I've been writing now for the better part of 15 years. Currently I'm working on 3 novels. Two I've actually started, and the third is just an idea I've been playing around with for a couple years. I also have a small collection of short stories that I've been working on; most of which have magically disappeared from my computer >_>
I'd like to share my works with you and hear what you have to say Critique is more than welcome, I'm constantly working on building on my skills - be forewarned - my work is LARGELY unedited even by myself; editing is best saved until the project is complete, then go back and fine tune. Why do I do this? If I edit before it's finished, I get stuck in a constant edit and fix up cycle which will effectively kill it.
So, this is a short story that is complete, I have gone through and edited it somewhat, but I do feel that it could still be fine tuned in a few places. Hope you enjoy!
Written by Jade Dye 07/16/09]
Another gorgeous summer day; the sun is bright with not a cloud in the sky. Two weeks left before it's back to school, back to the books. This summer has shattered every record for high temperatures. The kind of summer you spend on your backporch barbequeing, grilling steaks or burgers, knocking back a few cold ones. The kind of summer you remember for years and years, the kind of summer you reflect on when you're gathered with your friends in a nursing home. Laughing and remembering the 'good ol' days', while trying to forget that you're wearing an adult diaper because your bladder has grown a mind of it's own. Yeah. It's the kind of summer I should be out there enjoying. Instead I'm inside. Aunt May left me a list of chores a mile long. Sometimes it takes one week to finish one list! And just when I think I'm done, that there's no more filth under the kitchen sink, the grass doesn't need to be clipped, the gutters are clear and the windows clean, the bathroom smells of Pinesol and glitters like a fresh diamond, no more mountain of dishes left from last nights' party, or laundry she's been stockpiling for a month; she digs into her pocket and brandishes another pink slip. Another small book of a cleaning list, perfectly printed on her pink notepad paper scented with musk. Half the list I'm currently working on is dedicated to her spoiled, pudgy half-breed cat; Tiger. Who names a brown and white spotted cat, Tiger? Aunt May, apparently. So here I am, on my knees and up to my elbows in cat shit. A quick glance over my shoulder and I can see Tiger sitting in the doorway looking as smug as usual. Fucken cat even has an entire storageroom dedicated to her. Washing my hands after disposing of another bag of nastiness (thank you Tiger for the fresh turd) I decided that the rest of princess purrfects chores can wait for tomorrow. I've already scrubbed all the damn linoleum in this house by hand. By, fucking, HAND! Because the mop always seems to magically grow legs and take a vacation whenever mopping the floors appears on my list. Stomping upstairs I slammed my bedroom door shut on princess's pudgy's nose. I already have a shadow, don't need another one. The only refuge, my safe haven in this house of Hell; my room. At least my posters of Cradle of Filth and Korn won't force me to clean up the sculpture I've been working on. Smirking I pulled the damp cloth carefully from the mound of wet clay that sat on my desk. My little triumph. It was ugly, in every facet of the word. But I loved it. A cross between a Gremlin and a Gargoyle, perched atop a pedestal. Heaven forbid! There's a clump of wet mud in the house, in my room! If Aunt May realized I had this I would have a list of chores that would take me thirty years to complete. Picking up the nail file I'd been using as a detailing tool I set about fixing Mr. Ugly's upper lip. I'd stuffed him into my closet a little too hastily last night. Now his face looked awkwardly flattened. She's going to take it away from you. She'll find him. She always finds the things you try to hide. "Uhh..." Glancing quickly around my room I knew I was alone. But the voice. I'd heard it so clearly, like the person was standing right next to me. Yes, I know you heard me. Come find me. "Who's there?!" I felt absurd, talking to myself. I checked my closet. Clothes, shoes, boxes of paint and the cubby I hide my clay in. No one there. Looking out my window all I could see was the neighbors dog, Ralph, an ancient Beagle. Where the Hell did that voice come from? Hehehe. Oh, I'm nearby. Very close in fact. The latch on my closet door unlocked itself, the door creaking as it opened. Something moved inside. Not more of a shadow. I thought I saw something green, but I couldn't be sure. I just checked my closet! There was nothing there! "This is crazy!" I told myself. I think I've just been inside too long. Too long on hot days. Throwing the cloth over Mr. Ugly I ran from my room and downstairs. I didn't see Tiger at the bottom until I'd stepped on her tail. Yowling she skittered across the floor. Startled, I rolled my ankle painfully and landed on my back on the hardwood below. That cat is out to get you. "Don't be stupid, it's just a cat." Yes, but it was because of that cat that Aunt May