Short story thing

George had just gotten up for breakfast. He glanced at his alarm clock. It was 7:30, and if he wasn’t quick enough he’d miss the bus. He had already missed it several times before, and it was beginning to wear on his own nerves.

            “Man!” he moaned, “Why can’t I do anything right!”

Because you’re a screw-up. His thoughts told him, half-jokingly. George sighed and got up. After getting dressed, he stumbled over to the nearby mirror to look at his own reflection.

“Cmon! Another pimple!” he cried. George had been using the Acne medication for weeks, but it hadn’t been helping.

I’m meant to look ugly. I just know it! he thought.

George sighed again. His string of bad luck had been lasting for quite some time now, and frankly he was sick of it. His guitar strings broke, he burned his cereal while cooking it, and he couldn’t even find his favorite Plasma Disco album.

I wish something would just go right for once. he thought. I’m such a screw up!

After getting dressed and stumbling out the door, George headed downstairs to get some breakfast. If he wasn’t fast enough, he would miss the bus and be late for school. On the way down the stairs, he hummed some lines. Rock was one of his favorite types of music. He had so many memories of going to concerts and really enjoying himself. Normally, he was kind of quiet. But for some reason, at concerts, he really let himself loose.

Music is great. He thought. It’s one of my favorite ways to express myself.

After walking into the kitchen, he grabbed Capt N Crunch”, his favorite cereal.

Crunch Berries…Mmmm….

He devoured the whole box of tasty treats, steadily enjoying each bite. After this took place, George grabbed some quick paper from a nearby desk. Using a pen, he quickly drew some flowers and some ice cream cones. After doing a quick 2 minute edit, he was finished.

This is perfect! He thought. Sasha will love it!

Sasha was his friend from school, and honestly, one of the only things that helped him get through the drudgery that is high school. At least if he was a screw up elsewhere, at least Sasha would accept him for who he is.

“George!” his mother’s voice boomed from down the hallway. “Hurry up, or you will miss the bus! This is the third time I’ve had to remind you, and I’m tired of it. Can’t you take care of yourself, but no, I have to do everything for you….”

George sighed again. He wished his mother was more accepting of him as a person. He really did.

Not content to get to school on a low-note, George forced himself to smile and stumbled out the door. It was going to be a long day.

Addiction

It had been days since my last.

When you crave something, the hours until you get your next bit seem like eternal eons, stretching into a fabric of time that is so subjectively described, that one can not begin to comprehend it.

Every nook and cranny of the mind starts to twist and obsess over something so simple, that it would look insane to an outside viewer.

But persist the obsession does.

Every bit of my body was screaming for the next bit in order to fufill urges that I had only come to known for a short while.

When this happens, one begins to lose themself, becoming a fragment of who they once were.

As the eyes roll back into the user's eyes, a blood-curdling scream can be heard for miles as the need becomes so compulsive it starts to affect one's soul.

The days would begin where I would beg my friends and buy off their product, just to oblige in my twisted obsession, a obsession that lingered between the depths of eternal darkness and the brink of sanity. My friends would sell their own product to me just to help keep me somewhat sane.

My addiction to Girl Scout cookies hadn't just ended in my dabbling. No.

It was just beginning.

Short Story I wrote

Silence. That's all there was as Flan stared up at his ceiling. The lack of noise seemed to penetrate deeply into his soul, filling all the nooks and crannies of his mind. He was bored. Something seemed amiss among all the daily ponderings that were going through his head.

Why am I so worked up over nothing? he thought. It wasn't really that big a deal.

 Up until yesterday, everything had been going so well. He had finished catching up with some friends whom he hadn't seen in weeks, he had tuned out some amazing art pieces, and he was drinking enough coffee to satisfy his inner craving. The day seemed to be going by so smoothly, that is until.....

He shook his head firmly. No, he thought, best not to think about it. It was the last thing he wanted to consciously devote his attention to. Remembering painful moments wasn't really helpful. It just seemed to make situations worse.

And yet, sometimes it felt as though he couldn't control how he felt. It seemed to be too big of a task to handle. He had enough trouble dealing with the drama in his life as it was.

Whatever, he concluded. He had things to do. And worrying over things he couldn't control was just a waste of time. He slowly rolled over, then got out of bed. It was a normal day today, nothing special. However, Flan decided that he would attempt to enjoy the day the best he knew how. He was already dressed, so all he had to do was grab his keys and off he would go. Like a hopping toad, he leaped down the stairs, imagining himself as a giant leapfrog, ready to spring at the next step. He stumbled clumsily into the den.

The den was his place of excitement. Every time he hosted a party there, he felt like a king, who owned his own castle. Everything fit together so perfectly, like a puzzle that one had just finished.

He grabbed the keys off the pool table and exploded out the door, securely locking it first. After making it over and into the car, he started the engine, and off he went. Now..where to go first? he thought to himself. The local coffee shop looked tempting, but then again, he wanted to eat some food too. And not just coffee shop food. He pondered it over for a minute, then decided he would just eat at the coffee place. Their food is passable, he thought, barely.Worse case scenario..he would only gag a little bit. In a split second, Flan rammed his foot on the pedal and the car came to a screeching halt. He was at a stoplight, and had stopped his car just in time. A few seconds later, and he would of rear ended the car in front of him. Apparently, someone had just stopped their car in the middle of the intersection. Flan stuck his head out the window. The outside traffic had stopped.

"It's okay!" the guy yelled,"I got it!"

Flan let his head slam against the steering wheel. He sighed. Some crazed lunatic had stopped his car just to pick up a stupid penny! In the middle of a intersection, too! How did that guy even see the penny, with everything going on around him?

 Flan lifted his head back up. Admist the honking horns and drivers yelling expletives, the guy had gotten back into his car, and taken off. Shortly after, traffic resumed like normal.

As he pulled into the drive-thru at the coffee place, two men in black ski masks came over to his car. As Flan sat, paralyzed with fear, they broke open his car window, cobbled him in the face, and pulled him out of the car.

They dragged him into a nearby van and took off.

Flan trembled as the two men tied him up and slapped him several times.

"Wh-what do you want from me?" Flan stammered.

As the van continued along, one of the fellows next to Flan pulled off his ski mask and spoke in a stern voice.

"The world is going to end. We are part of the grand high council and we won't let that happen".

"What?" stumbled Flan.

"We need funds to make sure this never comes to pass", said the man.

The man pulled a magnum out of his pocket and shoved it into Flan's face.

Flan was breathing heavily now. "What do you want from ME?" he cried, his face wet with fear.

"How much money do you have?"

"Uh...I don't know. Forty dollars?" he stammered again.

"Good enough".

The van pulled over to the side of the road. The backdrop was a country setting, with no one around for miles.

One man shoved Flan out and next to the protruding lake.

"Wait! There must be some mistake!" he cried.

In the next five seconds, one man held him down while the other pointed the magnum and fired.

With the sun still in the middle of the sky, the two men loaded the body into the lake. Then they got in the back of the van and took off.

Flan's last wish was to tell his family how much he loved them.

And loved them he did.