Advertise Here
Want to advertise here? Get started for as little as $5


A Story by Strife

A story I did for a writing prompt on another website


       He sat there waiting for the clock to strike two. He had an appointment today; one he looked forward to. This didn't happen everyday, but since it did, he was going to do all he could.
      "Excuse me, Mister Robertson, he's here," said the speaker box on his desk.
      "Thank you Jessie, send him in." He sat behind his desk as he watched the door in front of him open. A student wearing a black hood walked into his office and took a seat. "You wanna take that off?" he asked.
      The student hesitated, but eventually took it off showing his black windswept hair. It was in a certain style that the kids wear these days. It was called, "emo," or something like that. The student crossed his arms and looked around the small colorfully decorated office. "Nice place," he said.
      "Thanks," said Robertson with a smile. "Listen Micheal, classes are still going and you probably want me out of your hair, so why don't we make this quick? How are you?"
      Micheal bit his lip. "I'm fine."
      "I know it's tough with an important guy like your dad dying and all. I can't imagine what kind of a hassle everyone has been giving you, but I just want you to know that I'm here to talk whenever you want."
      Micheal blinked. "Good to know."
      "Well then," said Robertson, "Is there anything you'd like to talk about right now?"
      "She didn't do it."
      Robertson arched a brow. "Pardon?"
      "My mom," Micheal said. "She didn't do it."
      "Now how do you-"
      "You don't believe me," said Micheal.
      Robertson leaned back into his chair and stroked his chin. Of course he didn't believe him. The entire city was going on about the scandal. Apparently the mayor had been caught by his wife with another woman. The local media went crazy for it, interviewing everyone and building up the hype. It kept on going until they found him dead in his car. The police decided to go with the obvious suspect and took the wife in for questioning, leaving their son Micheal, alone. “And what makes you say that?”
      The bell rang before Micheal could answer. Instead, he stood up and opened the door. “I have to go to class.”
      A few seconds later, Robertson was alone in his office. “Now what makes him say that?”
      The phone rang throughout the entire house. The only thing that followed was the sound of Robertson's footsteps. He snatched the phone from the desk. “Hello?”
      “Hello,” the voice answered.
      “It's me, Ted.”
      “Oh, right right, what's going on Ted?”
      “Well, you tell me,” said Ted. “You know I'm working on the mayor's case, and I just found out that you're having counsellings sessions with his kid.”
      “Ted, we've only had one session.”
      “Did he say anything?” asked Ted.
      “Did he say anything?” Ted asked sternly.
      “Uh, yeah. He said his mother didn't do it. Why?”
      Robertson could hear Ted sigh on the other line. “Because according to eyewitness accounts, the kid was the last one to be seen with the mayor before is apparent suicide. If it is a suicide.”
      Robertson turned his head and thought, 'the kid was so sure.'
      “Listen,” Ted said. “Be careful with the kid okay. He freaks me out.”
      Robertson sat back on his desk, drumming his pencil. He took a glance at the clock. Two-thirty. He decided that he had to have a talk with the kid. He was still shook up by Ted's call, and he had to get the truth somehow.
      “Mister Robertson,” said the speaker box on his desk. “They saw the boy going up the stairs. Should I call someone to go get him?”
      “No Jessie,” he said. “I'll go see him myself.” Robertson left his office and headed up the stairs out of the hallway. The kid could try to hide from this, but he probably won't be expecting a direct confrontation.
      He didn't spot him going past the second floor. When Robertson reached the third floor a student walked up to him. “Mr. Robertson, I saw Micheal go up to the roof.”
      “The roof?” Robertson hurried up the stairs and swung the top door open. 'He couldn't be thinking about jumping,' he thought. 'Could he?'
      After the light from the outside stopped flooding Robertson's vision, he saw Micheal standing in the center, far from the edges and corners.
      “Micheal,” Robertson started. “What are you doing up here? Come on, let's go into my office. Whatever is going on, we can talk about it.”
      “I knew you would come up here.”
      “Oh yeah?” Robertson made small steps towards Micheal. He wanted to make sure he didn't do anything that would provoke him.
      “Mister Roberson,” Micheal said. “Do you know my mother? Or my father personally?”
      “No. I can't say I do.”
      “My mother is the only person who has ever been nice to me for my entire life. My father is different. Very different. Everyday I was forced to sit there and be quiet. I wasn't allowed to do or say anything. I was better seen, not heard he said.” Micheal glared at Robertson.
      'Oh my...' thought Robertson. 'Did he? Is he the one who-' Robertson yelped in pain as an unseen force brought him down to his knees. Against his will, his body picked itself up and walked past Micheal.
      “I see. So that's how far it's gone now. I suppose you're wondering what's happening to your body. Well believe it or not, repressing all my emotions caused my brain to try to create another way of reaching out into the world. Now my blessed organ allows me to influence people thought and control and move objects with my mind. Just like in that movie Carrie.”
      Robertson staggered as he tried to stop is legs from walking forward, closer and closer to the edge.
      “When I found out about my father's scandal, I confronted him. However he didn't want to put up with me. So I did to him what I'm going to do to you. This time it's nothing personal. I just wanted to test the limits of my power.”
      As the edge came into view, Robertson saw the teacher's parking lot below him.
      “Have you seen Secret Window? I love that movie. The last lines are my favorite.”
      Robertson trembled at the sight of the edge right below his feet.
      "'I know I can do it,' Todd Downey said, helping himself to another ear of corn from the steaming bowl. 'I'm sure that in time, every bit of her will be gone and her death will be a mystery... even to me.'"
      The last thing Robertson saw was his own car.

© 2009 Strife

Author's Note

I think this is only the second time I've done this kinda story.

My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register

Share This
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Added on May 9, 2009



McAllen, TX

I'm Strife, and I joined because I'm aspiring writer (sorta) and I just wanted to make sure whatever I write doesn't end up being horrible. I don't have a favorite author, but I probably should. Sayi.. more..

A Dream A Dream

A Poem by Strife