found your last clay sculpture, wasn't it? "Y-yes." I'd almost forgotten. About a month ago I had almost finished the gargoyle that I'd been working on for three months. At a foot and a half tall it was a bitch to hide. I still don't know how, but Tiger got into my room; I'm sure I'd closed the door. Tiger had managed to get stuck in my closet and was howling. Before I could get up there, Aunt May had gone to look for her and found my gargoyle in the process. I got there in time to watch her smash it and then toss it in the trash. Tiger was sitting on the floor; I swear if cats could smirk, she was. See what I mean? You'll never be able to keep any of your creations secret with that cat following you around! I was still laying on the ground, at the foot of the stairs where I'd tripped. Sitting up I noticed a shadow behind the couch. Again I saw a flicker of something green. Get rid of the cat, and you're free to sculpt without worrying about Aunt May. "What are you talking about, get rid of the cat?! How?" I demanded. Do something...like...this! The shadow moved so fast I barely saw where it went. Tiger came prancing down the hallway just then. Next thing I saw was Tiger spinning through the air bouncing off the wall. Then the next. The noise she made was indescribeable. Smacking the roof with a loud thunk, the feline hit the floor and didn't move. I was standing over her, though I don't recall getting up. See. Problem solved! "What the fuck do you mean, problem solved?! She's dead! Oh, Tiger..." Kneeling I cradled the pudgy nuisance in my arms; her neck was broken. Hide the body. "Like where? Aunt May will know she's gone." Put her in the garbage bins out back. It's only three o'clock, garbage pick up is at four and Aunt May won't be home until five thirty, right? "That's right!" Running into the kitchen I grabbed a garbage bag and stuffed Tiger's body inside. With a quick glance out the kitchen windows to be sure that neither of our nosy neighbors was home, I dashed out the back door, jumped off the patio and raced for the gate; the black bag in my hand billowing like a sail on a stiff breeze. Running back to the house I slammed the door and slumped to the floor. Burying my face in my knees I fought to slow my heart which hammered in my chest. You forgot something. Hehehe. Its laughter was like that of an evil clown from a cheap horror movie. The kind that only terrifies children. "What did I forget?" Just take a look in the hall. Aunt May surely won't miss that stain on her perfect hardwood floor! In the hallway it didn't take long to see what the voice meant. There was a small pool of blood. Tiger's blood. Better get that cleaned up before she gets home! "You bastard! If I could find you I would make you clean it! You did it." I could just make out a shadow on the wall, only a few feet from where I stood. Again that damn flash of green! Hehehe. You'll have to find me first. The shadow vanished and upstairs I could swear I heard my bedroom door open and close. It didn't take long to clean up the mess. Tossing the rag and bucket I'd used back under the sink, I slunk into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. I'm not sure how long I sat there. Maybe I zoned out like I sometimes do. A very loud thump from upstairs roused me from my stupor. I sat there, listening carefully. Several minutes passed. Again, there came a massive thump, much louder than the first. The vibration shook the ceiling, white dust floated through the air. Three more thumps followed rapidly. It sounded as though someone were dropping a very heavy object over and over. From what I could tell the noise was coming from the attic. I was too scared to move, to run from the house. I felt paralyzed. My mind willed my legs to move, but I just sat there as the thumping continued. It hit me then. The thumping was footsteps. Running back and forth in the attic. The walls were shaking, several pictures vibrated from their nails and hit the floor. Oh, Christ. I heard the attic door tear off its hinges and the pounding footsteps storming down the stairs. The ceiling immediately above my head tremored violently as the footsteps ran down the hall to the stairs on the second floor. "Oh, God, please let my legs move!" Yet still they wouldn't budge. My brain screamed at my deadened muscles, but nothing resulted. Smashing down the stairs the whole house rumbled as the thing reached the first floor and thudded into the doorway of the kitchen. Nothing was there. I searched the empty space and nothing! A sudden blast of wind hit my face, nearly knocking my chair backwards. I couldn't really call it wind or air. It smelled of rotting flesh and garbage. Stale cheese and the stench of a dirty public washroom. Why didn't you come find me?! I gasped as a shadow materialized right beside me, accompanied yet again with a flash of green. Why didn't you come find me?! I could hear the voice inside my head now and nothing else. Everything had been muted. Why didn't you come find me?! "Please go away!" Why didn't you come find me?! I felt a hand on my chest. A strong force knocked me backwards. Flying from the chair I slid across the floor, slamming into the counter I hit my head.
