Less fan, more fiction.
I wrote this some time ago, but just recently have I found the courage to post it. Only two others have seen any of this story, and only one has read it to its fullest. Please don't tear it apart or 'TL;DR' it, as I have out quite the number of hours putting thought towards it. And if you have found any grammatical errors on my part, please tell me. My editor/brother forgot to go through it thoroughly.
Oh and while you're reading here is some music to set the mood.
Taken hostage by the event he can't escape. Will never escape. He drowned himself in another bottle of Skol, it was cheap and he was broke. That day was like the rest, lovely, a gift really, but now that day was a curse. Something no man should live with, something that tears your very soul out and throws it into the fires of the sun.
He got off the bus with a skip to his step. Always cheerful, this child, always optimistic, even in classes he was a radiant beam from the sun. She greeted him with a smile like she always had. They started their journey home, just fifty yards, three of road, the rest of field. The greenest grass a man could ever wish to mow. They held hands and pursued the first step.
The sound was that of tires tearing at the road, the engine bellowing at the tires to go faster and the tires screaming in rebellion. But the truck pushed on. Faster and faster up the hill. Towards the two most cherished things in the mans life. He heard the truck. Yelled then screamed for it not to be true. The smile on the mothers face that could bring the dead back to life it was so beautiful. But if only she had looked through a mirror the father wouldn't be where he was now. His body ran faster than he thought possible, his mind couldn't possibly keep up. He screamed louder and louder but it was wild and incomprehensible. The mother didn't know what to make of it. She turned. Death stole her and the boy. Silence stole the father. He ran harder and faster but it was as if they were miles away. The agony he felt was more than an army could comprehend. It was acid through his veins. they were barely breathing when he got to them. The father crumpled, conformed to their positions. Carefully pulling them closer, tears started to come to him like they had never before. His senses went into denial, he didn't want to see them like this. He was blinded. He didn't want to smell the burning rubber from the tires. The scent was robbed from him. He felt a puddle growing around him. He could no longer feel the warm touch of the earth or the blood.
"Honey, it'll be ok". She spoke quieter than any mouse, softer than any feather. Permafrost gripped his very soul as he knew this may be their last moments together. He didn't want to hear her last words, not like this, not yet. The idea that they still had years to go was fleeing his mind, he grasped for it like a drowning man would air. "It isn't your fault". She spoke again. "Is he-". she looked to the boy. This time a little more raspy. The boy hadn't spoken. The father leaned closer to him hoping for anything. He was already gone. He hadn't gotten to him in time. The tears started to pour harder and faster. He felt nothing. He saw nothing. He heard nothing. He was deaf dumb and blind wondering hell. He looked to the truck. The source of his pain. The driver was fiddling with something in the passenger seat. A flurry of movements trying to hide his reason for hitting the mother and child. The father took his shirt from his back, gently rested it under the mother's head. His chest stomach and back were chiseled in marble, his mind long gone.
He didn't hear his wife's attempt at denying his movements. He moved to the door of the truck quicker than lightning strikes the earth. He threw the driver out of the car and onto the moist pavement. The father noticed the needles on the floorboard on the passenger's side. His rage grew to new heights. The driver had no time to react, the father was on top of him. He pummeled the driver, using every bit of strength he could muster. The sound was similar to that bowling balls dropping on flesh. With each blow the driver was less recognizable, his face swollen and bloodied. The father couldn't feel his broken knuckles from bashing the drivers skull, he couldn't feel the torn skin on his hands from the drivers broken teeth. The driver wheezed after every blow. The father was drenched with a mix of blood years and sweat. The mother scream for him to stop but her voice would only let out a whisper. He heard his wife's testimony to his feral beating. He froze, turned to her, she's was crying. He paused his onslaught. He crawled back to his wife and child. "I'm so so sorry-". She hushed his apology.
Hope you enjoyed. ^.^
And depending on the fees back I get, I'll post other works of mine.