Friday, August 17, 2012 8:55 PM
Hello earthlings!
In this post, I'd be posting up the story that I had created for my module, Art Of Story. If you're interested in reading the entire story, go ahead! (: If not, there's my other blog entry after this post, so scroll down!
Dave
Backstory
I will always remember of the day when my parents had passed away. The murdering was so quick, that no policeman in this city was ever able to find the culprit behind my parents’ death.
I was six years old then, when my parents had decided to bring me to watch the blockbuster movie, ‘Tomb Raider’. It was an action packed movie, which starred a famous actress, an Angelina Jolie of some sort. When we entered the movie theatre, I realized that it was fully packed. People jostled to find their seats, and when we finally found ours, the movie had just begun. In the movie, there were gunshots, flashes of fighting scenes, and when all of it was finally over, the sky had already turned into a blanket of darkness.
Father and Mother held my hand as they lead me to the car park, where our red Volkswagen was parked at. The air was still, and there was no one else but us in the area. Looking down at my feet, I playfully tried to synchronize my footsteps with my parents’.
Suddenly, they stopped walking.
I waited for them to walk on, but it seemed like they were frozen on their tracks. Something was wrong.
When I looked up, I saw five men, about five metres away from us. They all had masks on their faces, and the one in the middle sported a biker jacket. They certainly did not look friendly.
“…Mummy? Can we leave?” I whispered and tugged at her sleeve as the men started to approach us.
“Stand back.” My mother ordered, as she took a step in front and held onto my shoulders protectively.
Soon, the five men had surrounded us. All of them sported menacing grins, and I could feel my mother’s grip on me turned as cold as ice.
“What do you want?” My father said sternly.
“Nothing, sir. We came to say… Hello.” The man with the biker jacket said and smiled, as his eyes glanced from my father’s gold watch to me.
In a blink of an eye, he then took a silver knife out of his pocket. As I looked around frantically, I realized that the others were armed too. My mother must have noticed it too, as in a moment, her voice rang through the empty car park.
“Dave, run!” With a push, my mother tried to clear a way for me out as Father delivered a low blow onto the leg of the man with the jacket. Air escaped from my lungs rapidly as I ran faster than I had ever ran. When I looked back, I saw a single man chasing after me, while the others started beating Father up. I barely made a few metres away from the men, when the one chasing after me easily caught up and grabbed me by my shirt.
When I was dragged back to where my parents were at, my father’s face was already beaten to a pulp. His right eye swelled till his pupil could not be seen, and his leg was twisted into a weird angle. Unwilling to give in, Father grabbed the man’s trousers.
“L.. Let… them… go.” He pleaded.
“Get your filthy hands off me.” With one last kick onto my father’s face, he left him motionless on the ground.
“No!” My mother screamed, as the other men started to drag her to a wall, and pin her against it. Mother struggled against their hands, but even I know that it was of no use.
Holding the silver knife in his hands, the man with the jacket then started to walk towards my mother. As he stood in front of her, Mother then whimpered for her dear life.
“Please… Please let us go, I beg you.” Mother pleaded and she looked at the man, as he held the knife across her neck.
The man gave no mercy.
I watched in horror, as with just one slit, blood started spluttering out from Mother’s throat, turning her white chiffon blouse into a crimson red. Her struggles turned weaker, and she fought to stay alive. In a minute, the men loosened their grip on Mother and she stopped struggling with her knees giving way. Mother sunk to the ground, with her eyes wide open. She did not move, and her eyes stared coldly into space.
Turning around, the man with the jacket then looked at me. My eyes stayed glued onto Mother’s body, as it dawned onto me that both of my parents were dead. I tried to scream, but my voice could not escape from my throat.
“Finish him off.” The man commanded.
The man holding onto me pushed me to the ground, and stepped onto my stomach. I felt the whole of his weight on me, and I cringed in pain. He crouched above me, and raised his right fist. With one huge blow onto my nose, I blacked out.