I must have been knocked unconsious. When I woke up I was on my bed, my window wide open. A cool breeze lifted the curtains and breathed a sweet scent of summer air into my bedroom. It was dark. "Fuck! How long have I been sleeping? Aunt May is gonna be pissed!" Running to my door I stepped into the hallway. Immediately I knew something was wrong. It could have been that Aunt May's bedroom door was open, revealing that the room had been ransacked. Or it could have been that the attic door was laying at the foot of the stairs, its hinges bent. But most likely it was the trail of drying blood on the floor. I slapped at the switch on the wall and the hallway light flickered to life. The blood led downstairs. I hesitated a moment before descending to the first landing of the staircase. "Aunt May?" This sure as Hell wasn't cats' blood. Rounding the corner of the landing I froze, my heart skipping. Aunt May's severed head had been jammed onto the banister post at the bottom of the stairs. Her face was twisted into a revolting open-mouthed silent scream. Something behind me gave me a rough shove and I tumbled down the last few steps and into the darkened living room. Climbing to my feet I searched for my attacker. Hello! The voice cackled in my ear. Spinning around I could see the shadow against the wall. "You bastard! What the fuck did you do?!" I ran at the shadow, my fist raised and ready to pummel its fucken head in. When my hand slammed into a glassy surface I stopped. Staring hard at the shadow I caught a glimpse of the green flicker. It was only inches away, why can't I punch it? Hehehe. The lights snapped on and I gasped. I was staring into the full length mirror by the front door. The flash of green...was my own green eyes. Found me!
Slumping down onto the cold concrete sidewalk, she leaned her head against the red brick wall behind her. Thick rings of black eyeliner circled her bright green eyes. Her once blond hair dyed jet black, and her fair skin coated in a thin layer of ivory cover-up. My porcelain doll. My Mina. A single tear slipped from her eye, staining her supple cheek black from the heavy mascara she wore. The freshly painted nails of her right hand absently played with the pendant strung around her neck. "What are we going to do?" She whispered breathlessly in my direction. I'd been kneeling with my elbows on my knees a few feet away. Wanting to hold her, yet afraid to touch her. Staring at the ground, I watched an ant carrying a particularily large piece of hardened bread crust. Brushing at my forehead I tucked my shoulder length hair behind my left ear. "I have no fucken clue." I spoke with a much harsher tone than I meant. Mina flinched ever so slightly and buried her face in her hands. She tried to stifle the sobs that rose in her chest. Fuck me. I really am an asshole somedays. Crawling beside her I wrapped Mina in my arms tightly. I felt her arm slip around my waist. Biting down on the ring through my lip I fought the tears that blurred my vision. I ran my fingers through her hair and kissed her head. "I'm sorry. I'll talk to my parents." "Your parents I'm not worried about, Jake!" She clung to me like a desperate child, "It's my parents that are gonna fucken freak!" I wanted to make her pain vanish; never in a million years did I ever want to see the terror on her face as I saw now. She was nearing an hysterical state. I knew if she didn't calm down that she would have another panic attack. "Look. Mina - Mina!" I grabbed her face with both hands, "We'll go to my house afterschool, you spend the night and we'll tell my parents. They can help us from there. Okay babe?" She ran her fingers up my fishnet covered arms. I could feel her trembling. "Okay." Taking her by the hand I stood up, the multiple chains strung from my hips jingling. Wrapping my right arm around her shoulders, Mina slipped her left arm around my waist. Leaning on each other for support we left the Family Planning Clinic behind. Catching the number fifteen bus, we sat in a morose silence the entire bumpy ride. Our fingers interlocked. I glanced at my watch, it was only quarter to two. Much too early to head home. We'd cut our first afternoon classes to go to the clinic. Luck would have it that it was only open during school hours, which added to the difficulty in getting there. Mina had missed her period last month. And our fears had just been confirmed. I don't know how the Hell I would be able to concentrate in my Art class now. Our school resembled a sanitarium from the outside. With a puff of exhaust the bus chugged up the road, leaving us in its dust. I gripped her hand tightly as we made for the side doors. Just as we entered, the bell rang. "Meet me after class in the front foyer." I gave her a quick kiss as the crowds pushed by us. With a longing glance over her shoulder, Mina was swallowed by the shuffling mass of students; each of them undoubtedly glaring at us. The outsiders. The freaks. "Mister Larson! Skipping again?" A sharp tap on my shoulder made my blood run cold. Vice Principle Diloyne. Busted.
