So I'm not that butt hurt that my short story was removed and I was threatened with a ban. I am just puzzled as to why. I had trigger warnings. I originally posted the story as The Watchers and it was removed because the narrator died. I forgot that rule. So I made sure I followed all of them with new tweaks and endings.
I honestly just want to know. A mod ruined the narrative flow of my first story The Last Fourth of July by deleted sections of the story. My publisher told me to take it down from Reddit so I'm over that. It's just weird. I read some of the other NSFW stories and they went beyond anything in my short story. I'm really limited in what I can write, I'm no good at making a "weird thing that happened at my job" story. Or yet another "Found journal" tale. Story below.
NSFWr/nosleepRemoved | Inappropriate They Wait u/Xerede16h
Today I let my alarm go off for two hours. A new world record. I laid in bed with a full bladder and a severe case of crotch rotch. You know that perfect equilibrium of musk and stank that men accumulates, by not bathing. I laid there in my filth, just listening to my phones ringtone which sounds like a nuclear launch is imminent. Yep, two hours is my limit.
The trifecta of stank, having to piss, and the migraine that baked to the sound of my alarm ringing got me out of bed. I almost broke my phone into pieces. Would have too if I didn't have to run to the toilet.
Afterwards I took what had to be my first shower in weeks. Just like I did the last time I cleaned myself, I fell to my knees and wept. I didn’t have to look up. Through the steam and shower curtain I could feel her tiny eye watching me. Always watching. I stood up and screamed. “Say something!”
Of course, only silence was returned. I turned the shower off and numbly stepped out. I almost slipped on the wet, dirty linoleum. I braced myself with the sink. I reached over and grabbed the cleanest looking towel from a hanging shelf. The girl didn’t move as my arm had to pass through her head to grab the towel.
As always I got the cold chills, like placing a wet arm through a deep freezer. Her lone eye followed me as I left the bathroom. I changed into red jogging pants and a green sweater. My last two remaining pieces of clean clothes. I looked around my filthy home. It was just a matter of time before I lose this palatial house. I haven’t paid my mortgage in the last six months.
I thought back to my wife walking through the empty rooms, waving her arms around, planning where she would hang this painting, where she would place the credenza. The other couples at the open house were giving us the evil eye. No matter we laughed. We knew this house would be ours. After all, we were putting down half the asking price for the six bedroom Victorian style three story. It was once so full of warmth and happiness. Now it was silent as a tomb. And just as filled with dead things.
I opened the refrigerator, the old woman with the half burned face was waiting inside. No matter how many times I see the old bat I still yelped and jumped out of my socks. “God damnit!” I grunted as I reached for one of the cartons of milk that was only lightly expired. I slammed the refrigerator door on her. I glanced at the wall clock.
It was almost 3 P.M. My wife would soon make her appearance. I sighed as I made a bowl of Frosted Flakes. I flicked a few moldy pieces out of my bowl and ate. I thought about my finances. My savings has been depleted for a week now. For the first time in my adult life, I had no income coming. My mother had carefully broached the subject about money. She told me it was time to move on and that I should finally file my insurance claim.
I turned to the refrigerator. The unsigned document hung by a small magnet. The magnet was a circle picture of my two boys. Taken on a field trip to the Smithsonian. They both smiled at me from the picture. Those faces had so much hope and dreams in them. I picked the magnet up, letting the document fall and spread out on the floor. I cupped their tiny faces in my palm and placed it over my heart. I opened my hand and looked at their faces again.
Tears welled in my eyes. I knew that when I look up I will see their grotesque, swollen and knotted faces staring at me. I sighed and placed the magnet back. I picked the document up and walked past my two sons, as they stood hand and hand in front of the dining table. Blood had already starting to pool around their feet. I walked back to my bedroom. The little girl who always waits in my bathroom had actually stepped out into the hallway. Our eyes locked. Well I should say my eyes locked into her eye. Her left one was hanging by a bloody vein. It gently swayed in a breeze that didn’t exist. “This is a first. Will you always wait in the hallway? Because that would just be great for my bowel movements!”
Expecting no, and not getting one I closed my bedroom door and slumped back into bed. At the foot of my bed stood Angry Black. Well that is what I call him. I know that is racist but I didn’t know how else to refer to him. It wasn’t like he would ever tell me my name. And I have had people stand next to him, I have tried to take his picture and video record him. Nothing. No one can see him and his picture cannot be taken. So Angry Black is his name. Out of all the apparitions, he was the only one who showed any emotions. It was Angry Black that I communicated with the most. I would tell him about my nightmares and what new kind of drink I would make.
Angry Black as always, stood there seething at me silently. He was tall with a bald head and a goatee. I can tell in life he was considered very handsome. He was also the most put together apparition. With only a lightning bolt crack running down the front of his head. You can barely see his brain. His mouth was pulled back in an angry sneer. I looked at him thoughtfully.
“What are you saying to me now Angry Black? Are you cursing at me for not calling a taxi? For closing my eyes for a split second?” Do you curse at me for taking away your loved ones? Which ghost is it? The Asian child in my hallway? The old lady in the kitchen? The tall blond lady in my garage? Or maybe you hate me because your loved ones is still alive. But you’re stuck here with me.” I reached for the glass on the small table next to the bed. I practically inhaled the last of my Scotch.