“Dave. Wake up, please.” A familiar voice said, as I stared into an abyss of darkness.
Am I dead? Was I in heaven? Nothing seemed clear anymore.
“Dave, open your eyes, please.” The voice called again.
Who was that? I wondered. I strained my ears, to listen for that voice again. It was then I could faintly make out a rhythmic beeping sound from the background. It then struck me that the beeping came from a heart monitor, and that I was in a hospital. I wasn’t dead.
I struggled to open my eyes, and when I finally did, I was greeted with a glare of light, coming from the ceiling. In discomfort, I shielded my eyes with my hands.
“Dave! You’re awake!” The voice exclaimed. I looked to my left, and I saw Grandpa. Using my arms as a support, I struggled to sit up. A familiar pain formed on my stomach, and I groaned in respond. Grandpa lived in a small farm located at the south of Australia, and on every summer vacation, my parents would bring me there to visit him.
It was then I remembered.
My parents were dead. Murdered.
My heart ached almost immediately, and tears threatened to spill from my eyes. I held onto the bed rails, as my lungs heaved for air. Sorrow and anger overwhelmed me as the scenes of the murder flashed in my mind. I hugged my knees for comfort and soon, I was sobbing.
Standing up from his seat, Grandpa placed his arms around me and drew me into an embrace. “Oh Dave, everything will be alright. I’ll always be here for you. Do you hear me? Always.”
During my stay in the hospital, policemen visited me for investigations. My head throbbed as I was forced to repeat the events of that night. I was tired, and the repeated sighs that the policemen made as they walked out of the room slowly convinced me that those killers would never be found.
I was discharged a few days later, and after much paperwork, my custody was given to Grandpa, my next closest of kin. Bags were packed and things were cleared. Soon, I found myself sitting beside Grandpa in his truck, my luggage at the back, waving goodbye to the house that I had lived in ever since I was born. Grandpa placed his left hand on mine, and started the engine.
Life was tough without my parents. When I was enrolled into a new school, I felt out of place. On every morning, children streamed in, with their hands in their parents’. As for me, I only had Grandpa. Many had questioned me about the absence of my parents, and all the time, I had kept silent. Once, a brunette girl had approached me and asked, “Where are your parents?” I don’t know what came over me, but on that day, I snapped.
“They’re dead. My father was hit to death and my mother was slit by the throat. What about yours?”
Her eyes wide with horror, the brunette girl ran away screaming. She never spoke to me again.
Ever since that day, word had spread, and everyone that I knew started to treat me extra nicely. Whenever I had forgotten to bring my stationaries, classmates would immediately flock to me to lend me some, while the Fat Sam that sat behind me was never given any help. I hated it. Sometimes, I wished that I was Fat Sam. I wanted to be unnoticed. I wanted to blend into the walls. Life would be so much easier, so much less painful. Aren’t I a normal kid? After all, I’m just a kid... A kid without parents.
Of course, with the special attention, comes the jealousy. Those boys at the back, they started picking on me. My chair was often kicked, and when the teacher isn’t looking, they’d throw paper balls at me. I couldn’t do much, and I didn’t want to do anything about it either. No one will ever understand the pain that I’m enduring, not even Grandpa. Attracting more sympathy and attention was the last thing I wanted. And so, I endured. I endured the kicks, the snickers, and the stupid paper balls. Hatred and anger swallowed me, as I endured all of these till I entered high school.
By then, my blond fringe had made its way down to my cheeks, and I had taken a habit of wearing a grey hoodie to cover up my face. I’d walk to school, bag pack on my back, and hands in my pockets. But these weren’t enough to hide me from the jocks in school.
One day, I found myself facing them as I was walking home from school. It seemed like an ambush, as they slowly walked out from the two lanes of the forked road that I was heading towards to. Soon, I was surrounded by them. I immediately recognized Danny as one of them, the leader of the pack.
“Ah, the one with the hoodie.” Danny smirked as he observed me from head to toe.
“Leave me alone.” I muttered under my breath, as I tried to make my way pass them.
