Dreamer (Flash-fiction)

A piece that I wrote, inspired by Chuck Wendig's blog, "Terrible Minds". Flash-fiction, 230 words.           

 Dreamer

             Waking up in the morning is bullshit. The alarm blaring in my ear every goddamn day. It has to be causing some sort of long-term psychological damage. A mindless drone. Every time the clock flashes 5:30, my mind screams in agony. Why must you take me away from my dreams?

            The alarm is least of my worries. Every day is more boring than the last; just stare at the cubicle wall. No time for love. No love to be found. Shame and sorrow tremble on the fault line of agony. I don’t know how much longer I can last in the circumstance. Corporate is oblivious to my wants, and needs. My mind is consumed by shameless white screens.

            “Ahhhrrgghhh!” I release in a guttural roar. The walls are crashing down in an explosion of angst. Walls are the recipient; my rage the ballista. The oil change can wait, and fuck the cable company. Bloodying my hands on the wall just isn’t enough. Life has become a routine. I’m a bust.

            I never had a reason for the gun. Zombie apocalypse, perhaps. Haven’t hunted in years; thanks to my asshole dad. My family left me years ago. I guess the future is inevitable.  

            “Relax,” I say to myself out loud. Then I pulled the trigger, and my world crashed down. 

            I woke up at my desk to my phone ringing.

            

Prologue - Cooked

Excerpt from the manuscript "Cooked"

Cooking wasn’t just a job for Jason Miller; it’s a lifestyle. Jason loved everything about it. He loved the pub he cooked at. He loved the free drinks after a long shift. The girls were all a ton of fun. Jason’s coworkers were close friends, and they partied almost every weekend. Sure, he may not make much money, but all he really cared about was that he had enough to get by. Jason loved his life in every aspect of it. Being a cook was the shit.

            Every day Jason had the same routine. He would wake up, and before he was even out of bed he would spark up a cigarette. There was no better way to start the day off for him. While Jason smoked his first cigarette, he made a pot of coffee. Then he took his medication; which included medical marijuana. Jason loved wake and bake. It was Jason’s favorite time of day. After his morning ritual, Jason showered and got ready. He loved his routine. Jason loved the way his life was going for him. It was always fun. Jason pretty much did what he wanted.

            Jupiter Hills was a small town. Everyone knew everyone. The schools sucked. The people sucked, too. It wasn’t really the kind of place Jason wanted to be, but what could he do? It sure wasn’t his fault his parents decided to settle down in bum fucking Egypt. Jupiter Hills was like a black hole to Jason. No matter where he went, and what he tried to do with his life, he just came back home. Jupiter Hills just kept sucking Jason back in.

Jason’s dad was a prison guard at Jupiter Hills Penitentiary. Perhaps that had something to do with why he was always such a prick to Jason. His dad was always saying, “My job is the most stressful job in the country.” Bullshit. Jason’s dad never changed diapers for a living, did dishes, or waited tables for terrible tips. Jason could think of about a thousand different shitty jobs that were just as stressful as being a corrections officer, or more. Jason and his father didn’t get along much.

Jason’s mom was a professional medical marijuana caregiver; and a sweet one, at that. She was Jason’s caregiver. More so, she was Jason’s best friend. He was always close to his mother; partly because his father was always such an asshole, and partly because she treated Jason like her friend. It was never awkward between Jason and his mother. She was always there when Jason needed her. That was why it was hard for Jason to leave Jupiter Hills. Jason was a mommy’s boy.

            Jason was a cook at the Shamrock Pub. They had the best food, the best booze, and the best atmosphere in town. His boss was a bad-ass, too. Jason couldn’t even imagine working for someone else. Steve Phillips wasn’t the ordinary restaurant owner. He lived, ate, and breathed the pub. Jason had a lot of shitty cooking jobs in his day, and no one treated his employees as good as Steve did. Jason was making well over minimum wage. He got a vacation. The best part of all was that he always had a job. There were several times where Jason should have been fired, but Steve kept bringing him back. Jason loved his boss, and his job. He pretty much had it made.

            Nothing compared to life in the fast lane. That’s exactly what being a cook meant to Jason. There were the killer rushes, all the asshole customers, and shitty pay to put up with. All of it was worth being a cook to Jason. None of the bullshit that he had to put up with mattered. Those were the best days of Jason’s life, and he didn’t ever want them to end.

