Filed under: Generalizations | Tags: hate, heaven, hell, humanity, language, love, redemption, short story, sins, stories, story
Writer’s Note: So now the story ends. I was reading a lot of Russian literature when I wrote this and re-watching LOST. Now, I know not many people were able to show LOST the commitment it required, but the inter-personal relationships between strangers was intriguing to me. So thanks for reading, I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
***
The man in the sunglasses was still standing and had been staring at the old man for some time now. He appeared to be deeply amused by their situation and appraised the commuters with expectancy. The passengers were becoming more and more agitated. Whispers had begun to circulate the compartment. At one point a middle-aged woman of apparent prosperity attempted to start a conversation with Nick. He pointedly ignored her, refusing to allow the mass fright claim one more victim.
“He thinks no one can see him but you. But I can see the bugger. I can see him cause I’m going to hell, just like you are,” the old man said. He was staring pointedly at Nick and suddenly it became clear. He turned to the man in the sunglasses, who had been watching the passengers and particularly Nick with interest. He smiled at Nick as if to confirm his suspicions.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZT! The lights came back on and the train’s engine started with a CLUNK and a hum. The train jerked forward suddenly and threw the passengers into each other. They screamed in shock and clamoured unsteadily to their feet as the train to confidently moved forward, unto the next stop.
Nick turned to the man in the sunglasses to find that he’s no longer there. Up ahead of him the sun shines brightly at the end of the tunnel and the train moves them out of the darkness and into the light.
THE END
Filed under: Generalizations | Tags: culture, greed, hate, heaven, hell, humanity, love, short story, stories, story, the devil
***
The crying woman was winding down. She was slowly moving down the scale from hysterical to catatonic and was at the point of softly whimpering and mumbling about their impending doom. Once in a while Nick could catch the words “we” and “die”. Almost everyone who was standing when the train stopped had since sat down on any empty seats of the floor. Almost everyone. The man in the sunglasses was still standing and was surveying the rest of the passengers with a slight smile playing on his lips.
“SHUT UP!” this was from one of the teenage girls who had stopped giggling a long time ago. Her cheeks had turned a bright pink and her fury was evident on her face.
Nick watching this interaction with interest. The young girl’s anger seemed to fill the train compartment with a red haze. The whimpering woman leaned away from the close proximity of the teenagers face. She took a deep breath and her hysterical crying started again. The teenage girl reached back and she slapped the woman accross the face hard.
SMACK!
“I told you to shut the fuck up!” she screamed. Her friend leaped out of her seat and managed to get a hold of the girl.
“Ashley! Stop yelling at her! Can’t you see she’s upset! Just sit down,” her friend said as she tried to wrestle Ashley into her seat.
People were watching this exchange with a shocked surprise. The old man had finally woken up and was surveying the situation with a keen intelligence. The train had been stopped for ninety minutes now.
***
Filed under: Generalizations | Tags: culture, hate, heaven, hell, humanity, language, love, short stories, stories, story, the devil, writing
On a side note, I didn’t realize until I checked later, but my letter to Sarah was my 100th post! I actually can’t think of a more appropriate post for that date. So let me take this time to thank my readers, for coming out and continuing to stick with The Lifespan of a Fly. I enjoy writing it (for the most part…. that’s right ginger, I’m looking at you and your tireless “have you posted yet? You know, it’s been a while since you posted. What school work? Whatever, just post something…”) and I’m glad that most of you enjoy it. To another 100 posts!
***
The funeral was scheduled for one o’clock and Nick was running late. Jerry Hugh had hung himself last Saturday. Nobody knew that it was more than a stomach bug until Tuesday, when his landlord, upon the insistence of his family, opened his apartment and saw him hanging from the ceiling, face purple and swollen, eyes bulging nearly out of their sockets.
Nick didn’t want to go to the funeral. He had better things to do then go to the funeral.
“I have clients,” he argued to Frank Stanton at drinks the night before.
“We all do,” Frank snorted. “Your clients can wait until Monday. Don’t even try to get out of this Nick. You, above everyone else, is obligated to go.” Nick felt his face flush and his temper rise at this.
“How am I singled out here? If Jerry had done a better job protecting his client relations than he wouldn’t have been in the situation he was,” Nick argued.
“I imagine the whole losing his house, and wife, and children probably made it a little hard for Jerry to concentrate on work. You should be more sympathetic, Nick. You stole his clients—,”
“He was neglectful!”
“And then you think about skipping the funeral of the same guy, who just so happened to hang himself last Saturday. That’s just low.”
Nick reflected on this conversation as he was hailing a cab. It’s not my fault. Nick tried to convince himself. You can’t blame a guy for trying to get a head up. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there. Jerry should have understood that. My father would have.
Jumping into a taxi, Nick rearranged his expensive emerald cufflinks and sped off to attend the funeral of the guy he helped to kill.
***
Filed under: Generalizations | Tags: devil, English, evil, good, heaven, hell, humanity, language, short stories, stories, the devil
***
The lights on the train were still off and somewhere a child was softly crying. Nick could hear its mother shushing it unconvincingly. Nearby someone was humming. The tune reminded Nick of soft summer evenings, clear skies, and a longing only a lover scorned could feel. Nick felt sad listening to the singer and he couldn’t say exactly why he felt that way.
