#1  
Old 11-22-2008, 03:10 PM
A Short Story

I'm not sure if we're allowed to post short fictional stories in this forum or not. But I wanted to post a short story that an old friend of mine had written. I thought they were very well done. Mod's, if I'm not supposed to do this, just delete this post/thread.

Otherwise, if ya'll have some time - Check it out and let me know what you think.


Trapped Insanity (Memories)


[[ Everything is dark. No sound, no light just an overwhelming nothingness. Out of the nothingness comes a noise. The sound of a door opening is heard and then several footsteps then the door slamming shut ]]

Tom: DAMMIT DON'T SLAM THE GODDAMN DOOR!
Chris: I'm sorry I didn't mean to, it was an accident.
Tom: BULLSHIT! THAT'S BULLSHIT! YOURE A FUCKING LIAR!
Chris: I'm not lying, honest.
Tom: DO YOU THINK IM SOME SORT OF FUCKING MORON, YOU GODDAMN FILTY LIAR! GET UP TO YOUR ROOM 'FORE I SMACK THE PISS OUT OF YOU BOY!
Chris: But...
Tom: SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET UP TO YOUR GODDAMN ROOM!

[[ Chris enters the room and very carefully shuts the door so as not to make a sound. He places his backpack on the floor and sits down on a chair over by the desk with scattered papers. ]]

Chris: sigh...I hope your day was better than mine.

[[ Then Chris turns to another kid sitting on the bed reading a comic book. The other kid appears to be a few years older. Taller, with a bigger build and a Pittsburgh Pirates hat on ]]

Exile: Enh just another day.

[[ Suddenly the door is flung open and the outline of a large man is seen in the doorway ]]

Tom: WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?
Chris: N...noone sir
Tom: I HEARD YOU TALKING TO SOMEONE! WHO'S HERE!
Chris: Honest sir, there is no one here. I swear.

[[ Tom steps into the room and the light hits him showing a larger man with a
clean shaven face with a tan face and black hair. He's got a white button up
shirt with the top 5 buttons undone and a pair of tan slacks. In his left he has
an open bottle of bourbon, which is half empty. ]]

Chris: THERES NO ONE HERE, HONEST!
Tom: BULLSHIT! I HEARD YOU TALKING! TELL ME WHERE THIS PERSON IS OR IM GOING TO FIND HIM AND WRECK YOUR WHOLE ROOM DOING IT!!

[[ Tom opens the closet door and starts throwing around clothes and other
objects looking for this mysterious stranger. Tom comes out of the closet after finding nothing and stares at Chris. He walks several steps towards the child and stares at him as Chris quivers in his chair ]]

Tom: Look I'm just worried about you. Tell me where this person is, Chris.
Chris: I told you, there is no one here...

[[Tom brings his free hand across Chris' face, knocking him out of the chair and under the desk. ]]

Chris: I'm sorry! I'm sorry! There's nobody here sir! I was just talking to
myself!
Tom: DON'T YOU LIE TO ME!!!

[[ Tom reaches under the desk and pulls out Chris who has a large welt on his
face from being struck and tears are streaming down his face as he continues to claim his innocence. ]]

Tom: One...last...time. Where is he?
Chris: (between sobs) there's....no one...here

[[ Tom lowers his head for a second then raises it to meet Chris'. Then Tom
grips Chris' arm tighter and flings him into a already knocked over nightstand
causing a sickening thud. Before Chris can regain any composure, Tom comes back of and slaps Chris again ]]

Chris: Please...stop! STOP!
Tom: DON'T YOU TELL ME WHAT TO DO!

[[ Chris looks to his left and there stands the older boy that was on the bed
earlier. He's watching with a look of disgust on his face ]]

Chris: help....me
Tom: WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO!
Exile: Quit crying
Chris: I CAN'T
Tom: SHUT UP YOU STUPID FUCK!