Detroit Rising

   The rise of the Detroit Lions over the past year is one that Lion’s fans will never forget. Thanks to the rising young stars on Detroit’s roster, the team boasted a 10-6 record. Mathew Stafford threw for a franchise record 5,038 passing yards. Calvin Johnson, known to Detroit fans simply as Megatron, racked up over 90 catches for 16 touchdowns. If the Lions are able to rework Johnson’s contract to keep him in Detroit, Stafford to Megatron is something that fans will be hearing for a long time. The Lion’s offense should get a little better next season with two young running backs returning, but it remains to be seen if Jahvid Best and Mikel Leshoure will be healthy for a whole year. If they can stay healthy, or if the Lions can bring in a veteran back to help carry the load, then the sky is the limit for this young offense.

      Detroit’s defense was supposed to be the backbone of this football team. With a few injuries, and a few inconsistencies, the Lion’s defense still needs to grow as a group. Several instances during the season worried Detroit’s fans about how mature the defense is as a group. Stephen Tulloch and DeAndre Levy lead the team in tackles. The Lion’s defensive line has really got to step it up next year and take some of the load off of their linebackers, and their secondary. Re-signing Cliff Avril is a big step in the right direction. Avril himself was responsible for seven turnovers, and two touchdowns. Detroit’s defense will need to start to play smarter, as well as play harder.

       Detroit fans have waited a long time to talk about their team in the playoffs. This year was a dream come true for a lot of fans. Jim Schwartz, the Detroit Lions head coach, is taking the team in the direction it needs to go. The next step for the Detroit Lions is to win a playoff game. After the Lions beat the Chargers to secure their playoff spot, Jim Schwartz said, “There will be a time when we don’t celebrate making the playoffs, but that won’t be tonight.” These words are going to be remembered for a long time in Detroit.

Desperate Farm-wife

An excerpt from the short story, "Desperate Farm-wife."

 For my mother.
      
     Abruptly, Elle was struck in the back of her head with something hard. Screaming aloud, she fell into the pool of coagulated blood.  Elle kicked and thrashed wildly, but it didn’t do her any good. All she did was cover her body even more in the disgusting liquid. Panic filled Elle. She was screamed and kicked like a boar caught in a net. All she had to do was stand up and run, but she just couldn’t get back up. Every time she tried, Elle fell back down; she was a drunken imbecile. Then she finally got a glimpse of her attacker.

      It was indeed Elle’s dead husband. Animate in the fact that his parts were moving, but the lurching motions he moved with proved that his existence was not natural. His body parts had been dissembled, and there was no way of telling how they were being held together. It was a sick puppet show. Arms and legs flailed wildly as the walking corpse walked. His glazed eyes and face were absolutely expressionless. His head was completely detached at the shoulders, but hung limply to one side. This had to be some sort of nightmare, because what Elle was seeing was surely impossible.

      Elle screamed as loud as she could; she really didn’t care who heard her. She only cared that someone would come save her. Elle was frozen with fear as the zombie of a man approached. She could hear faint breathing behind her, but she had no idea what it was. Elle was far to petrified by the sight of her reanimated husband to look and see what approached. Seconds passed that felt like hours, and then everything happened faster than Elle could comprehend.

     

Father

Look at the sky. What do you see? I see a whole world on top of me. 

Freedom is expressed in the little girls’ laughter. These chains hold me tight; I’m imprisoned forever.

My ignorance was lost in the blink of an eye. Is that what you see when you look at the sky?

The glee my girls see is my world ripped asunder. Magnificently crafted; they’re my two greatest blunders. 

Honor and integrity I pass unto my seed. With these few words, a father’s soul bleeds.

This bandage was so finely crafted. Quickly replicated, but never subtracted. These kids stole the show, and it’s being perfectly acted.

The saline falls down, though not brought by depression. It’s brought at the sight of a father’s obsession. 

The beauty I see when I look at our conception it the beauty in me that's been put to the question.

Sickening

      The sun was beginning to rise over the bleak expanse of desert. The small pool of water that Damien had found the night before would soon evaporate. Cacti could not support the man for much longer; he had already been lost in this wasteland for two days, or longer. Damien grabbed his hat, which he had fashioned from an old newspaper blowing in the wind, and placed it on his head. He filled his belly with water from the shallow pool and soaked his button up shirt in the cool liquid. He would have to find relief soon, or he would die within a few hours.

      It was his fault; most everything was. He just did not know when to stop gambling. The fight scene was growing in Las Vegas, and there was plenty of money to be made. There was also plenty of money to be lost. Damien was twenty-five grand in debt with the Suarez brothers. It was a small wonder they had even let him live, but wandering through the nothingness of sand and heat was better than dying. He had to find help eventually.