I cursed. I would have to leave the house to buy more drinks. Maybe even get some food and laundry detergent this time. I instantly remembered my money issue. The issue being I don’t have any more. I placed the empty glass down and picked up the insurance paper. I have read it over a thousand times. Still, my eyes go to the same paragraph, ‘By signing this agreement, you are hereby absolving B.M.W. of any responsibility and fault to include any future judgment and/or settlements’ I picked a pen up. I hovered over the signature line. I dropped the pen and cursed again.
“Absolve!” I rolled my eyes. I looked at Angry Black. He was pointing at me this time. “I should be in jail, Angry Black.” My mother made sure that didn’t happen. Even after I cried into her lap like a child and blubbered how my carelessness took 7 innocent lives. She slapped me and told me that no son of hers will ever go to jail. She used the lawyers from our company. They went after the car manufactures, the emergency responders even the families of the victims. All to ensure that no Hamilton will ever have to spend not even 1 day, answering for their crimes.
It was three o’clock now. Time to see my wife. I left the bedroom. Angry Black silently stabbed daggers into me with his eyes. I walked downstairs. The winding staircase presented the double doors of the front entrance. She was standing there of course. Her hair was greasy with blood. The impact of the crash dented the front of her face. A jagged tooth was pushed out through one of her cheeks. “Hi baby.” I quietly greeted her. As she always did she had her eyes folded over her chest. As if she was hiding some great secret from me. I sat on the stairs and watched her. She swayed back and forth on the balls of her feet. Much like she would do in life. Especially if music was playing. No matter what she was doing, she would sway to any music unconsciously.
I reached into my pocket and pulled my phone out. I thumped through an app and select it to play music downstairs. Radiohead started to pulsate out from the tiny almost hidden speakers in the corner of the walls. It was her favorite. Even if she could smile in response her face was warped and bloody. Pieces of her tongue littered her neck. I cried again. “Glenda, I don’t think I can take it anymore. I know a price must be paid. I know what I have done. I deserve this and more. I am too much of a coward to end it. If I know you would be waiting for me on the other side with the kids, I would…” I paused. In my other pocket just like always was the small snub nose pistol that I inherited from my grandfather.
I have had the barrel against my head, in my mouth, and under my chin too many times. I pulled it out. “Just nod or shake your head. Wink to me. Give me any indications that this is what you want!” I pleaded. She swayed silently holding her hands against her chest. I dropped the gun. As always nothing. Soon she would disappear. She was the only one who appeared and disappeared in regular intervals. Even her deformed and bloody form was my only sliver of happiness each day. She started to fade away.
I ran to her. My hand passed through her shoulders. “Glenda! Please! Give me some indication. Talk to me! I would willing go to hell right now if I could be with you and the boys!” I screamed in frustration at her silence. A trickle of blood and teeth fragments drippled down her sideways mouth. I dropped my hands to my side and sighed. She stop swaying back and forth. I froze. This was a new movement from her. Just like the Asian girl in the bathroom, something different was happening today! “Glenda! What is it! Show me! Tell me! Please!” She opened her hands. I gasped as I looked down.
She held a bloody bean in her hand. No. No, God, no! Tiny black stalks of eyes protruded from its tiny head. I backed away. She looked up at me, extended both hands out as if presenting a gift to me. I screamed. She took a step forward. I backed into the steps my hands brushing the cold steel of the gun. I pointed it at her as she took another step towards me. The small form in her hands twitched. I killed 8 people! There are prolific serial killers who haven’t taken as many lives as I have. I pointed the gun at her. “God damnit! Stay away from me Glenda!” Why wouldn’t she disappearing as she usually does?
I squeezed three shots off. The glass on the doors broke as the bullets passed through her. She continued to approach me. She leaned down towards me as if I was to pick up the small chunk of our child. No! I screamed again. This time I didn’t hesitate, I didn’t overthink it, I didn’t try to fight. I squeezed the trigger as hard as I could! The trigger didn’t budge! I stared dumfounded into the barrel.
I aimed at my wife again. Two shots rang out destroying the last of the door’s glass paneling. She was leaning so close to me that I could smell her breath. It had the copper stench of blood and burning rubber. I am in hell! I dropped the now empty and smoking gun onto the floor. I could not take my eyes off the small wiggling form in her hands. I started to scream again.
“Dude shut the fuck up!” My bunkmate accented this by punching the bottom of my mattress. My kidney throbbed, Simon hits hard. Indeed, I know that well. “S.s.sorry.” I stammered. “I had another…”
“Yeah, yeah another nightmare. You need to get over it or I’m going to fucking beat you death one day.” He sneered. I sat up still massaging my side. “You don’t understand I just found out…”
“Yeah I know that too. I read our mail. Your old lady moved on and married some nigger and now she is carrying his baby, cry me a fucking river. Did you expect her to wait 15 years for your sorry drunk driving ass?”
I stiffened. Simon called it our mail because everything that is mines belongs to him. I balled my fist up. I choke back the urge to jump off the bed and attack him. I swallowed and held back a sob. No sense spending two weeks in the ER.
“Sorry for waking you, sir.” I seethed in my words. Simon either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
“Well now that I’m awoke, I have another use for that mouth besides screaming. Get down here.” He commanded.
I looked out towards the hallway. No guards in sight. Tears rolled down my eyes. I slowly slid from the top bunk. Simon put his hands behind his head and smiled. If only I was brave enough to bash his teeth in. If only I was brave enough to pull the trigger. I had 4984 days left in hell. All I can do is wait.
The End
Submitted September 14, 2016 at 06:51PM by Xerede http://ift.tt/2cEshdX NoSleepOOC
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