[[ Tom strikes Chris again eliciting more sobs from the child ]]

Exile: I SAID STOP CRYING!
Chris: IT HURTS!
Tom: YOUR GODDAMN RIGHT THIS HURTS! YOU LITTLE FUCKING LIAR!
Exile: GET UP! GET TO YOUR FEET! DON'T LET HIM DO THIS!
Chris: I...can't

[[ Chris attempts to get to his feet as Tom looks on with a look of surprise on
his face, which quickly turns to anger. Tom picks Chris to his feet and gets
into his face.]]

Tom: YOU THINK THAT YOU ARE TOUGH BOY? DO YOU?
Exile: DON'T BE WEAK!
Chris: I'm...not...weak.
Tom: BULLSHIT!

[[ Tom brings his fist into Chris' stomach causing Chris to crash to his knees
unable to breathe. ]]

Tom: YOU THINK YOUR TOUGH?

[[ Tom rears back his right leg and kicks Chris harshly in the gut. Chris
collapses to the ground unable to breathe ]]

Tom: You will always be pathetic boy.

[[ Tom turns and walks away from the child and leaves the room slamming the door behind him. Chris' struggled and labored breathing is the only audible noise. The room is in total disarray and reeks of the spilled bourbon. Finally Chris is able to regain some composure only to lose it by crying hysterically. ]]

Exile: Weak. Crying like a little baby. You're weak. You'll always be weak. That
will be your downfall Chris Lemke.

[[ Suddenly the light become very bright and everything in the room is drowned in a bright white.]]

[[ EXT: Shot of a small church on Forbes Ave, Christ United Methodist it says
engraved on the cross to the left of the door. A funeral is taking place. The funeral is for a man who died before his time, heart giving out on him due to the extreme stress placed on his body by his stepson.

One night at a family get-together, a drunken Tom was taunting his step-son. This invoked anger and rage from Chris, as he began to brutally attack Tom. Tom had the life choked out of him but before his stepson could finish the job himself his heart gave out leaving him to die in the middle of the ring. Today we honor that man at his funeral. ]]

Priest: We are gathered here today to pay respects to a good man, a kind man who loved his family and who taken from us before his time, but this is not a time for mourning. This a time to celebrate his life.

[[ Several people in the room break out into sobs ]]

Priest: At this time if anyone has something to say about Tom, please feel free to step up to the microphone here and say your peace.

[[ The priest overlooks the congregation in silence before a woman in the front row walks up to the priest. She has a petite figure and is wearing a long black dress. Her makeup is running from the tears that have been shed on this day. The priest gives the woman a hug as she walks over the microphone]]

Kristi: Hi, my name is Kristi Sparta, I'm sure all of you know me, I am...was
Tom's wife...

[[ Kristi breaks down into sobs. The Priest starts to get up and walks towards
her but she composes herself and motions for him to stop]]

Kristi: I'm sorry, its just hard to deal with. I guess I should tell you
something about Tom...Tom was always such a loving person, its hard to even think of a time when he wasn't smiling...he loved to laugh, even at something so stupid...I remember once when we all took a trip to Myrtle Beach and we were watching the sunset and Tom's chair broke...

[[ A young family is sitting on the beach all in chairs watching the sun set on the water. The family is a younger Kristi Sparta wearing a blue two piece bathing suit and a trim and younger Tom Sparta sitting beside her. The two young boys, Chris and Michael Lemke in bathing suits sitting besides their parents playing in the sand]]

Kristi: Moments like this don't come very often, its so serene...so
tranquil...it really is lovely. Boys, did you thank Tom for taking us?
Chris: Geez Mom, only like a thousand times!

[[ Kristi laughs but Tom just stares at the boy, glaring into his eyes]]

Kristi: Okay okay Mister Smartypants!

[[ Kristi jumps up out of the chair and starts to tickle Chris and Michael who
are howling with laughter. Tom breaks his gaze and leans back in his chair but
the chair gives away and Tom spills out onto the sand, his face buried in it.
Kristi and the boys turn to see this sight and in unison break out into a
roaring laughter. Tom turns his head towards his family but the look on his face is of pure anger. Tom gets to his feet and Kristi walks over to his side. Chris is still laughing on the sand, replaying the incident over again in his head
when Tom walks over to his chair and picks it up and slams it down on the sand several times causing Chris to laugh even harder. Tom glares at him again then picks up a chair a final time and hurls it at Chris]]

Kristi: And we couldn't stop laughing, we spent I think like 30 minutes buried
in the sand laughing hysterically as Tom's face was covered with sand...

