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Writer
Join Date: Dec 2005
Gender: Male
Posts: 35
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Brothers By Blood
Short, somewhat vague, and quirky. Not much thought went into this piece. I sort of improvised as I introduced the characters.
"Brothers By Blood"
When I opened the door and saw them there, I wanted to kill them. Identical to anyone careless enough to ignore distinguishing marks, the twins had been the antagonists within the place we both called home. Everything spoken without first being given their consent was always sure to get dealth with, and mother and myself would never hear the end of it. Aside from their cold disposition towards us, there was always much that was mysterious about them. Maybe that is why something extra came over me whenever their voice was released upon our air.
Standing there, with anything that may have been complimentary absent from their regard, they looked down at me, giving nothing but that familiar smirk they shared so conveniently.
"What have you done?" I asked. "What was that noise?"
That smirk faded from their faces almost perfectly in sync. "It's late, brother. Go to sleep," one of them said, then turned to walk away. The other did not follow, but instead peered into the room behind me. "You might want to stay in here and feign ignorance when they come, brother."
After they left, I shut and locked the door behind them. Considering what Jeremy had told me, I paced the room thinking about the sound I had heard prior to our meeting outside my door. I did not want to admit it, but I was sure something had happened to Mother.
"What have they done!"
I went to my dresser and opened the bottom drawer, having already succumbed to a state of rage. The gun I kept there in secrecy was buried under the unopened packages of socks I had been given every christmas, and having moved them aside, I took it.
Outside my room, bitter air hit my face that immediately summoned me to the line of sight of the front door. It wore the frame comfortably, and let no air in. I went down the stairs and looked around for the twins, and reluctantly, I looked for Mother lying motionless on the floor. Holding the gun the way they do in movies, I searched, stopping only to think about how I must have looked and whether or not I should call the police.
I called out, finally. "Mother!"
Niether she or the twins surfaced to comfort my nerves. I went to the basement door. It hung open, emitting cold air that had clearly been the source of the draft. It was dark and no sound came from beyond the stair. Down I went, slowly at first, then adrenaline rushed and sent me faster and with less grace than I would have liked. The light switch hung from overhead and I reached for it as a blind man would. Before I could find it, someone much closer already had. Light spilled from the bulb and touched all that was around it. Mother's voice erected my ears and there she was, tied to one of the chairs from the dining room.
"What are you going to do with that?" Paul asked, standing beside Mother. Jeremy was on the other side, and altogether it looked like a reinactment of a dramatic moment from a play.
Because it was always effective on TV, I pointed the gun at Paul. "What are you doing?" I managed to ask. Indicating a knife on the washing machine, Paul's hand took it and held it to Mother's throat.
"Stop!" I shouted, then pulled the trigger of the gun. It erupted with noise.
And then all was silent. Paul was sprawled out on the floor, moving only because Jeremy had gotten on his knees and began to shake him, calling out his name over and over, as if each time he'd rouse to it's music. But Paul did not respond.
"I'm calling the police." I said, "I'm calling the police." And I ran up the stairs.
I dialed the police department, and when answered, I told them, "Somebody was shot." When asked by whom, I said, "By me. Please hurry." The conversation ended, and I went to the basement stairs. The light was off, and I stood for a moment to observe the darkness. I went down the steps, and about half-way I stopped.
"Jeremy?"
No one answered. I continued down, and pulled the light switch. Paul was gone, and Jeremy too. My attention came to Mother, who suddenly wasn't making any noise at all. She was hunched over, and on the floor just shy of her feet, something red had painted the concrete.
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