       Damien pushed on through the desert, cursing his god as he trudged through the ankle deep sand. There was no way for him to stop sobbing, and he even thought himself that he sounded like a fool. The sun was a quarter of the way over the horizon now, and Damien’s whole body was on the brink of collapsing. His body moved in lurches and stumbles. He was doomed to wander the desert like a brainless zombie. Damien’s throat was well beyond parched to a point that it felt like dust. His tongue felt like a sandpaper covered rock; it felt foreign to his mouth. The man had actually contemplated cutting it off. Damien just figured it would help him to breathe easier, but he really had no means to do it.

      Suddenly, Damien could hear the sound of water. The noise of a flowing stream filled his head, and it was pure rapture. Damien was drunk in the sound of life. Bliss filled Damien as he giggled with excitement. He just might make it out of the desert alive, after all. With a new pep to his step, Damien continued over the next sandy hill.

      There it was; the most beautiful thing Damien had ever seen in his god forsaken life. A tiny, gentle stream was gurgling its way through the sun baked sand. The edge of the stream was dry and crackled, but the center harvested gorgeous sparkling water. Saliva sprang to life in Damien’s mouth at the site of the water, and for a moment he didn’t even think he could get there fast enough. Stumbling through the deep sand, Damien reached the stream within a few minutes.  

      When he did get there, Damien gorged himself on the life-saving stream. There was no describing the feeling of water touching his tongue. It did little do repair his damaged throat, but the feeling of cool water rushing over his wounds was heavenly. Damien’s tongue soaked up the water like a deprived sponge. The water tasted like blood.

      Something strange started happening to Damien moments after he had finished filling his belly with the pleasant stream. He started to feel sick, and his vision was blurred. His whole head felt fuzzy. What was happening to him? Abruptly, Damien doubled over and vomited out all the water he had consumed. It was a terrible feeling for Damien, and he was left heaving in the fetal position. Blood specked the water that he sprawled over the rocky ground. It was torture. His belly ached from the heaving, and the dizziness he’d felt walking through the desert had increased tenfold. Damien was doubled over on the ground, and the heat of the sand was burning his expose skin. Damien continued vomiting blood profusely as he slowly died. He had consumed too much water at one time, and essentially drowned himself in his salvation. One final though crossed Damien’s mind as he died; at least those stupid motherfucking Suarez brothers won’t get another dime out of me.

Neighbors...

     The incessant pounding was driving him crazy! Banging on the walls, and slamming the door all day long. Laughing all the while they drove him insane. These people had it out for him, he knew it. They just wanted to make Adam mad. There was nothing he could do to keep his rage held back any longer. Adam’s neighbors had waked him repeatedly in the past, and tonight was the night he put an end to their disrespect. Something had to be done about it. No one understood that he needed his quiet. Those bastards had ruined his atmosphere!
      Adam wasn’t crazy; not any crazier than the average Joe. True, he did lose his temper sometimes. Who didn’t? How many people out there, in this sadistic world, actually did keep their tempers at bay? Everyone loses their head, once in a while, he thought. Besides, it pissed him off so bad when his neighbors slammed the damn door all day! No, there was nothing wrong with Adam. He just loses his temper every once in a while. Adam especially lost his head when those disrespectful teens next door banged on the walls all day, and all night. He was especially irate that they had ruined his atmosphere.

      Adam didn’t plan on hurting anyone. He liked most people. The only thing he didn’t like about his neighbors was that they wake him in the night. That’s all! Other than that, they are good kids. No, Adam did not want to hurt anyone. He just thought maybe he’d ask them to stop. Slowly, he made his way over to the apartment door. Just before Adam reached it, there was a loud bang on the wall, and it made him jump a little. Fool, he thought. I should be expecting the bangs by now. The fact that he wasn’t, just made Adam even angrier.

      He reached the door, and by now Adam had steam rolling out of his ears. His face was bright red, and the veins at his temples protruded outward violently. Ripping open the door, Adam stomped out of his apartment towards the perpetrators. He was furious at those invalids; his heart was beating rapidly, and sweat was rolling off his balding head. Adam wasn’t crazy. Crazy people hurt other people, and Adam would never hurt anyone. All he wanted was his quaint atmosphere back. 

      Adam reached his neighbors door, but paused for a minute before knocking. He heard what sounded like a group of young girls laughing, and carrying on about whom is going on the next beer run. What could they be doing to make that much racket? It was well beyond irritating. Suddenly, the door rushed open, and there stood the group of young women. The girls were clearly startled by Adam’s sudden appearance, and their shock just added to Adam’s rage.  

      “What do you want, weirdo?” asked a small girl with short brown hair. Her skin had a milky complexion, and looked smooth to the touch. For a brief moment, Adam was thinking about how it would feel running his hand over her curves. Then his anger came rushing back to him in a tsunami of angst.