[[ The beach fades out and back into the church with the older Kristi standing
at the podium]]

Kristi: It seems like a lifetime ago now...and I...I...

[[ Kristi breaks down into tears and this time her son, Michael Lemke comes up to his mother and she hugs him sobbing loudly against his chest. The priest
comes up and helps Kristi back to her seat. Michael walks up to the podium]]

Michael: I'm sure what my mom wanted to say was that she's very touched that all of you came out today to help remember Tom, and the man that he was and to say...
Chris: ...That you're all full of shit.

[[ Chris stands by the back doors of the church. He walks down the aisle staring at his brother]]

Michael: Chris...
Chris: Shut up Mikey, its bad enough that Mother is up there spreading lies to
everyone, telling them what a great guy that asshole was, but to see you, you who wasn't a fucking blind moron saying the same things, that just makes me sick.
Michael: Chris, you cant be here...
Chris: FUCK YOU MICHAEL! I CAN BE HERE IF I WANT TO!! HE WAS MY STEPFATHER TO! IF HE COULD TREAT ME LIKE SHIT THEN I AT LEAST GET TO SEE HIM DEAD!! IM OWED THAT!

[[ Chris walks over to the back of the church as everyone turns to see what he doing, all eyes on him. Chris walks and picks up a duffel bag and brings it backup the casket. The priest gets up out of his seat and tries to walk over to Chris]]

Priest: Christopher, you have to...

[[ Chris backhands the priest causing him to fall backwards, Michael jumps up
and catches the priest from hitting the ground. Chris turns to face his brother]]

Chris: Always the hero...well hero you better get everyone out of here.
Michael: Why? Why can't you just let us bury him?
Chris: Because he doesn't deserve it. Now get everyone out of here, hero or they can ride to hell with Tom himself!

[[ Chris reaches into his bag and pulls out a can of gasoline]]

Michael: What are you...oh Jesus...
Chris: I gave you a warning Michael.

[[ Michael stares at his brother before finally turning to rest of the people
all who have worried looks on their faces]]

Michael: I want to thank everyone for coming, there is going to be a reception at the house, if wed all like to reconvene there...
Chris: God, Mikey, you're so boring. Where's the fun in that?

[[ Chris reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a gun. He raises it to the
sky and fires two shots into the ceiling]]

Chris: EVERYONE WHO ISNT OUT OF HERE IN TWO SECONDS WILL NEVER WALK AGAIN!

[[ Everyone springs out their seats into a mad rush out the door. Michael looks back at Chris and just shakes his head, he helps his mother up and they walk out the door with everyone else. There is one lone figure still in the room sittingin the very back room in the far left seat]]

Exile: And just what is this proving?

[[ Chris turns and sees Exile wearing a suit sitting in back row]]

Chris: Who says this is supposed to accomplish anything?
Exile: So this is just another act of a pathetic child acting out?
Chris: Leave me alone, he doesn't deserve all of this...a funeral, people
mourning over him. Did you see my mother? I can't even believe she said all that bullshit to these people! Is she fucking insane?
Chris: Tom is dead, he's dead! I don't need you anymore! I can do this on my own now!
Exile: Do you really believe that?
Chris: I DON'T NEED YOU ANYMORE!!! DON'T YOU GET IT! YOU CANT PROTECT ME FROM HIM!!! HE CANT HURT ME ANYMORE!!!
Exile: It was never about him, Chris. It never was.
Chris: ...what are you talking about?
Exile: Without me, you would have completely lost control of the real world. Do you realize that?
Chris: What REAL world? This IS the real world! The world of cold stares, of
apathy, of hate, of pain and fear....this is MY world.
Exile: You're right, that's your world. But what about the other world? The one you refuse to see?
Chris: Don't give me this psychobabble bullshit. I don't need MYSELF to analyze me.
Exile: You could never deal with the reality that you were born into. It was
always just to hard for you to accept. That's why you created this world you
live in now.
Chris: WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?
Exile: When I first met you, you were 10 years old. They were scared that you were going to hurt yourself or someone else...
Chris: The only one hurting me was that motherfucker! Every goddamn
night...every night he would torture me...just because he could.
Exile: ...that's why they had to commit you in the first place. Then you started to see me. I was able to help a bit, but you were always so lost in your own world...
Chris: That's when the first blow would come down, it was always the worst one because of the anticipation...after that you just had to numb yourself as much as you can and let them come, the more you struggled, the worse it would get...
Exile: Tom visited you everyday in that place but you were so scared of him,
scared that he was going to hurt you, it crushed him. He made sure that you
always had the best doctors working for you...he loved you so much Chris. You were just never able to realize it...

