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|08-22-2009, 06:09 PM||#1|
A quick read or two
Marf, this thread isn't really about me at all, so it's not much of a profile or a blog. But I guess this board felt like the best place to post some of my stories compared to the rest of the boards in this forum.
I've been writing short stories on rare occasion ever since I was about 15 (5 years ago). By rare occasion, I mean about 1 story a year X3 I currently have 5 short stories finished, 4 of which are available to anyone who wants to read them, and 1 which is private and only for close friends' eyes, what with it being a sort of unique autobiography and all =3 *wags* Of the 4 public stories, I'm proud of 3 of them, and felt like sharing them here. I dunno if you guys would be interested in reading all of them, so I'll post one here first. If you enjoy it and want to read more, just ask!
Without further ado, here is the second story I wrote. I was 16 when I wrote this, so it's pretty old, and has some inconsistencies here and there. Still, I'm proud of all of the stories I've written as I grew up, and I hope you all enjoy it =3
EDIT: Oh, and I wasn't sure if it was ok or not, so I blanked out the swear words in this story.
Jonas Konaze walked out of the Huntech Corporation of Hayasha, Japan with a smirk on his face. With the press of a button on a remote he kept in his trench coat, he would gain two hundred-thousand dollars. As he walked away from the building at a brisk pace, he began to think of all the people in the building, all the lives to be lost, with his finger steady on the button. But as soon as the company CEO crossed his mind, his finger pressed down, and the tower-like building was reduced to rubble in mere seconds. Jonas felt somewhat bad for the deaths and injuries of all the people nearby, but what could he do about it? After all, he was only in this business for the money.
In a trailer park a few hours away from Hayasha, Jonas met up with a snobby little man carrying two briefcases. The man and Jonas retreated into a nearby unlocked trailer. "Alright, Mr. Konaze, here's da money". The man handed Jonas one of the briefcases, and Jonas opened it and ruffled through the wads of bills to make sure he wasn't being cheated. When he was satisfied, he closed the suitcase and put it at his side. "What's the other one for", Jonas asked, "New job?" "Of course", the snobby man replied, and proceeded to open it up. Inside was a picture of a man and some files with classified personal information. "We got us a client that's willin' ta pay five hundred-thousand dollahs fo' this sap ta hit da hay!"
Jonas was shocked, though he did not show it. As he looked at the picture, he knew he recognized the man, but could not be sure from where. He accepted the job, took hold of the second briefcase with the files and the picture, and set out to murder the man. He couldn't bring himself to look at the classified personal files until he was sure of who this familiar person was.
Jonas headed for his home, which was a room in a small, run-down motel in a city nearby Hayasha. As he discarded the briefcases, the second one opened up as it clattered to the floor. Jonas was once again struck with shock from the face on the picture. He was certain that he knew the man, but couldn't remember for the life of him who the man was.
Jonas came back to his senses and turned away from the picture to think. As he did, he prepared his weapon of choice; his muted sniper rifle. Looking at the rifle, prepared for storage, convinced Jonas that it was stupid to try and guess who the man was when five hundred-thousand dollars were at stake if he killed the wrong person.
He picked up the files, took nothing more than a quick glance, and dropped the papers in utter shock. He ran from the room to the sleazy motel bar and ordered the heaviest, wildest drink three times over. He couldn't bear what he saw while still sober.
Laying on the ground in Jonas's room were the dropped papers, the first one having "James P. Konaze" written along the top. The man to be killed was Jonas's own father.
When Jonas woke up the next morning, he concealed his weapon, donned his trench coat, grabbed the briefcase and headed for a phone booth to call a taxi. On the way, he thought to himself of his past, which he vaguely remembered.
"But dad! I didn't do it!" I don't know-"
"Shut up! You have my watch! You're a lying, thieving little s***."
"No dad! I'm not! I didn't-"
"Oh yeah? You didn't take it? Well I know the b***h didn't take it cause she's lying on the bed admiring her new black eye."
"Dad! N-No! Don't!"