I sat in the faux leather chair, staring at the buckles of my boots, attempting to avoid eye contact. The principle's office was boiling hot, but that likely could have been due to my dad's rising temperature. He was pissed. But not at me. He was in the process of giving a lengthy and brutal ass chewing to Mr. Diloyne. You see, after he busted me for skipping, Mr. Diloyne and my math teacher (who's class I had skipped again) hauled me into his office where he proceeded to expel me. However, he made a grave mistake in demanding why I went to the Family Planning Clinic, and who had gone with me, so he could expel them too. There was no way I was giving out Mina's personal, and private, reason for going there. So, here I sit, pretending to be completely engrossed in the sole of my shoes, fighting the giggle fit that threatened to overtake me at any minute. Stealing a quick glance up, I watched Mr. Diloyne's face change colour from a sickly pale to bright red, and then purple. It looked like his face would explode. Another surge of giggles forced me to resume my careful inspection of my foot. Who the Hell do you think you are?!" My father never needed to yell, his voice came across very forceful without much apparent effort; most likely from his years of experience as an attorney, "You have no right to that kind of personal information! What gives you the right to interrogate a minor for information that legally you require a Court Order for?" "My intention was merely to - uh. Well you see, I um..." Shooting a nasty glare in my direction Mr. Diloyne fidgetted uncomfortably in his chair, "He was skipping! This is the seventh time this month alone!" "Perhaps if the content of his classwork challenged his intellect, my son would attend class more often! Myself and my wife have had this discussion multiple times with his math teacher." I could feel my shoulders tremoring violently. Quickly I covered my mouth with my hand. Biting my tongue I knew it was too late. I snorted. I'd tried to stifle my laughter for too long. "Mister Diloyne," Mrs. Davidson, the principal, finally spoke up; her voice wavered, "Would you please excuse us? You've spoken your point. I shall deal with Mr. Larson and his son." Even my dad was fighting to keep a straight face. As Mr. Diloyne rushed from the office I leaned down to tighten a buckle on my boot; I could feel his eyes boring into the back of my skull. As soon as he left the three of us burst out laughing. Regaining his composure my dad smacked me upside the head playfully. "You made that much more difficult than was necessary!" "I'm sorry dad, I couldn't control myself." Leaning forward on her desk Mrs. Davidson tapped her silver pen repeatedly. "Despite Mr. Diloyne's transgression, I have no choice but to suspend you for repeatedly skipping your math class." She was quite attractive for a middle aged woman. "You'll be suspended for two days,"Reaching into her desk she pulled out a file folder, "And we'll be placing you into the advanced mathematics class." I could hardly believe my ears, "What? Really?" Her eyes were the colour of fresh honey, the same as her hair, "Yes. I've spoken to your math teacher, and we've tracked your test scores over the last month. Even though you've been skipping class, only attending for exams, your test scores are averaging 90%. You have potential to succeed. Please don't waste this opportunity I'm giving you." Clearing his throat and standing my father extended his hand to Mrs. Davidson, "Believe me he won't. Thank you for your time and understanding, ma'am." I was relieved to be leaving that stale office. The receptionist looked at us curiously as we left. I was about the same height as my father. Somewhere around the 6"2', 6"3' mark. He was a well dressed lawyer, and I, well. Gothic, I think is what the style of dress would be called. "Where's Mina?" He asked when we reached the hallway. "I told her to meet me in the foyer." "Her parents know?" "Not yet." He gave me a worried glance, "Go get her. I'll be in the car." I found Mina huddled on the bench in the far corner of the foyer. Tucked in beside the broken pop machine. She looked like a lost puppy. When she saw me she grabbed her backpack and practically flew off the bench. "Jake! I heard Diloyne busted you! What happened?" "In a nutshell: Lawyer dad chewed stupid man a new asshole. I'm suspended for two days but I'm being bounced into an advanced math class." "About fucken time, too! Wait," She stopped suddenly tugging on my arm, "Does your dad...did you tell him?" "He put two and two together. He's likely where I get my math mind from. Come on, he's waiting for us."
Tossing our backpacks onto the freshly vacuumed floors of my dad's Escalade, we piled into the backseat. His eyes stared back at us from the rearview mirror. "That was a Hell of a way for me to find out Mina's pregnant, Jake." I could hear the dissapointment in his voice. "I'm sorry." The ride home was one of tense silence. We wanted to talk, but none could find the proper words. So we rode quietly. Dad's eyes fixed on the road, Mina staring absently out the window, and me staring at the floor.
This post has been edited by literarygoth: May 1 2011, 09:08 PM
Please follow the links below to view my project and creative works: Lit's Art Closet
Indeed it is dark, Sparrow which is why I've only posted a small excerpt of the story here; the rest of the story isn't appropriate for the forums. This story was partially inspired by a friends' dream, and a dream that I had. I sort of, mashed the two together and strung a story through it. It's almost finished, just have a bit more to write and then I'll be going back, editing and polishing the story completely.
Please follow the links below to view my project and creative works: Lit's Art Closet