"The fury in my mind" by John Ward
-
ShortStoryContest
- Posts: 41
- Joined: 01 Mar 2007, 07:47
- Bookshelf Size: 0
"The fury in my mind" by John Ward
The following story has been selected as a featured runner-up in our 2015 short story contest (Contest Theme - "The Self-Destructiveness of Vengeance and Hate")
"The fury in my mind" by John Ward
Tick, tock, tick, tock. That is the sound of the second hand of the clock ticking away on the wall. The only audible sound to be heard. The room covered in darkness, black shapes only seen. A silhouette of a man laid on the arm chair. A glass in his hand that reflected the only bit of light that crept into the room through a gap in the curtains. What sat on the chair was a shell of a man. Someone who has given up on life and desperately trying to find an answer at the bottom of a bottle. This damaged man’s name is Damien. Six months ago he had lost his son to a man who had not been paying attention to what was in front of him while driving. He crashed and killed his son. The man walked free. Damien never drank before, but he thought he would find solace in whisky, his new found friend. For those months that passed he had lost his job, his wife couldn’t look at him anymore because his face reminded him of their dead son Eric. He couldn’t focus on work, his grief was too much.
He leaned forward into the little bit of light. His face unshaven, hair long and a mess. Sunken eyes that depicted a man that cried for too long with sleepless nights. Damien had an anger inside of him. He seeks vengeance for the death of his child, retribution for the man who killed his son; his beloved Eric. Damien’s answer laid on top of the coffee table in front of him. The answer was in the shape of a 9mm pistol. Damien’s plan was to take the gun, find the man, kill him and take his own life. Something he had been thinking of for a while.
He took another swig of the whisky in his glass and just stared at the gun. It was surrounded by countless rings of dirt on the table. But the gun never moved an inch.
“You going to keep staring at it or you going to do something?” said a voice from the other side of the room. A black shadow stepped out from the darkness. It towered over Damien, but Damien didn’t care. He barely acknowledged its existence. A fragile mind brings many things to the surface. Your dark side for one.
The black figure moved forward and sat on the chair opposite. Grasping his hands together and placed one leg over the other, leaning back into the chair. He gave off the impression of a psychiatrist about do one of his sessions and Damien was the patient. What was interesting about the figure was that there was a small white circle in the centre of his forehead.
“He should’ve killed him already!” said another voice beside Damien. This figure was faceless too and his entire body the colour red. The black one was named Ebony and the red was named Wrath. These two appeared shortly after his wife left. His mind battling the situation reality had hit him with. His heart full of vengeance and hate, his mind undecided.
“I was wondering when you were going to show up.” Said Damien with a nasty tone. Not taking a single glance away from the gun.
“Why are you just staring at it? Why don’t you bloody use it!” said Wrath, his tone always a hateful hiss, his arms flailing about in impatient anger. Ebony sighed in disappointment. Those two were complete opposites. Wrath the side of violence, the container of his hate. While Ebony, the side of rational thought and logical thinking. Two sides at war and Damien’s mind was the battlefield.
“My dear Wrath you got to settle down. Your colour will run.” Chuckled Ebony and Wrath started to yell at him. Damien leaned back in the chair, blanketed by darkness once more. He felt comfortable here. It’s as if nobody could hurt him. His safe place.
“It is all your fault Damien, all of this.” Another voice, feminine in tone. She was perched on the dining table across the room. The voice was all too familiar. She was covered in black but her face was as clear as day. The face he remembered the day she left. His wife Eleanor. Her face was pale, lips the colour of cherries and her make up streaked down her face from the trail of her tears.
“If you were there, you could have stopped him going outside.” She said again, sorrow clear in her voice alongside her blaming tone.
“Nice of you to join us El.” Said Ebony.
El, the nickname that Damien had given her long ago. It felt so long.
Damien’s heart felt as if it were in a vice that was getting tighter and tighter as the seconds passed on the clock.
“I couldn’t have done anything. You know that.” Replied Damien. His voice that of a man that has given up on arguing. A defeated man that just wants this to be over.
