DARK nights 2 PT 1 (standard:Psychological fiction, 572 words) [1/2] show all parts
Author: Zeth	Updated: Oct 09 2007	Views/Reads: 3679/0	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Sam was pushed too far by a bully

.:DARK nights 2:. 

“Wow, look at that wave”, Sam said, eyeing the shore from his secluded
sea house. Sam was a 12 year old boy with a thirst for irregularity. A 
straight line with a crook in it, perhaps a little abstract here and 
there. He also liked violence a lot, it was irregular from everyday 
life, and therefore it interested him. He was an outcast at school. He 
was not a geek, just a little different. A kid at school bullied him a 
lot. When they were littler, he used to shove rocks in his ear at the 
playground. Once it caused an ear infection so bad, it made him have to 
go to the hospital. It was a real ‘popper' for the bully. As the years 
progressed the tormenting got worse, at 10, the bully would kick him in 
the shin as hard as possible. At 11, the bully would trip Sam and kick 
him as hard as he could in the face. And today on his 12th birthday, 
the ‘bully' has declared a fight with him as the beach in an hour. 

To Sam's surprise he was okay with the fight. He knew he would loose,
but he felt that the bully would not hurt him TOO bad. Sam had skipped 
breakfast today, didn't want to spew chunks of oatmeal on his opponent; 
although it would be funny. But that was for an hour now. Actually, it 
was 58 minutes from now, but who gives a shit. That was 58 minutes of 
relaxation, 58 minutes of irregularity. “Wow, that wave is huge”, Sam 
said. “O God, it is going to hit that person, LOOK OUT!” yelled Sam. He 
felt a sharp tug on his shirt, he tried to whirl around to get a look 
at who it was but then he was thrusted out the window. He fell 2 and a 
half stories to a bush (which thankfully, his mother planted last 
spring) and lost all feeling. 

Dreary, he opened his eyes a storm cloud was above. A shape of a morphed
tiger perhaps. He looked down at himself and blood was everywhere, on 
his hands and his arms, and his torn chest. He went to go wipe it off 
when he realized, it was not blood, but spray paint. Slightly relived 
and abruptly angered he stood up with no difficulty; and then that is 
when he noticed the note stapled onto his shirt. He tore it from his 
fabrics that hold his bruised skin and read: 

Dear Sam, 

To my surprise you were late to our fight. I guess you were a little
shaken up from the fact that you were laying down on a bush. YOU LAZY 
FAG! And also I know who pushed you out the window. If your lazy ass 
can take it why don't you come to 2346 Forrest Ave. and beat the shit 
out of me to get the answer. If you have the courage. 

Outraged Sam went into his house, a brutal plan forming in his irregular
head. He grabbed a fork, a soldering tool and a knife and got ready to 
unleash his rage. 

He past a mirror and saw his forehead, it said: Fuck Me. 

“Fucker!!! You've pushed me TOO FUCKING FAR!!!!” a feeling of nothing to
lose was in his vain. He stormed out of the house and on his way to 
make a kid scream. 

To be finished...


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