goji2099
01-09-2004, 08:36 PM
Warning!! Some content of this story is extremely graphic. Not to an
extreme, but I have gotten enough complaints for me to warrent saying
this. This is also part of my love of writing "Short Scenes" and is
also basically the type of thing I usually write (I mean with the
morals involved, not content)
The End of the Pain
Matthew Pniewski
She lived her life in suffering. She had never experienced
happiness within her twelve years of life. He would smoke and drink,
and sometimes hit her. Her mother would ignore this, because she did
not want to get hurt as well. It was impossible for her not to see
the cigarette burns on her daughters arms. Pandora did not speak of
this, nor did the mother who ignored this.
About two o'clock in the morning she woke up. But it was not
as if she had been sleeping. She spent most of the time crying,
trying to forget about the pain. She brought the razor to her wrists
on many occasions, but it hurt to much and she would never be able to
finish it. It felt too much like the shards of glass that were always
in her feet. This would never end, she decided, unless she brought an
end to it.
She walked into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of milk.
She immediately dumped it. Nobody controled her. She would now be the
one in charge. If she could be in charge, she wouldn't be hurt
anymore. She filled the glass with ice and poured a beer. She drank
it fast and moved to the drawer where the silverware was kept. She
picked up a butter knife. Was she going to make a sandwich? No. Of
course not. She pulled the fillet knife out instead. Yes, that one
would do.
She wandered the downstairs a bit before she moved back up.
She tripped over her father's burnt aluminum foil and cigarrette
butts. The stairs were covered with baking soda as she slowly walked
up. Her mother was usually good about cleaning this up, but not
today. Today her mother just cried, imagining why her daughter was
screaming in the other room.
That was not the first time it had happened, nor was it even
the second. Two times before that had her father snook into her room
as she sleep, waking her up in the harshest ways. Dirty old man. If
her mother had the courage he would be in jail. No one should touch
their daughter in such ways. It was unhuman, even evil.
Tears ran down her face as she moved up the stairs. Her eyes
were still black from this afternoon, and would be for weeks. So many
times she had lied about it. It would seem to the foolish that she
was an accident prone child. But everyone knew the truth, only unable
to accept that such a thing could actually happen.
But tonight, it would be differant. No one else would help
her. Her mother was too afraid. Her neighbors were clueless, nor
would they be able to accept it. Her father was respected, as a human
being and an income source! But tomorrow people would know him for
the devil she is. She would tell everyone. Her father was a drug
addict. Her father was a drunk. Her father raped her on many
occasions.
She thought about switching the number to something higher
than three times, but she remembered that once was too much. The
cigarette burns on her chest were enough for any decent man to hate
him. But who would believe her? She couldn't tell anyone. What if
nothing was done about it? He would only hurt her more. What about
her mother? Her mother would never forgive her. For too long her
mother tried to make things better. After hard nights she would take
her out, buy her things. Try to make her happy. And she would play
along. Pretend to be happy. Pandora cried for her mother, who was too
weak and fragile to help.
But Pandora was strong, strong enough to make things better.
Soon, her and her mother would be happy. Everything would be perfect,
the way she always wanted it to me. She could even invite friends
over, because she would no longer have to worry about the rotten
apple cores in the couches, or the broken beer bottles on the floor.
Tomorrow they would live a normal life.
The unknowing conselor at the school told her a normal life
doesn't exist. What was normal? Simply put, it was not her life.
Normal children to not cry theirselves to sleep. Normal children do
not have sheets that smell of blood and urine. Normal children have
fathers who love them more than anything in the world.
She walked into the room with the cross on the door. She felt
like laughing at the irony of one like her father going to church.
Another one who did not even listen to what was said at mass. Of
course, she never listened. Because it was as if God had left her
long ago and been replaced by the devil. God deserted that family,
left her to be tortured. He would not help her. The great power, the
great God would not even help her.
There her father slept on, snoring loudly. She saw an unkempt
man, vomit on his undershirt. He slept in that and his boxers, which
he had worn for the past few days. He did not show this part of him
outside. If only the people knew what this gentleman was really like.
What chaos!
She pulled out the fillet knife and drove it into his chest
and watched her pain turning the carpet red around her. She breathed
in and out, waiting for that sense of satisfaction. It never came,
but neither was there any sense of guilt. It was over, she had ended
her pain. She could be happy now.
She heard her mother screaming from behind her. She turned,
and stabbed her too.
Wait, am I actually going to end it like that? Damn straight. Why?
Are you sick twisted and disturbed? That has nothing to with
anything! You see, I am believer in the value of human life. I am
also a believer of explaining my stories because too often people
don't get the point. You see, this girl was scared. Fear can do alot
of bad stuff. She is actually based on someone I knew once who
finally decided to call the police. Why hadn't she done that before?
She didn't know. The girl in the story, Pandora (Think Pandora's Box)
was too scared. But one night she has had it so she decides "I will
not be hurt any more!" So she kills her father, a man so despicable
any one would wish to see him get whats coming to him. But in that
instant she lost all her sense. A moment of pure rage, so to speak.
In taking a knife to someone, she lost her own humanity and killed
the next thing she saw. Had she told someone she would have been able
to be happy.
