The Afoci
05-21-2003, 11:41 AM
As some of you may know, I like to do some creative writing. This is a story I wrote about 2 or 3 years ago I found and consider it one of my best.
And this isn't a cry for help or anything like that either, just so you know. ;)
Please be honest and tell me what you think.
One Chair in the Dark...
It is but one chair. One chair in the dark. But not completely dark, there is a light on it, a small stream of light. This chair is in a rather bleak room. One shelf with only a few pictures on it. A small CD player is on the floor near the chair, there are many CD's scattered around it. No music comes from it though. Dark curtains cover the window and leave the room feel even abandoned. But there is a small stream of light, the light comes from the door being slightly cracked open. It shines into the room, on to the chair. It is a wooden chair. Painted white, but the paint is falling off to reveal the wood beneath. It is a white chair in the dark.
The wind blows and the curtains stand up straight away from the window, away from the floor, fearing the window they once covered. The door opens more to reveal a boy or man on the chair. It is tough to tell. He is curled into a fetal position, tears on his face. He wears a plain white T-shirt and blue jeans that are worn and look very old. His hair is short, yet it shoots out in all directions. He rubs his hands through it and wipes his tears, but they appear again as soon as he wipes them away. He has two piercings in his left ear, his upper part and in the middle. The top one is a ball, the middle is a loop, it is closely fastened to his ear. The boy stands and takes his shirt off. He is skinny, his bones show through his weakened flesh. His body is beaten, bruised, bloody. He has a Chinese symbol tattooed on his abdomen and when he turns around, it reveals a larger phrase across his back in Chinese symbols as well. His hands rub from his shoulder to his stomach. He looks down and sees his pain in his hand, red, sticky, scabby substances he wipes from his chest. He sits back down and runs his fingers through his hair. He speaks...
Where are you? Where the fuck are you now? You said you would be there. Always, pray for me and I shall comfort you. Where the fuck is my comfort? Where the fuck is my reward for believing you...Trusting you?
Tears run from his eyes more as he looks to the sky screaming. Anger seems to possess him as he screams towards the sky. Suddenly a picture on the shelf catches his attention. He stops. He grabs the picture. The picture is old looking, crinkled, bent, it is of a boy, about his age, perhaps 18, maybe older, perhaps younger. The boy in the picture has blonde hair and freckles...a devious smile. He holds the picture near his chest and sits in the chair. He leans back in it crying hard than anytime prior. He speaks...
Why did he let you leave me here? Why didn't he protect you? Why were you killed and not me? Why does he punish me? Why aren't you here with me? When I need someone...something I have nothing? No god, no friends, no love...
He leans forward and blindly reaches his hand towards the shelf as he had done it so many times before and set the picture there. He grabs the other picture. It is a much newer looking picture. By the way he looks at it, you can tell it is of the one he loves. She has dark hair, dark skin, and the most beautiful smile ever. She has her arm around him in the picture. Suddenly his face turns to anger and pain filled with a look of rage. He speaks...
Why did I hurt you? I loved...love you so much. Yet I did nothing but hurt you. I tried to love you, but I am incapable of loving unselfishly. And you fell in love with another, again leaving me alone. You were all I had after he took my friend from me. I had nothing else and then he took you as well.
Tears again fill his eyes. He puts the picture away and he stands up. Lightning and thunder fill the room. Gusts of wind fill the room lifting the curtains to caress the boys face as rain water removes some of the blood from his beaten, bruised, bloody body. A smile crosses the boys bloody face. He speaks...
You won't hurt me again. I won't let you. You won't have the chance to hurt me again. [he falls to his knees and screams] You can't hurt me again. I won't let you. [Wind lifts curtains and a flash of lightning lights the room revealing a rope attached to the ceiling] Leave me alone, stay out of here, I won't let you hurt me.
He slams the window shut. Stands on the chair and slides the rope over his head to his neck. A smile covers his face. He stands proud on the chair. No more tears, no more pain. Lightning flashes and reveals the whole room, news clippings of his friends murder are scattered on the wall along with love letters from his love who no longer loves him. There are many pictures of a happy child, of this child with his deceased friend, with his love. As the rain beats against the window, struggling to get in, a loud thunderous noise fills the room as the chair slides over. It hits the floor once and takes one bounce to help its former friend, but it cannot help him. Bare feet kick at the floor, reach for it, stretch for it. Horrible noises of the boy gasping for air, reaching for his throat, when suddenly it all stops with a great flash of lightning to show the boys eyes open, smile on his face. As the light dims, his eyes close and his smile fads.
It is but one chair. One chair in the dark. But not completely dark, there is a light on it, a small stream of light. This chair is in a rather bleak room. One shelf with only a few pictures on it. A small CD player is on the floor near the chair, there are many CD's scattered around it. No music comes from it though. Dark curtains cover the window and leave the room feel even abandoned. But there is a small stream of light, the light comes from the door being slightly cracked open. It shines into the room, on to the chair. It is a wooden chair. Painted white, but the paint is falling off to reveal the wood beneath. It is a white chair in the dark.