[[ Exile turns to face Chris]]

Exile: That's because it was never there Chris, when are you finally going
to see that?
Chris: When am I going to see what?

[[ Exile slaps Chris and he falls to the ground.
The scene fades out and reopens in Chris' childhood bedroom. Chris is 9 years
old and is sitting on his bed reading an issue of Amazing Spiderman when there is a knock at the door]]

Chris: Come in!

[[ Chris' mom, Kristi, walks in the door and over to Chris]]

Kristi: Brush your teeth?
Chris: Yes m'am!
Kristi: Did you?
Chris: Yes
Kristi: BREATH CHECK!!!
Chris: Okay okay! Ill go brush my teeth! Jeez Mom, I can brush them in the
morning you know
Kristi: Yes, but then I wouldn't be able to give you a good night kiss
Chris: You make that sound like a bad thing, mom
Kristi: Don't make me embarrass you Christopher Lemke! Ill give you a big wet
one when I drop you off at school tommrow!
Chris: MOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

[[ Kristi chuckles as Chris leaves the bedroom to go brush his teeth when Tom comes to the door. Chris turns to face him but has a strong look of fear in his eyes]]

Tom: Hey buddy, all ready for bed?
Chris: Y-yes sir...

[[ Chris cowers away towards the back of the bathroom as Tom steps inside]]

Tom: Oh hey I got something for you...well its for all of us, but I'm only going
to tell you. Can you keep it a secret?

[[ Chris nods his head but says nothing]]

Tom: Well I got us all tickets to the Pirates game tommorow night! Won't that be neat! We can get some dogs, and peanuts and watch the game! How does that sound?

[[ Chris stares at Tom's feet, afraid to make eye contact and remains silent]]

Tom: How does that sound buddy?
Chris: It sounds good...
Tom: GREAT! Then once I get home from work, we'll get ready and head on out! Deal?

[[ Chris nods again]]

Tom: Alright, just make sure you get that homework done when you get home.

[[ Tom looks at Chris and detects the fear that is on his face, the same fear
that is present everytime he talks to Chris. Tom lowers his head and gets ready to walk out the door]]

Tom: Alright buddy, well get some sleep and I'll see you in morning.

[[ Tom leaves the bathroom and Chris sighs relievedily. He walks back over to
sink and climbs up the mini step in front of it. He starts to brush his teeth
then Tom comes back to the door]]

Tom: Oh! I almost forgot!

[[ Chris is so frightened that he falls backwards onto the floor and looks up in
terror at his stepdad]]

Tom: Hey, you alright buddy?

[[ Chris just nods silently, hoping not to face repercussions for falling down]]

Tom: Okay...well, I just wanted to make sure I gave you some money for school tommorow.

[[ Tom reaches into his wallet and pulls out a five dollar bill. He holds it out
for Chris to take]]

Tom: Don't tell your mom but you should be able to get some ice cream with the extra money that you have left.

[[ Tom winks at Chris but Chris doesn't move from his place on the floor, scared stiff. Tom's face once again becomes very saddened and he places the bill on the sink top. He backs away a step into the hallway]]

Tom: Well, good night buddy. I love you.