I was also thinking of expanding this basic idea because the first thought is: How is she going to live after this? But right now, I got the mood the emotion and the character so I am happy.
extreme, but I have gotten enough complaints for me to warrent saying
this. This is also part of my love of writing "Short Scenes" and is
also basically the type of thing I usually write (I mean with the
morals involved, not content)
The End of the Pain
Matthew Pniewski
She lived her life in suffering. She had never experienced
happiness within her twelve years of life. He would smoke and drink,
and sometimes hit her. Her mother would ignore this, because she did
not want to get hurt as well. It was impossible for her not to see
the cigarette burns on her daughters arms. Pandora did not speak of
this, nor did the mother who ignored this.
About two o'clock in the morning she woke up. But it was not
as if she had been sleeping. She spent most of the time crying,
trying to forget about the pain. She brought the razor to her wrists
on many occasions, but it hurt to much and she would never be able to
finish it. It felt too much like the shards of glass that were always
in her feet. This would never end, she decided, unless she brought an
end to it.
She walked into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of milk.
She immediately dumped it. Nobody controled her. She would now be the
one in charge. If she could be in charge, she wouldn't be hurt
anymore. She filled the glass with ice and poured a beer. She drank
it fast and moved to the drawer where the silverware was kept. She
picked up a butter knife. Was she going to make a sandwich? No. Of
course not. She pulled the fillet knife out instead. Yes, that one
would do.
She wandered the downstairs a bit before she moved back up.
She tripped over her father's burnt aluminum foil and cigarrette
butts. The stairs were covered with baking soda as she slowly walked
up. Her mother was usually good about cleaning this up, but not
today. Today her mother just cried, imagining why her daughter was
screaming in the other room.
That was not the first time it had happened, nor was it even
the second. Two times before that had her father snook into her room
as she sleep, waking her up in the harshest ways. Dirty old man. If
her mother had the courage he would be in jail. No one should touch
their daughter in such ways. It was unhuman, even evil.
Tears ran down her face as she moved up the stairs. Her eyes
were still black from this afternoon, and would be for weeks. So many
times she had lied about it. It would seem to the foolish that she
was an accident prone child. But everyone knew the truth, only unable
to accept that such a thing could actually happen.
But tonight, it would be differant. No one else would help
her. Her mother was too afraid. Her neighbors were clueless, nor
would they be able to accept it. Her father was respected, as a human
being and an income source! But tomorrow people would know him for
the devil she is. She would tell everyone. Her father was a drug
addict. Her father was a drunk. Her father raped her on many
occasions.
She thought about switching the number to something higher
than three times, but she remembered that once was too much. The
cigarette burns on her chest were enough for any decent man to hate
him. But who would believe her? She couldn't tell anyone. What if
nothing was done about it? He would only hurt her more. What about
her mother? Her mother would never forgive her. For too long her
mother tried to make things better. After hard nights she would take
her out, buy her things. Try to make her happy. And she would play
along. Pretend to be happy. Pandora cried for her mother, who was too
weak and fragile to help.
But Pandora was strong, strong enough to make things better.
Soon, her and her mother would be happy. Everything would be perfect,
the way she always wanted it to me. She could even invite friends
over, because she would no longer have to worry about the rotten
apple cores in the couches, or the broken beer bottles on the floor.
Tomorrow they would live a normal life.
The unknowing conselor at the school told her a normal life
doesn't exist. What was normal? Simply put, it was not her life.
Normal children to not cry theirselves to sleep. Normal children do
not have sheets that smell of blood and urine. Normal children have
fathers who love them more than anything in the world.
She walked into the room with the cross on the door. She felt
like laughing at the irony of one like her father going to church.
Another one who did not even listen to what was said at mass. Of
course, she never listened. Because it was as if God had left her
long ago and been replaced by the devil. God deserted that family,
left her to be tortured. He would not help her. The great power, the
great God would not even help her.
There her father slept on, snoring loudly. She saw an unkempt
man, vomit on his undershirt. He slept in that and his boxers, which
he had worn for the past few days. He did not show this part of him
outside. If only the people knew what this gentleman was really like.
What chaos!
She pulled out the fillet knife and drove it into his chest
and watched her pain turning the carpet red around her. She breathed
in and out, waiting for that sense of satisfaction. It never came,
but neither was there any sense of guilt. It was over, she had ended
her pain. She could be happy now.
She heard her mother screaming from behind her. She turned,
and stabbed her too.
Wait, am I actually going to end it like that? Damn straight. Why?
Are you sick twisted and disturbed? That has nothing to with
anything! You see, I am believer in the value of human life. I am
also a believer of explaining my stories because too often people
don't get the point. You see, this girl was scared. Fear can do alot
of bad stuff. She is actually based on someone I knew once who
finally decided to call the police. Why hadn't she done that before?
She didn't know. The girl in the story, Pandora (Think Pandora's Box)
was too scared. But one night she has had it so she decides "I will
not be hurt any more!" So she kills her father, a man so despicable
any one would wish to see him get whats coming to him. But in that
instant she lost all her sense. A moment of pure rage, so to speak.
In taking a knife to someone, she lost her own humanity and killed
the next thing she saw. Had she told someone she would have been able
to be happy.
I was also thinking of expanding this basic idea because the first thought is: How is she going to live after this? But right now, I got the mood the emotion and the character so I am happy.