Jonas realized suddenly that he was standing in a phone booth and quietly sobbing to himself. He recollected his composure and called a taxi, letting the driver know that it would be a long ride. When the cab arrived, Jonas got in and tried to clear his mind of his past; to ignore the lurking memories of his horrible childhood.
It wasn't working.
As the taxi drove down the highway, Jonas continued to silently recollect his young age in his head. He had never really thought about his childhood before, and it almost felt like a different life from the one he had now. Most of his memories were painful, but he could scarcely remember one thing, one MAJOR thing that had happened to him, which changed his life forever.
"Hey, boy! Go into my closet and grab me a cigar and a beer".
"Dad, I'm 16. Don't call me a boy".
"You watch what you say to me, boy! Get outta here before I hafta beat you again".
Jonas went to the closet.
"That old f****r thinks I'm a slave. God... I wanna blast his-".
A box fell from the top closet shelf onto the floor near Jonas' feet.
"So that's where he keeps this crap. Why does he put it up so high?"
Jonas opened the box and found a loaded handgun inside.
"Jonas! What's taking so long?"
"Jonas! What the f*** are you up to!?"
James headed for the closet and saw Jonas inside, holding the handgun and looking at it in shock.
"Jonas... give that... to me now".
"No. Get away from me".
"I'm gunna beat you silly you little sh-"
Jonas remembered the sirens, the shouting, and he remembered watching his dad being taken away on a stretcher. He also remembered with a shudder of when the police took him to a home for parent-less children, for his mother was in no condition to care for him. He went into a mad frenzy when he found out that his dad would live. The shot missed all important organs and did nothing more than pierce the skin.
Jonas knew that that day was when he learned that only power and people who use it can accomplish anything in this world. He had power when he held the gun, but he didn't use it properly, and merely took his dad out of his life, but not out of his soul. That was why Jonas became a hit man, an assassin, a killer. It was all he learned how to do to live.
His father taught him that.
The taxi finally stopped in the neighborhood Jonas was so familiar to. He paid the driver and headed slowly down the clean, well-kept streets. He knew exactly where he was in relation to his father's house, because he had spent much time out of the house on the occasion that he was thrown out for a night or two.
Jonas walked by a familiar neighborhood playground, and watched as children and their parents played together on the swings and slides. He went atop a hill surrounded by trees, a hill which he had spent much of his time at, alone and secluded. He remembered it to be a quiet place where no one could see him or hear him as he let out his sorrows through violent fits of rage and uncontrollable sobbing. It was the only place he felt truly safe from his father.
Since he knew that the trees around the hill provided a shield from sight and muffled the sounds he made, Jonas decided to perform some routine maintenance on his muted sniper rifle, to make sure it was ready for optimal performance. He prepared it and swung it around on its stand to test its stability, and as he did, the scope fell onto a window, showing through it the house of his past.
His father was right inside the cross hairs.
As Jonas sat there, with his father in his aim, he realized that everything he had ever been doing was because of this man. His life as an assassin, his not having any friends, and his terrible attitude towards life and living it. His father had psychologically cursed him from childhood, and it didn't go away. Jonas finally relaxed for a moment and convinced himself that there was only one way to be happy. He prepared the gun, put his finger on the trigger, and fired.
Nobody heard the gunshot, since it was silenced and amongst so many trees. However, Jonas was found on his hill, and had to be taken away. A man and his son happened to be nearby when the bullet was fired, and they walked in on Jonas a few seconds after he had fired the gun. He didn't put up a fight, and let them take him away. After all, it's hard to put up any sort of a struggle when you're dead. Jonas' own bullet pierced into his flesh, silencing him for eternity. He had committed suicide.
Jonas' mother was most upset when she heard that James Konaze wasn't dead. She immediately hired someone new, to get the job done right. She didn't care who they were; All she cared about was if they would be bribed by her five hundred-thousand. After all, assassins are only in the business for the money, right?
|08-22-2009, 06:14 PM||#3|
|08-22-2009, 06:19 PM||#4|
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