Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → Tackeh's 10,000 Etchings

Tacky, I think I'm in love with your story.
I want more.
More.
Mooooooooooooore!

I'm glad you guys like it.

Part 3

That night, I finally manage to forget about the kid next door. I toss and turn, head filled with thoughts of life, death, and school. I glance at my blinking clock, straining my neck. 1:00 A.M. I count on my fingers. That brings me to....about four days and five hours before school starts up again. School. With its jerks and its ditzy little schoolgirls who don't know anything.
Then, for the fifth time that week, a loud noise smashes my eardrums. Except this time it's a scream. Throwing back the covers, I swiftly run to the window and throw it open, peering into the night. It's coming from the new neighbor's house. An upstairs light is on, and I can vaguely make out dark silhouttes. Should I call the police? But the screams stop and falter into what sounds like sobbing. I pause, my hand inches from the phone. Should I? Should- I decide not to, and at that moment I feel more worthless than I had ever felt before.

The next day, I'm expecting his light tap at the sill as I lounge on my bed with the bottle. I rush to the window. Why do I feel worried?
It's hard to see, but I can make out a blotchy purple bruise on his cheek. My breath catches, though I don't know why. He's just a mangy little boy.
"Did you take the pill?" He asks in a surprisingly normal voice.
"N-No" I mutter, ashamed. I should have done something..I-
"Good." He says, and turns to walk away.
A private war is waged in my head as I debate whether or not- "Wait!" I shout after him. Curses. "I'll..I'll go for a walk with you." Berating myself, I throw the bottle of pills under my bed and lean out the window.
He smiles, though you can tell it hurts his cheek. "Great!"
"What's your name, anyways?" I ask, climbing out of the window.
"Philip." He says happily.

We make our way around the neighborhood in silence. His brow is furrowed and his lips are pressed shut.
I sigh. "You can ask, if you really want."
He relaxes slightly. "Why do you want to kill yourself?"
It's hard to really think about it with his innocent eyes staring into mine. "I don't have a purpose." I say eventually.
He frowns "Of course you do." We're walking out of our little street and onto the road. There's construction across the street, and like the child he is, Philip pulls me across the road to look at the machinery. There's silence for a few moments as he remains fixated on the pulleys and rumbling tractors.
"No, I don't. You wouldn't know. You don't know me." I realize my tone sounds a bit bratty, then remind myself that I don't care what this twerp thinks of me. But his blotched cheek draws my eyes again, and I decide to tone it down a bit. "I don't do anything for my family, for my school or for myself. You know?"
He turns his attention back to me and is about to say something when-
"Hey. Hey kid!!" An angry worker snarles at us, scraggly beard twitching fiercly. "If you're gonna stand and talk, do it somewhere else!"
Philip's eyes suddenly grow wide, and he starts to tremble. "I-"
"Are you deaf?!" The worker continues to shout, walking towards us. "Get outta here! We're working!"
Backing away, Philip starts stuttering again. S-Sorry...I didn't mean..."
"You didn't mean what?! To bother us?! We're WORKING here!"
Then Philip backs onto the road, and the traffic lights turn green.

NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DON'T YOU DARE KILL HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I WILL NEVER READ YOUR WORK AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!! DON'T KILL HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Please...?

:3 Interesting story, it's brilliant Tacky.
Just don't kill him.. D:

This is such an interesting story. But please don't kill Phillip.
Just one thing, is the character a boy or a girl? Well I'm assuming it's a girl just 'cause. And you say that she is in her bedroom. Most bedrooms are on the second floor. So she would be talking to the child from the second floor window. And the only way Philip can see the pills is if she takes it will looking out of the window. You say she takes it from the bed.
Correct me if I'm wrong.

All shall be revealed when the next section is up. Like Moon, I probably won't be posting on my poetry thread that often anymore, since I'm working on the AG Adventure story, and also there are AP Euro exams coming up. Joy.

Jeol is right about the first story bedroom, by the way.

I know I said I wasn't going to write, but I kept going back to my story and adding more. So here's another little bit.

