This one is for the same Createive writeing class as before. this time I'm supposed to write a character driven story.
Life, for as long as I remember has been a swirling torrent of misery. For me every day is a constant reminder that I, 'Briant Littles' am nothing in this world. Every god forsaken day there is another tragedy. My first memories were tragedy.
When I was a child my mother died in desert storm. I never really got a chance to say goodbye. "Daddy why are they burying mommy." I asked my father but he gave me no answer. "Why daddy, make those bad men stop putting dirt on her, if they do than she wont be able to come out when she wakes up." youth ...
I lived in my fathers firm care for a few years after that happened, three horrible years. "Hey Briant." My father would say disarmingly. "Lets play a game, you know the rules."
"Our little secret," I would say with water starting to roll down my cheeks. He would take me into a dark room where we played a painful game. it wasn't until years later when I learned just what that game was.
Now I'm grown, a few years out of high school. No job, no girlfriend, no house, nothing. I looked into the grimy mirror, in the 7/11 bathroom. The edges of the mirror were chipped and some mold growing out from behind it. My short spiked blond hair clumped together in some spots like I had just slept in it, and indeed I had. I had fallen asleep after vomiting in the toilet to the side of me. I saw in the mirror my own face: The heavy eye shadow around those round gray eyes, The various nicks and cuts, The thin beard that followed the jawline, that was my face, when had it changed so much. My cheeks are bruised from the fight I got in last night, I don't even remember what the fight was about. I can see my arms resting comfortably on the sink. The large scars on both wrists seemed so old that new skin simply moved around it leaving that one piece of flesh to rot. I don't remember a time without them. My thin frame matched my hunger, and my hangover, telling me I had slept most of it off.
Like I said … misery.
The bathroom stall was dirty and disgusting. The floor was wet. the brick walls were chipped and the paint almost gone. Endless graffiti marks made the entire wall a montage of names, swear words and racial slurs. The lights burned into my eyes I couldn't look at the whole wall any more. I was too much. I picked out one of the larger writings and read it. "Know fear," and the next. "Were all dead." and a third "Hell hounds on your trail." I can't look at that dumb wall anymore.
I step out into the 7/11 store itself. Looking at the clock I see that only a few short hours have passed. I need to get some air. I walk outside in the darkness of morning. The edges of the horizon just barley showing the glow of light. Light that seems so obtainable but overpowered by darkness so it illuminates nothing in my path. Downtown Seattle is always dark it seems. Even when its broad daylight a aura of doom seems to hover over me as its dark storm clouds chew away at me. Chewing so slowly that any happiness that I have I see slowly torn away from me. Chewing into my flesh, the pain ... the pain.
I walk to a nearby shop and throw a brick through the window, run in and run off with a small bundle. I need it. I need it now and I can't wait for payday.
I walk down to the pier. The waters had always calmed me. The sound of the choppy water under my feet at pier 54, a small island of serenity in a otherwise dismal world. But today this small sanctuary I had created in my own head didn't help me. I felt just as miserable.
"Hey Briant." I turn to see one of my Friends. 'Tom' "Hey man I managed to win some sweet tickets to the show next week in a game of poker. You'll love it! It’s...”
I spun my whole body around and looked into his eyes. "I don't care anymore Tom, I just don't care about those things anymore!"
Tom frowned and started turning away. "Sorry Briant. I just thought you liked hanging out."
"Not tonight Tom." I turned back towards the water and placed my elbows on the railing over the water. "I'm sorry Tom but not tonight."
"Okay." He said in understanding. I always liked Tom. He respects your feelings and oftentimes is there for you when you’re down. But nothing could shake me out of it this time. Nor next time, nor any time in the future. Tom had been a good Friend though. I regret yelling at him like I did.
I look down at the water. The water of the Puget Sound was dark and cold. Its large volume seemed to hold untold mysteries. Like anything that ventured too unwittingly close would be swallowed by its boundless edges to never again see sunshine.
I climb up onto the railing. The wooden boards were just wide enough to stand on. It gave me a view I hadn't seen before. As the sun started creeping higher into the sky and orange fingers seemed to draw themselves out on the clouds. I pull out the stolen package.
I open the package and hold its heavy contents in my twitching hands. Not wanting to see the sun anymore I turn away towards the city streets. A few cars were stopping to see what was going on at the pier.
I place the round cylinder under my unsuspecting chin. The cold small circle was like Ice but still burned into my flesh.
The hammer says click.
I tip my body back towards the bay. so only my heels make contact with the wooden support under me.
and Bang ...
David-maddog Community Member 
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