aplus
04-08-2005, 03:08 PM
http://slumz.boxden.com/showthread.php?t=219672
I am working on a book of short stories, and this was one I wrote a long ass time ago, and then I "threw it away." Yesterday I ressurrected it, and I want to know what you all think, so please leave crits.
Note: I am fully aware there is something tragically fu*ked up about this story, but this is fiction, not fact, and no reflection of me as person. And there are several ways to interpret this story, I think, especially the ending.
Hate it or love it, but I need input...thanks - A+
A Version of Karma
Greg was stirred out of his television stupor by the sound of Matt dribbling a basketball. He was stunned that Dad wasn’t scolding his little brother for playing indoors. Greg never could understand how Matt got away with everything under his father’s watch, while he continued to face constant criticism.
Dad sat at the kitchen table diligently shining his loafers, wearing a collared shirt and pleated pants. The last cigarette of the day was dangling out his mouth, daring gravity to have the nerve to pull it downwards. Dad was freshly showered and sprayed with cologne. His wet hair was slicked back. All of this made something light up inside Greg’s brain like an old pinball machine. He was sure that he’d never seen his father dressed up before.
A thornless rose rested on the table. In the background, muted strains of jazz music played in harmony with a female vocalist’s trills. The corners of Dad’s mouth curled upward slightly, creating a subtle hint of the smile that had been nonexistent since Mom died in a car accident. Greg was now certain that he'd never witnessed Dad like this.
“Gregory, come over here,” Dad barked, words and smoke spilling simultaneously out his mouth. Without hesitation, he shot up and proceeded over to his father, coughing his way through a growing cloud of secondhand fumes. Greg tried to stand still, but he was bristling with so much excess pubescent energy that he found himself bouncing in front of his father.
“Son, I’m going out on a date tonight,” Dad continued. “It will be really late when I get home. Don’t try to wait up for me. You’re a young man now, so I expect you to watch Matt. No babysitter or anything, just you. I know that you’ll be all right, just make sure both of you go to bed at a decent time and you don’t let any strangers come inside our home. You got that?”
Greg nodded his silent affirmation, listening to his father’s words but also daydreaming about his newfound status as a responsible teenager.
Dad stood up, slipped his oversized feet into the freshly-polished shoes, and proceeded to the door with the rose in hand. His face still showed traces of a grin. As he exited, Dad turned back and looked at his two sons. With a subtle wink he ordered, “Greg, be sure to take good care of your brother. Treat him just like I’ve always treated you.”
Greg promised that he would.
Later that evening, Greg woke Matt up and rolled him over on his belly. In the beginning his actions were tentative, but gradually he became deliberate, then forceful.
His little brother whimpered from the pain, struggling to escape while Greg pinned his body on the old mattress. He felt relief when Matt cried, since it let him know that he was taking good care of his brother, like he had promised. Those tears meant everything to him. Those tears meant that Greg was treating Matt just like his father had always treated him.
I am working on a book of short stories, and this was one I wrote a long ass time ago, and then I "threw it away." Yesterday I ressurrected it, and I want to know what you all think, so please leave crits.
Note: I am fully aware there is something tragically fu*ked up about this story, but this is fiction, not fact, and no reflection of me as person. And there are several ways to interpret this story, I think, especially the ending.
Hate it or love it, but I need input...thanks - A+
A Version of Karma
Greg was stirred out of his television stupor by the sound of Matt dribbling a basketball. He was stunned that Dad wasn’t scolding his little brother for playing indoors. Greg never could understand how Matt got away with everything under his father’s watch, while he continued to face constant criticism.
Dad sat at the kitchen table diligently shining his loafers, wearing a collared shirt and pleated pants. The last cigarette of the day was dangling out his mouth, daring gravity to have the nerve to pull it downwards. Dad was freshly showered and sprayed with cologne. His wet hair was slicked back. All of this made something light up inside Greg’s brain like an old pinball machine. He was sure that he’d never seen his father dressed up before.
A thornless rose rested on the table. In the background, muted strains of jazz music played in harmony with a female vocalist’s trills. The corners of Dad’s mouth curled upward slightly, creating a subtle hint of the smile that had been nonexistent since Mom died in a car accident. Greg was now certain that he'd never witnessed Dad like this.
“Gregory, come over here,” Dad barked, words and smoke spilling simultaneously out his mouth. Without hesitation, he shot up and proceeded over to his father, coughing his way through a growing cloud of secondhand fumes. Greg tried to stand still, but he was bristling with so much excess pubescent energy that he found himself bouncing in front of his father.
“Son, I’m going out on a date tonight,” Dad continued. “It will be really late when I get home. Don’t try to wait up for me. You’re a young man now, so I expect you to watch Matt. No babysitter or anything, just you. I know that you’ll be all right, just make sure both of you go to bed at a decent time and you don’t let any strangers come inside our home. You got that?”
Greg nodded his silent affirmation, listening to his father’s words but also daydreaming about his newfound status as a responsible teenager.
Dad stood up, slipped his oversized feet into the freshly-polished shoes, and proceeded to the door with the rose in hand. His face still showed traces of a grin. As he exited, Dad turned back and looked at his two sons. With a subtle wink he ordered, “Greg, be sure to take good care of your brother. Treat him just like I’ve always treated you.”
Greg promised that he would.
Later that evening, Greg woke Matt up and rolled him over on his belly. In the beginning his actions were tentative, but gradually he became deliberate, then forceful.
His little brother whimpered from the pain, struggling to escape while Greg pinned his body on the old mattress. He felt relief when Matt cried, since it let him know that he was taking good care of his brother, like he had promised. Those tears meant everything to him. Those tears meant that Greg was treating Matt just like his father had always treated him.