[[ Tom waits for a response but nothing happens from Chris. Tom sighs and leaves the hallway going back downstairs. Chris picks himself up and stares at himself in the mirror, tears welling in his eyes
The scene fades out and back into the church as Chris is on the ground holding his face from Exile slapping him]]

Chris: But...that can't be right...
Exile: It is right Chris...that's reality. THAT is reality. Not this poor
pitiful Chris routine that you have all played up in your head. Not this poor
victimized Chris that you so desperately want to believe. NONE of that is true!
You created that all in your head because you are sick.

[[ Tears start streaming down Chris' face]]

Exile: Its time for this to be over Chris. I can't stand here and watch it
anymore. I can't see you destroy everyone in your life because you simply can't deal with the real world. You can't live like this anymore, you need help and you need it fast before someone else ends up dying. Before another Tom, an innocent person who loved you with all of his heart, dies because of you. It has to end now.

[[ Chris breaks out into deep sobs sitting on his knees with his head on the
ground]]

Exile: Its time for you to finally see...to see who you are, and what you've
become.

[[ Chris crawls over to Tom's casket and drapes himself over it uncontrolablly
crying]]

Chris: Im sorry....

[[ Chris is heaving, crying harder than hes ever had to cry before, washing away years upon years of grief stored up inside of him. Finally trying to realize the reality that he has shunned for so long]]

Chris: Im sorry...im sorry...im so so sorry....oh god....oh...oh god....im...im
so sorry....
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  #2  
Old 07-02-2010, 12:48 AM
The Inevitable Discovery Of A Carelessly Dangerous Narcissist

By far, your morbid confession of self-discovery is the most disturbing thing I have ever read. By not even attempting to change
the names of the pawns in your sick fantasy world (with the one glaringly selfish exception) you have unveiled yourself as not only
a potentially dangerous sociopath, but also a person with absolutely no regard to the privacy that is families inalienable right as human beings (and
American law).

It isn't just that you consider a story that should be hidden deep in a journal or behind the close doors a therapists office
fodder for a "fictional" screenplay your "friend" posted on your behalf, but that you didn't consider for a moment that having
such graphically violent fantasies about the death of a man isn't disturbing, but as an event that is justifiably detailed as
the reason you finally realized your greatest character flaw.

It is merely a footnote at the end that you try to justify the violent and gruesome thoughts of a mentally deranged killer who, in
textbook schizophrenic fashion, is driven to action by his conversations with a non-entity who exists solely in his mind..."well,
I just expressed in three pages my intense desire to kill this man who "beat me" when I was little and really got to kill him
just like I always wanted too...now I can reveal my true reason for this story...I realized I'm a pathological liar and he
was actually was trying to be a good step-father to me!"

I hope that you have taken the years since you written this story to be in accordance with how very deranged this comes across to a reader of this work.
The fact that the man that you explicitly name and graphically kill is a beloved member of family, and hopefully this fact doesn't prejudice my
objective reading too much, but I'm sure it certainly makes me a bit more emotionally involved.

My compassion and understanding for your troubled mind flew right out the window in the face of you writing about murder with
your protagonist's distinct sense of moral justification and pleasure in comitting such an act. It takes a very careful author to
handle the great tragedy of murder without seeming too capable of committing it, especially when the victims are truly alive and apart of that persons life.
Your story reads like a manifesto of intent. If you actually followed through with the act, it is so sincerley written that pre-mediation
(and thus first degree murder regardless) would be plainly obvious.

You wrote a play about it and didn't even change their names. To me, it reads like a warning of what you are capable of.

And it's still proudly displayed a few clicks away from knowing what you (or the fictional "Chris Lemke") wrote about doing to their dad.

Because that's what makes me the most sick about this...just that you fantasized about doing it at all.

You have me paying attention now, for the sake of your child, your brothers, and most of all for the man you killed with your pen in order to claim it made you
realize what was really true inside your mind.

Well here's another dose of the truth:

Writing a play about murdering a person and using real names, people, places, and things is no longer a mere work of fiction by an innocent imagination.
Also: you have a very severe mental illness...please do not make a joke out of it or minimize it or use it as an excuse to be recklessly ignorant. It's painful
enough to experience and excruciating when you ask for help and are not taken seriously. You should know this well enough by now.