“Not so fast, boy. Let’s go somewhere else, shall we?” Danny replied and signalled his friends to grab me.
With that, I was grabbed by the shoulders, and I was forced to move along with them. I thought of retaliating, but judging from those bulging forearms they had formed from rugby games, I knew that I’d be asking for more trouble.
Soon, I was led to an alley, one that winded down to a green dumpster at the end. Danny and his friends then proceeded to take lighters out of their pockets, together with a brown stick, no longer than five centimetres. It didn’t look like a cigarette. Within the brown paper, was what seemed like grass. Within a minute, the brown sticks were lighted up, and the jocks were puffing on them.
“Isn’t that… Isn’t that weed?” I stuttered.
Danny then walk towards me, and blew a puff of smoke onto my face. The pungent smell of it made me cough in revulsion.
“Why, what a smart boy. Why don’t you try it?” Danny grinned, and challenged me for a puff.
I was about to decline his offer, when just then, I paused. How long more was I planning to hide? How long more was I planning to endure the same shit every single day? Blending into the walls, letting this pain suffocate me, wasn’t the bullying in elementary school enough? It’s time to pick myself up, and show the world that I do not need their sympathy. It’s time, for them to know that I am not weak.
Without any more hesitation, I took the stick from Danny, and smoked it. The pungent smell of weed filled my throat, and my eyes watered as my stomach threatened to spill out my lunch. But I was determined to get all of this together. I exhaled the smoke, and looked at Danny and the other jocks. They were clearly impressed.
From that day onwards, I was invited to join their clique. I was invited to night parties, and the days flew past with scenes of the night life, alcohol, girls and weed. I no longer rushed home immediately after school. On countless occasions, Grandpa had tried to stop me from my actions, but I had started to turn a deaf ear on him.
“Dave, wake up from this! What have you became? Look at yourself!”
“Shut up, and stay out of this.” I’d slammed the front door, and walk away.
With so much entertainment to satisfy ourselves with, we soon ran out of money. Weed was too expensive to get, and girls started to shun us when they realized that we were dead broke. Hence, on a Friday afternoon, Danny finally came up with a plan to get us back on track.
The plan was to corner Fred into the same alley that I was brought to, and extort as much money as we could from him. Fred was this rich and snobby nerd in our school, and everyone knew of how big his mansion was.
The plan was soon executed.
As soon as we spotted Fred walking out of the school gates, we lunged in and hauled him with us. Panic was written all over his freckled face as he struggled to break free.
“Hey! Let me go, this is intolerable, you pigs!” His whines were starting to frustrate me.
In a few minutes, we reached the alley. Danny then signalled for me to start the extortion.
“Give us all of your money.” I demanded fiercely, as I held Fred against the wall of the alley.
“To arrogant fools like… Like you? No!” Fred stuttered as he fought for his dignity.
Just as I was about to threaten him once more, Fred then laid his stick-like arms onto my shoulders, and pushed me. I stumbled back, and the back of my head hit the wall.
A push, and thousands of memories started to flood in my head. The night when my parents were murdered, the night when my father was beaten into a pulp. The night, when my mother was similarly pushed against a wall, and slit by the throat.
I was enraged. All the hatred that I had hidden deep down in my heart was unleashed. Everything overwhelmed me, and I saw red. I instantly grabbed Fred by his neck, and threw him onto the ground.
“What are you doing?” Fred shrieked.
Looking down, I glared at him.
I kneed his stomach, and I delivered a blow onto his nose. Blood soon flowed from it, and Danny and his friends started to cheer on for me. I felt another surge of anger, and I punched Fred again. And again. And again. The rage was uncontrollable.
“It’s shit like you that I despise, you hear that?” I shouted, and I hit Fred on his nose again.
Fred groaned.
“Dave, stop it, it’s enough!” I heard urgency in Danny’s voice as he spoke. Two other jocks then started to hold me back, but that angered me further.
