled these questions from a different forum where I posted my story. Feel free to answer them if you want (this is just for fun).
**I made these set of questions before I sent my story to my teacher to be graded, btw**:
Curious: Answer these questions (if you want) after you're done reading the story.
1) What were you're ideas on what the silver object was as the story progressed.
2) Were you surprised at all when you found out it was Gabriel and Adam's Dad who burnt their house down?
3) Were you able to guess what was going to happen to the main character as he kept comtemplating about God and his existance?
4) Were you able to figure out that the protective case wasn't only for the silver object, or did that come as a surprise. (explain, but only if you want)
5) Were you ever lost and confused in the story and why?
6) If you could make this story more suspenseful, what would you add (or even take away, perhaps)?
7) Rate the story on a 1-10 scale, with 1 being the worst and 10 being the best, and explain your reasoning