And please never, ever write about killing anyone in my family ever again.

I tend to take such threats both much too personally and very very seriously. A

And I'm just one of them, we're a rather large family.

I just happen to be one of the more explicitly verbose. But I can't stay quiet when I am disturbed so deeply to my core.

I hope all of these years between us, and the few between this tale, have found you more matured in the matters of how a human beings should deserve to be treated and that you have found it worthwhile to truly care.

(also...I realize that you are of some stature on this blog and if you threaten to remove mine I will threaten to remove yours...it's been up too long and it shouldn't be glorified any longer...the internet isn't anonymous anymore when you use like this)
Reply With Quote
  #3  
Old 07-22-2010, 05:27 AM
Quote:
Originally Posted by eris.noxious View Post
By far, your morbid confession of self-discovery is the most disturbing thing I have ever read. By not even attempting to change
the names of the pawns in your sick fantasy world (with the one glaringly selfish exception) you have unveiled yourself as not only
a potentially dangerous sociopath, but also a person with absolutely no regard to the privacy that is families inalienable right as human beings (and
American law).

It isn't just that you consider a story that should be hidden deep in a journal or behind the close doors a therapists office
fodder for a "fictional" screenplay your "friend" posted on your behalf, but that you didn't consider for a moment that having
such graphically violent fantasies about the death of a man isn't disturbing, but as an event that is justifiably detailed as
the reason you finally realized your greatest character flaw.

It is merely a footnote at the end that you try to justify the violent and gruesome thoughts of a mentally deranged killer who, in
textbook schizophrenic fashion, is driven to action by his conversations with a non-entity who exists solely in his mind..."well,
I just expressed in three pages my intense desire to kill this man who "beat me" when I was little and really got to kill him
just like I always wanted too...now I can reveal my true reason for this story...I realized I'm a pathological liar and he
was actually was trying to be a good step-father to me!"

I hope that you have taken the years since you written this story to be in accordance with how very deranged this comes across to a reader of this work.
The fact that the man that you explicitly name and graphically kill is a beloved member of family, and hopefully this fact doesn't prejudice my
objective reading too much, but I'm sure it certainly makes me a bit more emotionally involved.

My compassion and understanding for your troubled mind flew right out the window in the face of you writing about murder with
your protagonist's distinct sense of moral justification and pleasure in comitting such an act. It takes a very careful author to
handle the great tragedy of murder without seeming too capable of committing it, especially when the victims are truly alive and apart of that persons life.
Your story reads like a manifesto of intent. If you actually followed through with the act, it is so sincerley written that pre-mediation
(and thus first degree murder regardless) would be plainly obvious.

You wrote a play about it and didn't even change their names. To me, it reads like a warning of what you are capable of.

And it's still proudly displayed a few clicks away from knowing what you (or the fictional "Chris Lemke") wrote about doing to their dad.

Because that's what makes me the most sick about this...just that you fantasized about doing it at all.

You have me paying attention now, for the sake of your child, your brothers, and most of all for the man you killed with your pen in order to claim it made you
realize what was really true inside your mind.

Well here's another dose of the truth:

Writing a play about murdering a person and using real names, people, places, and things is no longer a mere work of fiction by an innocent imagination.
Also: you have a very severe mental illness...please do not make a joke out of it or minimize it or use it as an excuse to be recklessly ignorant. It's painful
enough to experience and excruciating when you ask for help and are not taken seriously. You should know this well enough by now.

And please never, ever write about killing anyone in my family ever again.

I tend to take such threats both much too personally and very very seriously. A

And I'm just one of them, we're a rather large family.

I just happen to be one of the more explicitly verbose. But I can't stay quiet when I am disturbed so deeply to my core.

I hope all of these years between us, and the few between this tale, have found you more matured in the matters of how a human beings should deserve to be treated and that you have found it worthwhile to truly care.

(also...I realize that you are of some stature on this blog and if you threaten to remove mine I will threaten to remove yours...it's been up too long and it shouldn't be glorified any longer...the internet isn't anonymous anymore when you use like this)


Last edited by The Postmaster General; 07-22-2010 at 05:32 AM..
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