Originally Posted by Diverse

It's late, and the house is empty.Then Cut "then" I hear your footsteps as you stagger down the hall. I turn my music down, knowing you are about to scream. I hear you twist the doorknob, straining against the lock, banging on the door. I don't answer. I just turn my music down. You bang again, and yell for me to open the door. I sigh, pushing myself out of my chair, moving towards the door. Opening the door I witness you standing there, a bottle of malt liquor in your hand.

Okay, let me try this for you, love.

Its late, but I hear your footsteps clanging down the hallway, resounding ghosts through an empty house. I tune down my music, expecting your scream. I can hear the quiet turning of the brass doorknob, but I beg no entrance is meritted. Volume, volume. I can hear that voice, that damnable voice, shouting at me, roaring to open this damned door, open it. Resigned, I open the door, and meet your bludgeoned face, as mindless and hopeless as a rat's.

Unbalanced you hold onto the doorway as I imagine you letting go, being out of my life forever. You take one last guzzle before you talk, me pretending to give a crap. I don't hear a word being said, because it is hard to concentrate when a grown man is spraying me with his breath. I nod, raising an eyebrow at you as you take another sip. You ask me what I am listening to, what's that bullshit blasting on the stereo. I roll my eyes, telling you the song for the hundredth time in my life. You simply raise an eyebrow, asking me who sings it. I tell you, once again, who it was by, who all the songs I listen to are by. You look at me confused, swaying in the hall. You take another sip, I sniff the air. You ask me is there a problem. I tell you the kitchen is on fire.

You fall for it every time.

I expect you to return, and that you do. You have a fresh bottle of malt liquor in your hand, the top already off. I stare at you with disgust as you take a long guzzle, and you smile at me. Your speech is slurred;and I take another deep sigh, getting comfortable. I prepare to hear thehour long speech you give me every single night. I mock you as I turn my back, nodding as if I understand. I sit with much irk, you continuing to ramble on with your 'One day' speech. I laugh at all the parts you laugh about, as if I really care. I counter-talk, wasting my time, but you realize nothing, and I ask you questions just to get you out of my room faster. I deal with this every night. I miss the old you, but I am afraid to tell you. This dependent stranger in my house, the same stranger who ran Ma away, but I won't let you run me away. I hide your liquor; you fuss at me, telling me to give it back. You threaten to beat me, I threaten to beat you back. You ramble on, slamming your door. I throw the bottle away, andyou slap me across the face. I give you a glare, as you turnback, continuing on to your resting place.

The morning has come, you don't even remember the night before. I smile, saying 'Hi dad'. This is my regular routine. You smile back, rubbing your head. You wince at the pain, telling me you hate to drink. But I can't tell. I nod, saying I understand.

I hear your footsteps, I turn the music down. I sit through your speech, and you ramble until you walk out of my room. I hide your liquor, you slap me in the face. You smile, saying good-morning. I smile back, wishing death upon you.

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A few notes:

I honestly found it almost impossible to strain my brain to place something as a monolouge... It does switch from night to day soon, but that's just the way I am I guess. I thought about getting into his dream he had, but I have to take time to put that together. But other than that, I think you guys made this story even better =]

Originally Posted by German Voodoo

Originally Posted by Diverse

Thank you much, Voodoo... and now.. I am going to glare 'Voodoo' by Godsmack..

Now... take a look at this... your version of this short story..

Its late, and house feels empty, despite the people sucking on fate inside of it. I enjoy music to relax, and so painless am I now that I stroll my head back, roll my shoulderblades, sigh with the air whistling through my teeth. A loud knock on my door, rival to Zeus, alerts my peaceful stupor. 'Ugh, not again, not again, why won't he STOPPPP...' I turn the music playing from my stereo louder. Another knock disturbes the peace. I open the door, face the man in shallow state. i look him over, weeping internally. In his hand is a 40 Ounce.
Unbalanced you hold onto the doorway. I imagine you letting go, being out of my life forever. You take a final swig, preparing to speak, or mutter, whichever the drunkard's vernacular. I don't hear a word being said, because it is hard to concentrate when a grown man is spraying me with his breath. I nod, and you take another sip, raising an awkward eyebrow at you. You ask me what I am listening to, what's that 'bullshit‘ is liberating on the stereo. I roll my eyes, telling you the song for the hundredth time in my life. You simply raise an eyebrow, asking me who sings it. I tell you, once again, for the hundredth time who it was by, who all the songs I listen to are by. You look at me, confused, swaying in the hall. You take another sip, I sniff the air. You ask me is there a problem. I tell you the kitchen is on fire.

You fall for it every time.

I expect you to return, and that you do. You have a fresh bottle of malt liquor in your hand, the top already off. You take a long guzzle, and you smile at me. Your speech is slurred; I take another deep sigh, getting comfortable. I prepare to hear the hour long speech you give me every single night. I mock you as I turn my back, nodding as if I understand. I sit as you continue to ramble on with your 'One day' speech. I laugh at all the parts you laugh about, as if I really care. I provide counter play to your words, interest feigned, wasting my time, but you realize nothing as I ask you questions just to get you out of my room faster. I deal with this every night. I miss the old you, the good you, not this advent of horrors, this dependent stranger in my house. You ran Ma away, but I won't let you run me away. I hide your liquor; you fuss at me, telling me to give it back. You threaten to beat me, I threaten to beat you back. You ramble on, slamming your door. I throw the bottle away, you slap me across the face. I give you a glare, and you turn your back to your resting place.

Too fast, from night to morning. Add some more internal monologue

The morning has come, you don't even remember the night before. I smile, saying 'Hi dad'. This is my regular routine. You smile back, rubbing your head. You wince at the pain, telling me you hate to drink. But I can't tell. I nod, saying I understand.

I hear your footsteps, I turn the music down. I sit through your speech, and you ramble until you walk out of my room. I hide your liquor, you slap me in the face. You smile, saying good-morning. I smile back, wishing death upon you.

Originally Posted by German Voodoo