“Lies!” she screamed. Her scream sounded higher, as if it would deafen him if he were closer, almost like a banshees scream. Ebony laughed and so did Wrath. They enjoyed this. A sick game to them.
“I needed you Damien. When Eric died.” She said.
“Don’t say his name.” replied Damien with a snarl. To him, it almost sounded like Wrath spoke the same words at the same time.
“Why did you distance yourself from me? I needed you!” she screamed once more, the pain in his ears returned.
He did not distance himself…or did he? He could not recall. He remembered lots of fights, lots of drunken moments he’d return home and his wife would begin to argue with him. Lots of smashed glass and sharp words.
“You left me, remember? You couldn’t stand the sight of me.” He said, still not taking his gaze from the gun.
“Is it really worth it Damien? This master plan you have. You think after killing him, and ending your own life will end all of this suffering? More people will suffer from your actions, you do realise that don’t you? Your wife will grieve another dead loved one and so too will the family of the one you kill.” Said Ebony as he leaned forward. He was right as always. The rational thinker, but he was the side he usually ignored. His hate burned too hot inside of him. He wanted to kill this person; with every fibre of his being he wanted him dead. He should not live for snatching away the future of his son. The son he missed dearly and could not live without. A parent should never outlive their child under any circumstance. He would gladly give up his own life, just for his son to be here again. He’d give anything to hear his laughter just one more time.
I miss him so much.
“He doesn’t deserve to live.” Said Wrath as he leaned in close to Damien. “He took your child away from you Damien. He deserves what’s coming to him!”
Damien drank once more, pouring some more whisky into the glass and dropping the empty bottle on the floor. It clanged on impact and rolled beneath the table. Wrath was right about that. Ebony was right too. A decision must be made. He leaned forward once more to check the clock. Three o’clock.
Damien inhaled a deep breath, brushing his fingers through his hair. It’s time. He downed the glass and then he stood up, being watched by the voices as he finally picked up the gun, picked up his keys and left the house.
“Finally!” said Wrath with glee as he followed behind Damien.
Damien got into his car, Ebony in the backseat, Wrath in the passenger and Eleanor nowhere to be found. He drove to a nearby park where he parked outside and entered. The trees rustled with the wind and Ebony and Wrath stood on either side of him. Damien pulled his hood over his face, sticking his hand into his jean pocket and the other into the pocket of the hoody, grasping the gun with shaking nerves. Across the distance was a man sitting on a park bench reading a newspaper. Short cropped ginger hair, a brown leather jacket, a pair of jeans and read the newspaper with a pair of spectacles that were perched on the bridge of his long nose. This man was the killer of his son.
“There he is. Do it…do it now!” coaxed Wrath.
“You can walk away from this.” informed Ebony. His arms folded across his chest. Nobody was around, so nobody would see him, he could get away with it. He would get away with it. He took a deep breath as he slowly walked forward. He could hear Wrath cheering in victory. Ebony walked with Damien.
“You don’t need to do this.” said Ebony trying to keep pace with Damien. He grabbed Damien’s shoulder.
“Stop. Look.” He said, pointing towards Damien’s target. The man put down his newspaper as a young boy dressed in red football gear and holding a football came running to him.
“I scored I scored!” cheered the little boy as he ran into the man’s arms. The man had a full smile on his face.
“Good boy my son. Told you, you would!” said the man to his child.
“Lets go get some ice-cream my little football star.” He said as the child replied with celebration. They walked towards Damien as Damien put his head down, not to be recognised.
“You were about to steal a sons father away from him. You are doing the right thing.” Said Ebony.
Damien turned to watch the man and his son walk away. Tears rushed down his face. He couldn’t control himself anymore. The hate in his heart turned to sorrow. He sat down on the bench, his face buried in his hands. Ebony patted his shoulder as Wrath disappeared into thin air. Damien grabbed the gun and placed it at his temple. He closed eyes and took a deep breath. With a squeeze of the trigger the gun clicked. Damien opened his eyes and squeezed again. He looked at the gun and noticed one thing. There was no clip, no ammo cartridge in the gun. He was about to kill a man with an empty gun. He threw the gun into the bin beside him and burst out into laughter. Ebony chuckled as he slowly disappeared.
