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Member
Join Date: Oct 2004
Location: Long Island
Posts: 6
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Posting My first Short. R&R, thanks!
Ok, so Im suppose to post my stories that I want feedback on here. ok, thats cool, so here is my first short story call "Ligatio". Enjoy.
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Where is it? It has to be here. Its not in any of the crates. Of course their fully loaded with a bunch of shit that I’m never gonna be using ever again. Damnit, I've checked almost everywhere in this goddamn basement. The large grandfather clock in the corner says that its 12:30. I’m going to be late. I cant be late. Wait, the clock, of course. I put it behind the clock! I move the clock aside and take a step back. There it is. In all its glory, a gift from God himself. A 5ft tall, silver plated, double barrel elephant gun. I found you. I put it in the holster on my back, grab the gasoline containers and matches and head out. Today will be a glorious day. Today, I gain my freedom....
The park is just across the street from my house, so I was never in any danger of being late. I prefer to get to my destinations ahead of time. Look at them, they're all so young. The older ones can't be more than 14. No parents or grandparents in sight. To them, this is a sanctuary. A place where you can go to relax and not worry about the days problems, to be "free". Some people would call what I'm about to be a senseless act of violence that could have been prevented. They're wrong, this could not be avoided. There is a reason to all this. They cannot begin to understand why I am going to do this. I myself am still in awe over all of it, so I will try to explain it with the best of my ability...
When you live in a country such as the United States certain things are drilled into your head. Freedom is one of these things. Countries such as mine cant help but boast about how great they are. How you as a person have the freedom of choice, the freedom to speak your mind without fear of persecution, and most importantly, that you are born free. They are wrong, no one is ever born free. We are all born with shackles attached to us. There are four, one on each wrist, and one on each leg. Ever since I was young I had felt them, the weight that they applied to my body. Shortly after feeling them, I actually began to see them. At first it didn’t seem that big of a deal, I mean, how bad could they possibly be if you were still able to move around with them on? My question would soon be answered.
They say the goodbye is always the hardest thing to say to someone, especially when they die. I never felt that way, not because I didn't care. Just because there have to be more difficult things in life than just saying goodbye to someone, dead or alive. At least that’s what I thought. It happened about a year ago. I was attending the funeral of my aunt Judy and uncle Ron, who had died in a car accident. People would describe my aunt Judy as an above average woman, who always had a smile and something good to say no matter what. To me, she was just another slave, no different than the rest of us. My uncle on the other hand was different. For as long as I can remember, I never felt or saw his chains. I never really bothered to ask because I didn’t know, I didn’t know. When they lowered the caskets into the ground something told me to turn around. What I saw will forever stay with me. There they were, my aunt and uncle. My uncle Ron began to ascend upward, followed by my aunt. That’s when I realized their purpose, to stop you. Uncle Ron continued to go to the heavens while my aunt Judy was stopped midair, and held their. She screamed frantically for Ron to help her, she desperately tried to free herself. "Don't let this happen to you John" my uncle said to me. "Don't be like them". I looked back down and saw not only my aunt but thousands of poor souls suspended in midair by the chains, moaning and screaming to be released. I could never let this happen to me, I had to find a way to break free.
The first sign came just a few months ago on a train ride home from the city. I made frequent trips to the city because it was the closest feeling of peace I could ever hope to achieve. In the city, you are no one, just part of the crowd. All the people who think their such big shots are nothing when they walk the streets of the city. Just a very small part of a whole. There are no feelings going through you when you're there. When you know what I do, this is a blessing. I digress from my point, I was on the train home, feeling particularly depressed because school was starting up soon and that meant my trips to the city would be few and far between. There were only three other people in the car with me. A couple who were probably in their twenties, and a middle aged business man. The couple held each other tightly, kissing each other every couple of seconds. the business man sat quietly reading his paper and going over his notes. Everything was calm and went without problem until a man, who I'd say was around thirty came into the car. He was tall around 5'9''-5'10'', with grayish black hair. The clothes he wore were nothing out of the ordinary but fit him perfectly, as though they were made specifically for him. the look on his face is what caught my attention. He knew how to break free.
Without hesitation he opened fire on them. First he shot the couple, then the business man. He then pointed the gun at me. He didn't shoot though, just pointed it at me. "Ignorance is bliss" he said. "Thanks to me they are now free." "How" I asked. "Everyone lives without truly knowing what will happen to them when they die. Some think that they'll go to heaven, some think that they'll go to hell. Their all wrong. No one really knows because they're all stuck in midair for all eternity. There are only a selected few who can see our chains, and even fewer who can break free of them. Now, those poor souls can ascend into paradise, as can I. You on the other hand know, you won't get freedom if I kill you. You know what you have to do". With that he drew the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. I saw the mans soul, along with the souls of the others rise up and go out the car ceiling into the heavens, no chains holding them down.
