Musical block

A Story by Boy of the red

a story i have been writing a while

I woke up this Saturday morning like any other. I awoke in my cool bed with the blanket over me and my alarm clock going off, a splitting headache coming from the annoying, loud beeping coming off of it. I turned it off and quickly reached for my scarlet mp3 and headphones, noise canceling of course. I looked to the battery symbol and was happy to see the 100% glowing before me, full of life. I would need it for a long day in this house. I threw my legs out of bed and put on a light song to wake me up. I imagine it is used for some kind of background music. The singer was singing about the calm before the storm. I put it on shuffle and gently put it into my pocket. Like any other day I brushed my teeth, brushed my hair and other bathroom business.

When I stepped out there was a sad yet angry song asking a man if he felt bigger now. I turned into the hall and saw my brother on the floor, holding his cheek with his hand. I knew what had happened, Dad got mad, they yelled and he hit him. My song must have blocked it again. I looked at him, the middle of the song hitting its peak. He finally saw me and, with a shamed look, walked to his room. Only sparing time to push me against the wall. It did not bother me. It happened so often that it was just part of the horrible routine. I got up and walked down the hall. Just as the song was ending I saw my dad walking outside for a smoke, slamming the door just as the drummer hit his last note on a symbol. The singer, fading out, kept going on his last few lines and all I could hear was “so watch out… it’s coming back.”

So I sat, and watched the voiceless expressions of the actors on TV, making jokes that ii couldn’t hear. I tuned into what I was listening to and realized it was a sweet melody, one I had turned to many times. In times of the path of sadness. It always brought me up. I closed my eyes and rocked to it a bit, summoning my joy. When I opened my eyes again I saw my mother. Her sweet face coming down to give me a kiss on the forehead. Her left eye was purple and swollen. Although she smiles, something about the way she walks gives me a stir in my stomach. I decide the song has gone sour and I press the next button as she walks into the kitchen. It switches to a sad song with an angry singer. He was singing of suicide, something that I had pondered often. Yet it wasn’t him wanting to do it. It was about a boy being pushed to it. I did not think much of it and let it fade into the background with a loud thud of a final note; slightly sounding like it had came from the outside. My father walked into the room. A beast like impression on his face. He came to me, obviously screaming but I couldn’t hear. My headphone’s scream block out his. I got onto my feet to walk away but before I turned, the usual punch to the gut and one to the jaw came swiftly. I held myself on the floor for a little more than a minute. My headphones still secure, the song hitting it’s peak. I simply get up and walk to the couch. I know it will be worse if I say or do anything back. My father might threaten me with the pistol he keeps in the back of his jeans. Its raven black color shows against his pale, white skin. His gaze never leaves me. My music turns loud and screaming. A song that is battle cries and bloody shouts of war. Yet, it was no interest of mine. I looked to change the song but I as I lifted my haven, there was a splatter of fresh red blood. Looking up quickly I see my father the pulling the blade from his shoulder, in audible shouts coming from my mother as she reaches for it again, the blood running like wicked snakes from my father’s shoulder. Before my mother can get to it I see the raven leap from my father’s jeans and as its cry rang out, I see my mother fall to the ground, blood flowing like a peaceful stream from her chest. My mother smiling with her last breathes, looking at me, the knife falls too. No, she could not die. As the singer reached his top note, the world went red. I grabbed the knife and plunged it through my father’s back and into his god forsaken heart! His body went limp and fell to the ground, meaningless and wasted.

Stunned, I ran to my brother, he would know what to do. His room is not locked like usual. As I run in I am hit in the head but a hard shoe, he was hanging there. I tore away my headphones, I didn’t need them anymore. “Sean! Sean no!” I lifted him up and grabbed the blood soaked knife. I jumped and tore away the rope. He fell to the ground, not breathing. I pushed on his chest. “Wake up! Wake up come on!” I closed my eyes and hit him one last time.

I opened my eyes and the memory was over. I saw my wife smiling back at me. Her brown hair cascading over her shoulders. “Conor? You okay?” I smile back and take out my ear buds out. I stand up and kiss her, watching Adrian walk in, his little legs waddling and saying “daddy!” I came over and picked him up with a smile. “Hey buddy!” “We get to see unky Sean today!” He was excited to see his cousins. I picked him up and took my wife’s hand, and i walked out the door, looking forward to seeing my brother.

© 2013 Boy of the red

Author's Note

i am not sad anymore. why should my characters be? :)

My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register

Reviews

SlightlyOdd

Do you feel like a man when you push her around? Do you feel better now, she falls to the ground. Face down in the dirt she says this doesn't hurt, she says she finally had enough. That reminded me of the song face down by red jumpsuit apparatus. That was an interesting story, it was just a dream the past is important but not meant to be lived in.