"The fury in my mind" by John Ward
Tick, tock, tick, tock. That is the sound of the second hand of the clock ticking away on the wall. The only audible sound to be heard. The room covered in darkness, black shapes only seen. A silhouette of a man laid on the arm chair. A glass in his hand that reflected the only bit of light that crept into the room through a gap in the curtains. What sat on the chair was a shell of a man. Someone who has given up on life and desperately trying to find an answer at the bottom of a bottle. This damaged man’s name is Damien. Six months ago he had lost his son to a man who had not been paying attention to what was in front of him while driving. He crashed and killed his son. The man walked free. Damien never drank before, but he thought he would find solace in whisky, his new found friend. For those months that passed he had lost his job, his wife couldn’t look at him anymore because his face reminded him of their dead son Eric. He couldn’t focus on work, his grief was too much.
He leaned forward into the little bit of light. His face unshaven, hair long and a mess. Sunken eyes that depicted a man that cried for too long with sleepless nights. Damien had an anger inside of him. He seeks vengeance for the death of his child, retribution for the man who killed his son; his beloved Eric. Damien’s answer laid on top of the coffee table in front of him. The answer was in the shape of a 9mm pistol. Damien’s plan was to take the gun, find the man, kill him and take his own life. Something he had been thinking of for a while.
He took another swig of the whisky in his glass and just stared at the gun. It was surrounded by countless rings of dirt on the table. But the gun never moved an inch.
“You going to keep staring at it or you going to do something?” said a voice from the other side of the room. A black shadow stepped out from the darkness. It towered over Damien, but Damien didn’t care. He barely acknowledged its existence. A fragile mind brings many things to the surface. Your dark side for one.
The black figure moved forward and sat on the chair opposite. Grasping his hands together and placed one leg over the other, leaning back into the chair. He gave off the impression of a psychiatrist about do one of his sessions and Damien was the patient. What was interesting about the figure was that there was a small white circle in the centre of his forehead.
“He should’ve killed him already!” said another voice beside Damien. This figure was faceless too and his entire body the colour red. The black one was named Ebony and the red was named Wrath. These two appeared shortly after his wife left. His mind battling the situation reality had hit him with. His heart full of vengeance and hate, his mind undecided.
“I was wondering when you were going to show up.” Said Damien with a nasty tone. Not taking a single glance away from the gun.
“Why are you just staring at it? Why don’t you bloody use it!” said Wrath, his tone always a hateful hiss, his arms flailing about in impatient anger. Ebony sighed in disappointment. Those two were complete opposites. Wrath the side of violence, the container of his hate. While Ebony, the side of rational thought and logical thinking. Two sides at war and Damien’s mind was the battlefield.
“My dear Wrath you got to settle down. Your colour will run.” Chuckled Ebony and Wrath started to yell at him. Damien leaned back in the chair, blanketed by darkness once more. He felt comfortable here. It’s as if nobody could hurt him. His safe place.
“It is all your fault Damien, all of this.” Another voice, feminine in tone. She was perched on the dining table across the room. The voice was all too familiar. She was covered in black but her face was as clear as day. The face he remembered the day she left. His wife Eleanor. Her face was pale, lips the colour of cherries and her make up streaked down her face from the trail of her tears.
“If you were there, you could have stopped him going outside.” She said again, sorrow clear in her voice alongside her blaming tone.
“Nice of you to join us El.” Said Ebony.
El, the nickname that Damien had given her long ago. It felt so long.
Damien’s heart felt as if it were in a vice that was getting tighter and tighter as the seconds passed on the clock.
“I couldn’t have done anything. You know that.” Replied Damien. His voice that of a man that has given up on arguing. A defeated man that just wants this to be over.
“Lies!” she screamed. Her scream sounded higher, as if it would deafen him if he were closer, almost like a banshees scream. Ebony laughed and so did Wrath. They enjoyed this. A sick game to them.