Who are they to stop me? Am I not allowed to be granted power? Like how those murderers had gotten away scot-free?
With all of my strength, I pushed the jocks away, and continued raining punches onto Fred’s face.
When I finally ran out of breath, I stopped.
Fred wasn’t moving anymore. His eyes were rolled back, and his nose was broken.
“Jesus, what have you done Dave? You’ve killed him!” I looked at Danny, as his face turned pale.
“I… I didn’t mean to… I…” I came to my senses, and looking at my blood-stained hands, I realized that I’ve killed Fred.
I got up, and I ran. Blood pulsed through my body, as I tried to think of what to do.
Home.
That’s it. I’ll stay home, wash my clothes, or dump them somewhere, and no one would find out that it was me who killed Fred.
Yes, home.
When I reached home, I slammed the front door shut, and tried to catch my breath. All that running had left me tired, and the strength in my legs had left me. I fell to my knees.
“Dave, what happened?” Upon hearing the door slam, Grandpa awoke from his nap on the couch.
Grandpa made his way towards me, and his eyes widened at the sight of the blood on my hands.
“Dave! What have you done!” Grandpa looked at me and shook my shoulders, hoping for an answer.
“I’ve killed someone Grandpa, what should I do? Help me…” I said feebly, as I looked at his tear-stained face.
Grandpa was lost for words. He staggered back, and held onto the couch for support.
“Turn yourself in, son. You have to. It’s the only way.” Grandpa solemnly looked at me, and replied.
My heart stopped for a second.
“Turn myself in? Are you crazy, Grandpa? They’ll arrest me! I’ll be charged for murder!” I exclaimed.
Grandpa was reaching for the house phone.
“Grandpa, please, you’re supposed to help me!” I frantically shouted.
“I am helping you, Dave. I’m sorry.” With that, Grandpa took the phone, and dialled for the police.
Panic overwhelmed me, and without thinking, I snatched the phone away from Grandpa, and pushed Grandpa away.
A sickening thud was heard as Grandpa’s head landed on the ground first. I dropped the phone.
Remorse filled me as I realized of what I had just done. I rushed over to Grandpa, and I cradled his head. His breathing grew weaker.
“What have I done… Grandpa… I’m sorry… Please…” There was only one thing that I could do, and that was calling for an ambulance.
And I did it.
The ambulance soon came, and I was questioned. The police were called, and I was arrested.
With my hands handcuffed, I was brought into the police car, where I watched Grandpa being wheeled into the ambulance.
Charged for manslaughter, I was sentenced to a lifetime of imprisonment. There was no news of Grandpa. My blond hair was shaved, and I was thrown into a filthy prison cell. The days flew by, and I could not comprehend the guilt that ate me alive, the guilt of probably killing my own grandfather, who was only trying to save me.
Weeks passed, and on one fine day, I was called upon by the police warden.
“You have a visitor.”
Who was it? I wondered. I was pretty sure that Danny and the clique would never talk to me again, and my other relatives would never visit me.
“You have five minutes.” The warden said.
With that, I was lead to a room, and the sight of Grandpa greeted me.
“Grandpa?” I mouthed.
As I sat on the chair, with a telephone in front of me, I started to tear.
There he was, alive and well, my Grandpa.
We picked up the phone, and I held it dearly to my ear.
“Grandpa… I’m sorry that I hurt you… I love you, I do… I’m sorry…” I started sobbing, as I held on tightly to the phone, and looked at my Grandpa.
“Dave, It’s alright… everything will be alright…” Grandpa said gently into the receiver, tears streaming down his face.
With that, he put his right hand onto the glass pane that was separating us, and I did the same. For the first time in that few weeks, I felt a certain sense of warmth and comfort in me.
The End
So firstly, I'd like to thank those that actually took the time to read the entire story. I worked really hard on it, and to be honest, I actually take pride in this story. Secondly, I'd just wanna thank my facilitator, Serene, for her guidance. Without all of her lessons, I'd never be able to produce something like this. Thank you!