Pop! Pop! Pop! The train’s emergency lights flickered on and Nick glanced around him. The giggling teenage girls were huddled close and for once were silent and ashen faced. The old man had apparently missed all of the action and was still asleep with his head resting against the window. And above all else, the man in the sunglasses was still staring at Nick. Even though he couldn’t see his eyes, Nick could feel them burning into him as the man examined him.
“So friend, what brings you to this train at this time?” asked the man.
“I was on my way home to –,” Nick started when he was rudely interrupted by hysterical crying of a woman a few seats ahead of him. She was holding a young boy tightly against her chest and was rocking back and forth. A familiar feeling of digust rose in his chest. Nick looked away and found himself staring into the obscured eyes of the strange man. He still had not taken off his sunglasses.
“We’re going to die! I just know it!” the hysterical woman cried. The train had been stopped for thirty minutes.
***
Filed under: Generalizations | Tags: hate, heaven, hell, humanity, language, life, lifestyle, love, short story, stories, story
***
“Nick! Nick, please don’t leave me! I’ve done so much for you and now you’re leaving! You’re a bastard! An asshole! A prick! I hate you! I wish you would just die! I can’t believe you’d do this to me! After everything I’ve done for you! All of my sacrifices for what? For you! That’s what!”
Shelley punctuated this last bit by throwing a shoe a Nick’s head. He tried to duck out of the way but was a little too late and the high-performance running shoe smacked him in his left ear.
His ear ringing and throbbing with pain, Nick stole into the bedroom and locked Shelley out in the hallway to pound and shout and in general try to break down the door. He wasn’t even trying to fold his clothes nicely anymore. Frantically, he shoved his suits into his suitcase, ignoring the wrinkles he knew he’d have to get dry-cleaned out. He grabbed a few of his favorite books and he grabbed Molly, his orange tabby cat, the only thing that was truly his in their relationship. The apartment, the furniture, the entertainment, even the food, all of that was Shelley’s. Only Molly belonged to Nick alone.
He unlocked the door and easily pushed past Shelley’s lithe figure. Carrying his bag, and Molly’s kennel, Nick paused at the door. He studied Shelley’s terribly sad face. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying and there were streaks of black running down her cheeks and along her chin. Her long copper coloured hair had come loose from it’s normally perfect updo and she was still wearing her slip, having lost interest in changing when Nick told her that he was moving out, right now. How did I ever think that such a sloppy looking woman was right for me? My father was right all along, I deserve better than some secretary. I am better bred than that. He thought of saying these things to Shelley. Maybe if he did she would empathize with him. Maybe she would understand why he needed to leave. Instead he said:
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I wish you the best.”
He heard her cry of anguish as he shut the door and walked away from the woman who loved him forever.
***
Filed under: Generalizations | Tags: fantasy, fiction, heaven, hell, humanity, language, short fiction, short stories, short story
Disclaimer: I’m going to try something different over the next few weeks. I don’t have time to blog because of finals, etc. You know, super stress time with little or no sleep. Seriously, I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night, mentally screaming “WHY AM I SLEEPING?!?!?! I have writing to do!!!” So anyhow, I’m posting portions of a short story I wrote a while back. I don’t share much of my fiction, mainly because I’m not even sure how I feel about it. But, I hope you enjoy it, and I promise, give me two weeks and I’ll be complaining again.
Last stop for Resolution – Part I
It was a lazy afternoon in May. The type of afternoon that makes people knock-off work early and enjoy one of the first nice days since the beginning of spring. This is exactly what Nick had in mind that Thursday. He was standing on the train and day dreaming about sitting on his back porch in shorts and drinking a beer while he watched couples and children walking and playing. To his right two young girls were leaned close together whispering and would occasionally burst into an abrupt bray of adolescent giggling. To his left an old man slept, his head leaned against the window, snoring loudly. The old man smelled like alcohol and Nick avoided getting too close to him, as if the man’s drunken stupor might be contagious. Standing beside Nick was a man who looked to be about his own age. He wore a bomber-style leather jacket and dark sunglasses, although they were in a train and were underground.
“Nice day,” the man said. Startled by the seemingly random conversation Nick glanced around to see who the man might be talking to. There weren’t many candidates. Unwilling to be drawn into a conversation with a stranger who wore sunglasses in the dark, Nick nodded his agreement.
“Yup, days like this make you really feel alive don’t they? We spent four months of the year hibernating, avoiding the winter chill and when spring finally comes, well it’s so hard to resist isn’t it?” The man leaned close to Nick while he spoke. No longer could Nick feign polite interest. The cramped quarters of the train forced him to look directly at the strange man. He stared into the depths of the man’s sunglasses and wondered the colour of his eyes.
“Ngh—,” Nick said as the train suddenly screeched and lurched forward. The wheels screamed loudly and he was slammed into the man as the train came to an abrupt halt. Stunned, the passengers of the train looked around them as if they expected that maybe one of them might know what’s going on.
“Is everyone alright?” a voice called and there were general mummers of agreement.
“My friend,” said the man in the sunglasses, “I don’t think I’ve ever been better.”
***
The Lifespan of a Fly 