One car zooms past him, narrowly missing his small frame. Then two. Panic rises until I can taste it at the back of my throat, bitter and sour. I don't think. I can't think. I lunge into the street, past the honking cars, grab his arm and pull him to the sidewalk. He's shaking uncontrollably as I sit him down on the curb. I shoot a murderous glare at the shocked construction worker, and turn my attention to Philip. His eyes are wide but he slowly calms down. Words form on his lips.
"Are you all right?" I say, trying to keep my own voice from shaking. "What are you trying to say?"
His eyes focus on my face and he takes a deep breath. "See? You are important after all." A tiny grin appears on his face.
I groan.
"No, really." He straightens up a bit. "What would have happened to me if you had decided to kill yourself yesterday?"
"Well, you wouldn't have come this way anyway-" I start crossly.
"I go this way every afternoon." He says in a matter of factly tone. "I would have died."
Once again, he astounds me with the maturity in his voice. I smile weakly. "Either way, I better get you home. Your parents must be wondering where you are." I bite my tongue. Should I have said that?
But he shows no sign of sadness, anger or anything other than calm happiness. "Let's go."
I walk him all the way up to his doorstep. It's dirty and grimy, even for a doormat. It's only then he shows signs of discomfort. "I think you should go-"
"YOU LITTLE RAT!!!!!!" A horribly crude voice resounds from inside the dingy house. "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, YOU MONGREL?"
"Please, don't, Lou, please-" A woman's wheedling cry is cut short by a loud slap. "Please-"
"SHADDAP!!!! I DIDN'T ASK YOU!!! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, RAT?!" I find myself holding onto Philip's sleeve tightly. I'm worried if I let him go, he'll disappear and never return.
Philip doesn't even turn to look at me. He shakes me off, runs into the house and slams the door with a resigned thud.
I'm left standing there, afraid to stay, but even more afraid to leave.

:0
intresting work! Good! Are you published? I could so see your work in a teen magazine (this one)
Im happy the little kid didnt die, but now i wanna hurtthe parents for hurting lil phillip.

Oh my god...
Go on.
Please.
For the love of Trees, go on.

And it has been revealed. You have now made it hard to guess what will happen next. I am filled with wonder.

:0
intresting work! Good! Are you published? I could so see your work in a teen magazine (this one)
Im happy the little kid didnt die, but now i wanna hurtthe parents for hurting lil phillip.

Oh my god...
Go on.
Please.
For the love of Trees, go on.

Philip doesn't knock on my window the next day. Or the next. Or the next. The screaming at night continues, and I start to wonder if I'm the only one that hears it.. Only two more days until school starts up again, and I'm worrying about a mongrel of a child. The pills are untouched under my bed. Then, on one sunny afternoon, I decide to do something ridiculously out of character. I grab a screwdriver. I grab a hammer. And finally, I grap some rope.
"Oh, boy." I tie the rope around my waist as a belt and stick the hammer and screwdriver in there, for lock-picking purposes.
You may be wondering why I don't just call the police. I probably should have, right? But I didn't. I just couldn't.
I sneak my way up against their house, but am sadly confronted by my own mother who was sitting on her balcony sipping tea or something of the like.
"Bella?" She calls. "Bella, darling, what are you doing?"
"Uh." My mind races. "School project." She pauses, then smiles airily and walks back into the house.
"Just don't spend too much time on it."
I continue my sneaking until I get to the front door of the house. I peer in through the little side windows. Everything is black but for the pinpoint of hazy light coming from the upstairs. Upstairs. Darn it. I make my way around the side of the house again. Thank goodness we don't have any other neighbors. They would probably think I'm insane. How do I get in-?
I spot a balcony right above their back porch's railing. With a running jump, I leap from the spongy grass to the railing, and before I know it, I'm holding onto a balcony for dear life. I'm not an athete, but I'm still pretty strong, so I manage to pull myself up and over the creaking railing. Panting, I sit and try to get my breath back.
A thud sounds from inside. I freeze and throw myself against the side of the house. Peering through the window, I can see that the room is dark and motionless. I carefully try the handle. Unlocked, of course.
Now inside, I'm hit by a horrible stench. It's of rotting food and sweaty laundry, and it leaves me gagging for a few moments. Then there's another thud, followed by a horrible scream, and some muffled shouting. Like at the construction site, I don't think about the consequences. I sprint out of the room and crash my way into the next.
There, I'm face to face with what I was fearing all those wretched nights. A disheveled man stands over a bruised and beaten woman, fists clenched, face contorted with grotesque anger. The smell of alcohol wafts through the air. Philip is curled up near her, trying to shield her body. The man lifts his hand to hit her again, and before I can stop myself, I yell with all my might. "DON'T!"

tense fail.

*by my own mother [] sitting on....

Don't stop here. Don't you dare. This is one of the highlights of my week.

Please don't stop. This is the best short story I have ever read. So please continue or I would be pretty bummed.