And this isn't a cry for help or anything like that either, just so you know. ;)
Please be honest and tell me what you think.
One Chair in the Dark...
It is but one chair. One chair in the dark. But not completely dark, there is a light on it, a small stream of light. This chair is in a rather bleak room. One shelf with only a few pictures on it. A small CD player is on the floor near the chair, there are many CD's scattered around it. No music comes from it though. Dark curtains cover the window and leave the room feel even abandoned. But there is a small stream of light, the light comes from the door being slightly cracked open. It shines into the room, on to the chair. It is a wooden chair. Painted white, but the paint is falling off to reveal the wood beneath. It is a white chair in the dark.
The wind blows and the curtains stand up straight away from the window, away from the floor, fearing the window they once covered. The door opens more to reveal a boy or man on the chair. It is tough to tell. He is curled into a fetal position, tears on his face. He wears a plain white T-shirt and blue jeans that are worn and look very old. His hair is short, yet it shoots out in all directions. He rubs his hands through it and wipes his tears, but they appear again as soon as he wipes them away. He has two piercings in his left ear, his upper part and in the middle. The top one is a ball, the middle is a loop, it is closely fastened to his ear. The boy stands and takes his shirt off. He is skinny, his bones show through his weakened flesh. His body is beaten, bruised, bloody. He has a Chinese symbol tattooed on his abdomen and when he turns around, it reveals a larger phrase across his back in Chinese symbols as well. His hands rub from his shoulder to his stomach. He looks down and sees his pain in his hand, red, sticky, scabby substances he wipes from his chest. He sits back down and runs his fingers through his hair. He speaks...
Where are you? Where the fuck are you now? You said you would be there. Always, pray for me and I shall comfort you. Where the fuck is my comfort? Where the fuck is my reward for believing you...Trusting you?
Tears run from his eyes more as he looks to the sky screaming. Anger seems to possess him as he screams towards the sky. Suddenly a picture on the shelf catches his attention. He stops. He grabs the picture. The picture is old looking, crinkled, bent, it is of a boy, about his age, perhaps 18, maybe older, perhaps younger. The boy in the picture has blonde hair and freckles...a devious smile. He holds the picture near his chest and sits in the chair. He leans back in it crying hard than anytime prior. He speaks...
Why did he let you leave me here? Why didn't he protect you? Why were you killed and not me? Why does he punish me? Why aren't you here with me? When I need someone...something I have nothing? No god, no friends, no love...
He leans forward and blindly reaches his hand towards the shelf as he had done it so many times before and set the picture there. He grabs the other picture. It is a much newer looking picture. By the way he looks at it, you can tell it is of the one he loves. She has dark hair, dark skin, and the most beautiful smile ever. She has her arm around him in the picture. Suddenly his face turns to anger and pain filled with a look of rage. He speaks...
Why did I hurt you? I loved...love you so much. Yet I did nothing but hurt you. I tried to love you, but I am incapable of loving unselfishly. And you fell in love with another, again leaving me alone. You were all I had after he took my friend from me. I had nothing else and then he took you as well.
Tears again fill his eyes. He puts the picture away and he stands up. Lightning and thunder fill the room. Gusts of wind fill the room lifting the curtains to caress the boys face as rain water removes some of the blood from his beaten, bruised, bloody body. A smile crosses the boys bloody face. He speaks...
You won't hurt me again. I won't let you. You won't have the chance to hurt me again. [he falls to his knees and screams] You can't hurt me again. I won't let you. [Wind lifts curtains and a flash of lightning lights the room revealing a rope attached to the ceiling] Leave me alone, stay out of here, I won't let you hurt me.
He slams the window shut. Stands on the chair and slides the rope over his head to his neck. A smile covers his face. He stands proud on the chair. No more tears, no more pain. Lightning flashes and reveals the whole room, news clippings of his friends murder are scattered on the wall along with love letters from his love who no longer loves him. There are many pictures of a happy child, of this child with his deceased friend, with his love. As the rain beats against the window, struggling to get in, a loud thunderous noise fills the room as the chair slides over. It hits the floor once and takes one bounce to help its former friend, but it cannot help him. Bare feet kick at the floor, reach for it, stretch for it. Horrible noises of the boy gasping for air, reaching for his throat, when suddenly it all stops with a great flash of lightning to show the boys eyes open, smile on his face. As the light dims, his eyes close and his smile fads.
It is but one chair. One chair in the dark. But not completely dark, there is a light on it, a small stream of light. This chair is in a rather bleak room. One shelf with only a few pictures on it. A small CD player is on the floor near the chair, there are many CD's scattered around it. No music comes from it though. Dark curtains cover the window and leave the room feel even abandoned. But there is a small stream of light, the light comes from the door being slightly cracked open. It shines into the room, on to the chair. It is a wooden chair. Painted white, but the paint is falling off to reveal the wood beneath. It is a white chair in the dark.