Are you an author, publisher or webmaster? Contact Scott if you would like to sponsor the next short story contest.
- Posts: 73
- Joined: 18 Apr 2011, 16:27
- 2017 Reading Goal: 0
- Bookshelf Size: 0
- Posts: 4484
- Joined: 17 Apr 2011, 07:08
- Bookshelf Size: 0
It wasn't a very good story. There was no emotion and we had someone constantly telling us he's evil, it was nothing more then blood and guts flying and a spoilt little S* head who wants us to think he is the best because he is "evil"
It was disappointing how all these people died for no reason, i'm sorry but this story had no vibe or feel just a scrambled mess of blood and swearing.
- Posts: 77
- Joined: 07 Sep 2011, 03:11
- Bookshelf Size: 0
Blood by [Anonymous until contest is over]
Blood. My parent's always said it was the first word I ever said. It wasn't. The first word I said was doggy, and I said it as a baby when I pointed at the cute little family dog.
I know why my parents said it the other way, though. It was a turn of speech or some other metaphorical crap. And, they always said it. They always said the first word I said was blood. They said it until the day I killed them.
Despite my parent's symbolic lies, I wasn't always evil. I was a kid for a while. I played with the cute family dog. I made mud pies. I played ball. I gardened with Grandmamma. When the right music played, I even danced like a goofy kid from New York.
That's what I was: a goofy kid from New York.
I wasn't raised in New York, though. I was just "one of those kids that move around a lot." At least, that's what all the teachers and guidance counselors said to each other about me as I traveled in and out of schools.
I didn't move around because my parents moved around. They didn't move around. They sent me to live with Grandmamma and Big Pa. We called my grandfather Big Pa, because he was tall and more importantly fat. He worked in the military. He didn't fight anymore, but he taught classes and other crap I don't know about. He got restationed often, which is why I was one of those kids that moved around a lot.
"A kid needs his parents." That's what Grandmamma always said to Big Pa, usually after I misbehaved.
I "misbehaved a lot." At least that's what Big Pa said to Grandmamma. Big Pa would always tell Grandmamma, "Stop making excuses for the boy, Kaiya. You always make excuses for everyone."
Big Pa was right. I did bad things. Inexcusable bad things. I'm evil.
Grandmamma didn't think I was evil. I know she didn't because she told me.
I broke her vase. I didn't break it by accident. I did it on purpose. It was her favorite decoration. She had a lot of decorations, but the vase was her favorite. When her and Big Pa went out to dinner one night, I got a chair to use as a stool. Then, I got up and took the vase off the display shelf. It was a heavy vase, but I lifted it above my head and threw it down to the wood floor. I did it just to do it. I watched the vase smash into the ground, shattering with pieces bouncing back into the air and scattering around. I looked at the pile of broken pieces, and then spat into it.
When Grandmamma saw it, she asked me if I knew who did it. I told her that I didn't. She asked if I was sure, and I told her that I did it. Then, I asked her if I was evil. She said, "No, you're not evil. You just made a mistake."
I said, "But Gradmmamma, I broke your vase. Isn't that a bad thing?"
She said, "Sometimes good people do bad things, Tristan. You're just a seven-year-old boy. You're not evil, son."
She was wrong, though. I was evil. I still am, and I always will be evil.
That's why I killed the family dog.
The family dog lived with me and my parents when I was born. It stayed with them when they sent me to live with Grandmamma and Big Pa. But, on my eight-year birthday my parents brought the dog to live with me as a present. About a week later, I killed the family dog by smashing its head in with my baseball bat.
I did it when it kept following me around. It annoyed me, so I killed it because I'm evil. I heard Grandmamma try to make excuses to Big Pa. She said, "The boy's just hurt about his parent's going back home." She said, "Maybe he's jealous of the dog. Don't you think he wonders why his parents kept the dog and not him?"
Grandmamma was wrong. I didn't wonder anything. My parents kept the dog because it wasn't evil. The dog was cute and cuddly. I am evil. That's why I killed the dog; Because I'm evil. Grandmamma was just making excuses.
I killed Big Pa 6 months after that. Grandmamma thought he died of a heart attack, but I killed him.
I tore up his papers on his desk in his office. And he said, "Come here you evil little bastard. I'm going to give you a spanking and knock some sense into you."
When he tried, I kicked him in the nads, and called him a fat f*cking fag.
Maybe it was the kick. Maybe it was the screaming. Whatever it was, I gave him a heart attack and he died.
I tried to tell Grandmamma that I killed him, but she just kept making excuses. I told her that I killed him by calling him a fat f*cking fag because I'm evil. She said, "You didn't kill him. He died of a heart attack. You just want to be evil so that you can understand why the world's been so hard on you."
I said, "No Grandmamma! I'm evil! I killed Big Pa, because I'm evil! You're just making excuses! You always make excuses for everybody!"
She said, "Calm down, Tristan. You're just imitating Big Pa because you miss him. Come here, son."
She let me cry on her shoulder.
She called my parents soon after. She told them that she had to send me back to them. She told them that she had to go to a home soon. She said that she couldn't take care of me without Pa. She said, "A boy needs his parents."
Shortly after I moved in with my parents, I killed them both.
I waited for them to go to sleep. I listened to them talk. They were talking about sending me to school. My mother said, "We can't send him to public school. The boy's a demon child. His first word was blood."
After they fell asleep, I snuck into their room quietly. I used a big kitchen knife to stab my father through the throat while he slept. The noise of his death woke my mother up. I had a special treat for her. I told her, "My first word was 'doggy' you bitch!" Then, I used that same old baseball bat to bash her brains in.
The police knew it was me. It was obvious. They found me dancing in my bedroom.
Grandmamma testified at my court hearing. She made excuses for me. The attorneys said that made a big difference and helped me a lot. They said, thanks to her I'd be able to get out of jail in 10 years if I behaved. I didn't behave, though. I never behave because I'm evil.
Grandmamma visited me once a month. When I turned 18, they transferred me to a jail with adults. My Grandmamma still visited me there.
One time, I told her to stop coming. I said, "Stop coming to see me, Grandmamma. I'm evil."
She said, "You're not evil. You need to someone to take care of you. Do you remember when we used to garden?"
"Yeah," I said.
She said, "You see flowers need someone to take care of them, to love them, and to help them grow into beautiful flowers. There's nothing wrong with you. You just needed someone to tend to you better. You just needed better soil to grow in. But now, you gotta tend to yourself. You gotta start behaving, so that you can get outta here."
I said, "I can't behave, Grandmamma, because I'm evil. Some flowers are just ugly, Grandmamma. You know that. And, nobody wants the ugly and evil flowers. And, that's me. I'm the ugly and evil flower Grandmamma. That's why I always do bad things, Grandmamma. And, that's why I will always do bad things. That's why nobody wants me. I'm evil."
She said, "It's not your fault. It's not your fault that nobody wanted you. You're not evil. Sometimes good people do bad things."
I said, "NO! No, Grandmamma. I'm evil. My first word was blood. You're just making excuses. Just like always. You always make excuses for everybody, you bitch."
The doctors said she died from a stroke, but it was me. It was what I said. I called her a bitch and she died. I killed her because I'm evil.
I wish I could garden with her again. I wish we could be in the garden, like when I was a kid. I wish we could tend to the flowers and love them, so they can grow beautifully.
I can't because I'm evil.
We don't have flowers in jail, because jail's for evil people not pretty flowers. And, I'm evil.[/quote]
what a nice story is