“I needed you Damien. When Eric died.” She said.
“Don’t say his name.” replied Damien with a snarl. To him, it almost sounded like Wrath spoke the same words at the same time.
“Why did you distance yourself from me? I needed you!” she screamed once more, the pain in his ears returned.
He did not distance himself…or did he? He could not recall. He remembered lots of fights, lots of drunken moments he’d return home and his wife would begin to argue with him. Lots of smashed glass and sharp words.
“You left me, remember? You couldn’t stand the sight of me.” He said, still not taking his gaze from the gun.
“Is it really worth it Damien? This master plan you have. You think after killing him, and ending your own life will end all of this suffering? More people will suffer from your actions, you do realise that don’t you? Your wife will grieve another dead loved one and so too will the family of the one you kill.” Said Ebony as he leaned forward. He was right as always. The rational thinker, but he was the side he usually ignored. His hate burned too hot inside of him. He wanted to kill this person; with every fibre of his being he wanted him dead. He should not live for snatching away the future of his son. The son he missed dearly and could not live without. A parent should never outlive their child under any circumstance. He would gladly give up his own life, just for his son to be here again. He’d give anything to hear his laughter just one more time.
I miss him so much.
“He doesn’t deserve to live.” Said Wrath as he leaned in close to Damien. “He took your child away from you Damien. He deserves what’s coming to him!”
Damien drank once more, pouring some more whisky into the glass and dropping the empty bottle on the floor. It clanged on impact and rolled beneath the table. Wrath was right about that. Ebony was right too. A decision must be made. He leaned forward once more to check the clock. Three o’clock.
Damien inhaled a deep breath, brushing his fingers through his hair. It’s time. He downed the glass and then he stood up, being watched by the voices as he finally picked up the gun, picked up his keys and left the house.
“Finally!” said Wrath with glee as he followed behind Damien.
Damien got into his car, Ebony in the backseat, Wrath in the passenger and Eleanor nowhere to be found. He drove to a nearby park where he parked outside and entered. The trees rustled with the wind and Ebony and Wrath stood on either side of him. Damien pulled his hood over his face, sticking his hand into his jean pocket and the other into the pocket of the hoody, grasping the gun with shaking nerves. Across the distance was a man sitting on a park bench reading a newspaper. Short cropped ginger hair, a brown leather jacket, a pair of jeans and read the newspaper with a pair of spectacles that were perched on the bridge of his long nose. This man was the killer of his son.
“There he is. Do it…do it now!” coaxed Wrath.
“You can walk away from this.” informed Ebony. His arms folded across his chest. Nobody was around, so nobody would see him, he could get away with it. He would get away with it. He took a deep breath as he slowly walked forward. He could hear Wrath cheering in victory. Ebony walked with Damien.
“You don’t need to do this.” said Ebony trying to keep pace with Damien. He grabbed Damien’s shoulder.
“Stop. Look.” He said, pointing towards Damien’s target. The man put down his newspaper as a young boy dressed in red football gear and holding a football came running to him.
“I scored I scored!” cheered the little boy as he ran into the man’s arms. The man had a full smile on his face.
“Good boy my son. Told you, you would!” said the man to his child.
“Lets go get some ice-cream my little football star.” He said as the child replied with celebration. They walked towards Damien as Damien put his head down, not to be recognised.
“You were about to steal a sons father away from him. You are doing the right thing.” Said Ebony.
Damien turned to watch the man and his son walk away. Tears rushed down his face. He couldn’t control himself anymore. The hate in his heart turned to sorrow. He sat down on the bench, his face buried in his hands. Ebony patted his shoulder as Wrath disappeared into thin air. Damien grabbed the gun and placed it at his temple. He closed eyes and took a deep breath. With a squeeze of the trigger the gun clicked. Damien opened his eyes and squeezed again. He looked at the gun and noticed one thing. There was no clip, no ammo cartridge in the gun. He was about to kill a man with an empty gun. He threw the gun into the bin beside him and burst out into laughter. Ebony chuckled as he slowly disappeared.