Once the police finished questioning me about what happened, I was let go. There was only a small article about it in the paper, so no one really asked me about it. My own parents didn't even want to talk to me about it, not that I would have said anything to them. What ran through my mind was "how does killing another human being set them and yourself free?" Maybe it was one of those leaps of faith things that religious people are always talking about. I guess its like believing in God, there’s no proof of his existence, yet people are willing to die defending their belief in him.
I spent the next few weeks searching for the right people. I couldn't just pick anyone, it had to be the right ones. People who I knew would truly deserved and would appreciate paradise. Also, location was important. It had to be far away from the police station so that I would have the maximum amount of time to carry it out. After looking over many locations I was able to narrow it down to three locations. The first was the Glendale Nursing Home, the second was the mall, and the third was the park across the street from my house. The mall was removed almost immediately. One reason was that the police station was right next to it, also, the mall is a place where people who are more interested in material wealth gather. There were more deserving people out there. The nursing home was almost a winner. It had people who would greatly appreciate paradise, and I would be considered their "angel". Unfortunately, certain instances beyond my control forced me to choose otherwise. In order to save money, the county opted to have the mental institution moved to the building next to the nursing home. This meant that there would be armed guards all over the place (it was for the criminally insane). That left the park, which was perfect. The police station was clear across town and there were almost never any parents. These children would truly appreciate paradise. These, were my chosen ones. At that moment I knew how Oscar Shindler felt. It wasn't fair that I could save only a few. It wasn't right, no one should have to bear this responsibility…..
That night I had a dream. Actually it was more of a flashback, if anything. I was young, no more than five. I was playing with a ball in the basement of my uncle Ron and aunt Judy, the ball rolled away from me, and went into the far corner of the room. When I went to pick it up I noticed a door in the floor. Curiosity overtaking me, I went to go open it when my uncle stopped me. I awoke covered in sweat and breathing heavily......
The police said her name was Dorothy Chambers. The new owners discovered her when they were cleaning out the basement for storage. She was reported missing July 18th 1984, two years before I was born. The news devastated my family. No one could have believed my uncle was capable of this. Next to her body, or at least what hadn't decomposed over the years was a note that simply said "Don't worry, she is free. They're all free". The police found three more bodies buried under the tool shed in the back yard. Any doubt that was still in me was now gone. This was the right thing to do.
I still don't know exactly how killing a person releases them, and yourself, from bondage. I suppose it's its like a nuclear bomb, most people don't know the mechanics of it, just that it work's. It's becoming increasingly more difficult to be around people now. Going to the city isn't even an option anymore. All those chains rattling against the pavement, its almost as if their crying out to me, begging me to release them. It will all be over soon, the pain of knowing will go away and I will have saved innocent children from eternal damnation. This is my only solace.
My father and late uncle were avid hunters and gun collectors, so finding a means to free the children was obvious. There was plenty of ammunition that my father stored in his closet. The guns on the other hand were kept under heavy lock. This was actually a blessing in disguise, because it brought me to what I have with me right now. When my uncle passed away he gave my father his prized elephant gun, it even had bullets to go along with it. I wouldn't call them bullets as much as I would call them tank shells, these things were huge. The best part about them wasn't their size though. These were miniature bombs. Back when hunting elephants was legal, there was competition between companies to produce a quality gun and ammunition for the big game hunters. This lead to the creation of the Dulzer gun and round. This gun and ammunition is fully capable of bringing down a large target with incredible force, and all thanks to creators idea. William Dolzer but a high quality explosive in the head of the bullet so that when it hit the target, it exploded. This idea made Dolzer incredibly rich, until people realized that you didn't just have to use the gun for elephants. Governments around the world banned production of the gun and ammunition. At first, the gun was kept in a glass container above the fireplace in the living room. Whenever we had company over, my father would show off the gun and tell of its rich history. After the news broke though, my father felt ashamed by it. He was split, he admired the rich craftsmanship, but at the same time it reminded him of his brother-in-law and the "atrocity" he committed.
I wish I could have told my father the truth, but he never would have believed me. It wasn't fair that my uncle and people like him are labeled monsters. They are heroes, putting themselves in danger to help people. If he had been caught before he freed that girl, then all those other people then him, and all those other people he helped would be were my aunt is right now and for the rest of eternity. He was a savior to those people, and now, so will I.....
Comments?Critiques?
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