Hey everyone, I'm just doing some final revisions on some of the stories I've wrote over the past semester at school. The following story is one I'm handing in. I just thought I would post it here for all to read. Enjoy! Close To Bottom By: Brian Winter blows through the fabric of my coat, the coat itself is meant for summer weather but it is the only one I can afford at the moment. Even though I curse the cold night soon my body will be numb and the winter will have no effect on me. Three men exit a nearby house, their parkas reflect the streetlight much like the fresh snow on the road, and I wonder what they are made out of. “Hey come here,” one yells. My stomach starts to ache, combined with the reputation of this street I know I’m in trouble. Instead of running I look down at my feet and keep on walking home. “Hey bitch, I’m fucking talking to you,” his voice is the only thing that makes any sound. “Can you not hear me, get over here,” I don’t want to turn around by my feet have a mind of their own. They decide it’s better to face the problem then run away from it. I turn around and walk towards the trio. “Do you have a smoke?” The question isn’t to be answered; it is to catch me off guard and unfortunately works. He fist flies out of nowhere and the side of my face reels with the blow. I am alert but too shocked by the events that are unfolding to fight back. His other fist flies up, connects with my jaw and causes a loud cracking sound in my head. Over the span of a couple of second I have a swollen eye, torn lip, bleeding nose and my jaw feels loose. The only thing I can say is “I don’t have any fucking smokes,” but I’m sure that it sounds like a bunch of incoherent rambling. I could fight back but if I do that then I’m sure the other two will jump in and beat me even worse. I know that if I run then I will be chased down and kicked into the dark pits of unconsciousness. The only option I have is walk away. Turing around doesn’t cost me as much as I thought it would. One punch to the back of my head, one to my neck, a boot to my upper thigh and a shove for the road, then the assault stops with being called a bitch one more time. Instead of walking down the side streets I head down an alley that leads me to one of the main roads of the city. I’m happy that the city is asleep because it saves me the humiliation of people knowing that I just got the shit kicked out of me. The taste of warm copper and the feeling of blood drying on my face make me wonder if I should stop at the hospital on the way home to get stitches. I start to wonder about the worse case scenario, maybe I have a concussion and if I fall to sleep I will never wake up again. That would be a nice change to what I have now. The rest of my journey home is blurry. An icy bridge, a frigid river, sneezing crimson fluid, my blood, a pain in my eye and another man just as messed up as my self walking a bike, maybe he is a hallucination. Whoever this man is I laugh at his pain, I can do this because I’m broken too. Before I know it, I’m approaching two towers that reach out of the flat landscape for the sky. I call one of these buildings home. My roommate has never made me a key so I hope that he is still awake, it’s only about one in the morning so more the likely he is. I buzz up. “Who is it?” he sounds confused. “Ryian” my jaw clicks when I try to talk. “Who” “Ryian. Est ret mee rin, bashol!” “Brian is that you?” “Yea,” a little bit of pink saliva escapes from the corner of my mouth when the skin is torn. He buzzes me in and I take the elevator to the third floor. My body starts to regain feeling, my head throbs with every heartbeat and in the light I notice that I can’t see properly out of my left eye. When I make it to my apartment my roommate is sitting in the chair surrounded by beer bottles watching one of five new porns that he bought this afternoon. I moan at this sight but not like one of the girls in the movie. It takes him a couple of seconds to look at me, I take off my coat and toss it on the floor. “Dude, what the happened to you?” I try to explain but my mouth is too swollen to make any logical sense, the only thing that I can get out that sounds remotely right is “Asspin”. He points up at the cupboard “I think we have some up there. Hey I don’t want to sound like an ass but could you stop bleeding over the floor”. I pop two aspirin, chase them down with some cheap vodka, shoot my roommate a dirty look and head to the bathroom. My eyes squint in the bright light. This is the first time that I get to survey the damage done; I pray it’s superficial. The reflection looks like tenderized beef with two little slits for eyes. The man in the mirror is not me, at least not how I remember me but we are brothers in suffering. I run a sink full of water, whiskers from this mornings shave float around. I soak a face cloth and start dabbing crusty fluids that have dried around almost every hole in my head until I’m familiar with the face looking back at me. I take a quick piss; even relieving myself hurts and then head off to bed. Books are lying on my futon; I push them off and wrap myself in the warm security of a blanket. My roommate looks a little upset that I came home because he didn’t get a chance to pleasure himself to his new videos. Usually I would argue with him that I’m able to come home whenever I want because I pay rent or we would fight about the key but not tonight. He turns off the television and goes to the bathroom, I’m sure he will be in there for a while. I close my eyes and hope that I never have to wake up.
Brilliant story, Brian. It oozes with naturalism and humanity (and by that I mean the TRUE face of humanity, like the one we've seen in Iraq). I enjoyed the Kung Fu in the beginning, but I wished you had fought back. My philosophy is: you're more than me and you can kill me, but I'm going to take a couple of you fuckers with me to hell before I go. BTW your flatmate sounds like he needs a good kicking, too.
Good story, it was a bit sparse on description at first so I guessed it was set in Canada because you live in Ottowa or is that in the USA. Anyway it was sparse on description so I immagined those sort of appartment buildings in NY was the scene (with the concrete steps etc) but If i dont get a good description of the scene at the beginning, and more to the point a sort backround to the main characters state of mind, then I just drift off as soon as the dialogue starts. I tried to read it all but couldnt because I couldnt picture the scene too well All really brilliant stories have one thing in common. they split the story into 3 parts 1)they show how life normally is. 2)then they show what disturbs that normality, and how beople deal with it. 3)and then they show how things resolve - what the new normality is.
Thank you very much for the feedback. White Scorpion - I wish I fought back too, it may have made things a little more interesting. sentient - Thanks for the pointers, this was an attempt at minimilist writing. I'm not a big fan of description but when I rewrite this I'll try to add more. Again, thanks for the feedback guys.