      “I want my atmosphere back,” Adam barely managed to get the words out of his throat. He was so angry the words curdled in the back of his throat before they ever reached his tongue, and his words came out in a stutter.

      “What the fuck is wrong with you, creep?!” said another young lady with long red hair, and a slightly ugly, pimpled face. She started to shut the door in his face, but Adam caught it with an outstretched arm before it shut fully. 

      “I want you to be quieter!” Adam was really struggling to get the words out of his mouth now. These kids just didn’t understand Adam, and it was frustrating him badly.

      “Help!” screamed one of the young girls, and then all hell broke loose. One of the teens, the ugly redhead, tried making a break for the door, but Adam caught her. Throwing the girl across the room, Adam started howling, “I did not want to hurt you! You made me so angry!”

      The girls were all screaming now, and it was driving Adam insane. He slammed the door shut behind him as he stormed towards the girls. There was no stopping Adam now; the fools would learn just how upset they had made him. The scene was complete pandemonium as the girls all struggled to get away from Adam. Nothing made him angrier than seeing these brats screaming, and crying at him like he was the bad guy! They were the ones that had ruined his atmosphere.

      A small blonde girl came running at Adam with a knife, from the kitchen, but Adam saw her coming the whole way and quickly had her knife hand neutralized. Grabbing her by the wrist, he swiftly kicked the girl in the side of the knee, and her bone made a sickening pop. She crumpled in pain, and screamed in agony as Adam started beating her in the face. Why wouldn’t she shut up? He pounded with fists and elbows until the girl was not screaming anymore. She was completely still; Adam had taken her life. The girl’s face was a bloody mess, and hardly recognizable. In fact, he could have sworn the young blonde had been born a redhead. 

      “You killed her, you fucking freak!” the natural redhead screamed at the top of her lungs. The girl sounded ridiculous. Did she really think she could confront Adam? He wasn’t planning on letting the girl live, especially since she had called him a freak. Adam wondered what color her hair would turn when her face was soaked in blood.

      Charging at her with the knife in hand, Adam speared her to the ground with ease. The girl was tough, but Adam was a brute. He easily overpowered the small woman. She really had no chance against the monster that Adam had become. Adam stuck the knife in her belly, and smiled as his hand was warmed by her blood.

      Slowly bringing the blade up her sternum, Adam spoke to the girl, “You should be more respectful in your next life.” He was really starting to enjoy this. Reaching in the gaping hole that he had created in her belly, Adam pulled out the girls entrails and wrapped them tightly around her neck. She kicked weakly, but it did no good at all. No one would know how the girl died, either from blood loss, or asphyxiation. At least, not until there was an autopsy.

     Adam rose slowly from his work, and it brought a grin to his face. The destruction that he had caused was so beautiful. It was like looking at a painting that he had worked hard to create. Adam was proud of the pain he had caused the young woman, and even more proud at the creativity he felt when taking her life. For a brief moment, Adam was god.

     Turning towards the last young lady, Adam winced a bit. “I told you, I didn’t want to hurt you,” Adam said in a small voice that wasn’t much more than a whisper. “I just wanted it quiet.”

     “I’m sorry! So, so, so sorry,” the young lady stammered. “I didn’t mean to do anything, I swear. I swear I won’t do it again, I promise.”  

      Slowly, the blood soaked beast, Adam, made his way over to the teen. She really was beautiful. Her blue eyes shimmered in the overhead fluorescent lights. Her supple breast rose and fell dramatically with her gasping breaths. Adam knew he could not let her live, but he did contemplate it. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, least of all a beautiful young lady. Adam glanced around at the grizzly scene, and then he let his eyes settle back on the woman sobbing in the corner. He started shaking his head, and then he struck. One single blow with the knife to the young woman’s temple was all it took. He stuck the blade in, up to its handle, and he left it there. 

      Adam got up, gingerly, and made his way back to the door. There was no crying, no screaming, no banging on the walls, or any slamming of the door. It was silent. Peaceful at last, Adam would have the atmosphere he needed. He approached the door, stepping over the redhead that lay sprawled in her own blood. Grasping the handle with a bloody hand, he pulled the apartment door open. For the first time in a while, Adam felt alive. Really, felt alive. Adrenaline coursed through his blood.

      Suddenly a hole opened in the side of Adam’s face. Blood splattered the wall, as the sound of a gunshot rang out throughout the halls. Adam’s jaw unhinged, and a good portion of his face slid down the open apartment door. Adam crumpled into a pool of his own blood, as the apartment security guard ran past him into the blood soaked abode. That bastard had figured Adam out. Ringing filled Adam’s ears, and he slowly lost his consciousness. Adam would not have the quiet atmosphere that he desired, after all.