This is the opening few pages of a short story I have written that will be available for FREE on Kindle via Amazon. I will also include a PDF version of the story for anyone else wanting to download it. The story is due to be released in it’s entirety by the 26th May 2012. I hope you enjoy this short taster.
Having reached the mature age, one begs to differ, of twenty-one I’ve spent a long time reminiscing on my past. Many hours throughout my everyday life fond memories of childhood past times creep up on me and never fail to surprise me in so many different ways. Don’t get me wrong; it’s certainly not a characteristic of mine that I use as an excuse not to maintain a strong and positive outlook on my future. However there is no denying that the memories one holds closest to heart reflect in the personality and nature of every single human being to ever walk the planet earth.
It was December in 1995, one of the coldest winters ever to be recorded. The warm homely feeling was ever more present as the open fire blazed and the hot embers peacefully dissolved to ash. Snow was falling in copious amounts as it battered the window, painfully melting on the cold frosted glass. The Christmas tree was propped up in the corner of the living room by a piece of string while the presents nestled underneath, seemingly wanting to claw their way out of the house. My father was asleep on the sofa while I gleefully played with a toy that must have had a life time surpassing the duration of the entire nineteenth century. It was Christmas for sure, but nothing like you would expect.
My names Tom by the way. There’s not a lot more that you need to know about me now, but throughout this short story you might begin to understand a little more about my personality, and he who dares might even become a close companion. Yes, companionship. Now if there was one thing that I severely lacked it was a loyal and sincere friendship built on the foundations of trust, respect and ones ability to cope with my eccentric and intolerable behaviour. However, none of this is going to happen to someone so distorted like myself, so I will continue to wish for better days. I briefly mentioned above that the Christmas of ’95 was like no other, those early years held dark memories that would even disturb the thought process of some of the worlds greatest psychiatrists; not to mention the countless nights where I have rolled around in my own sweat and sheer desperation to escape such mental torture.
Christmas eve was soon upon us as the days faded through the glorious summer into the dismal depressing season of winter. I was awoken at precisely 06:45am by the thud of my brothers foot as he seemed to drop out of the top bunk onto the fragile floor boards below. I remember this time precisely for some obscure reason, whether it was because our regimented living experience required early morning departures or because I’m just strange like that, we’ll never know.
“Can you try and be a little quieter please!”, I exclaimed rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
My brother, who’s name is Scott, was a lot older than myself. By how many years most of you are asking, well I’m afraid the really sad truth is that I do not know. With that in mind though he was my brother. A brother I seriously envied at times as his fortunate early birth meant that he had the advantage of being older than myself, but nevertheless one that I loved.
“You better get your lazy ass out of that bed and into gear boy before your father comes up here and does it for you.”, he said whilst checking out his reflection in the window. “Did you hear what I said?”
Without any further warning I was stood to attention at the end of my bed as a thunderous bang clattered the bedroom door, bringing with it half the house. The escapee that swiftly followed was similar to that of a raging bull, only instead of horns for a frightening prospect, he had a thick leather belt clutched in one hand and his dog chewed slipper in the other.
“Make your beds. Open the curtains. Pick that shit up off the floor. Get washed and ready. You have five minutes. MOVE!”, the crazed man left the room slamming the door shut behind him.
I was looking forward to personally introducing you all to my father in a more subtle and desirable manner, but like most days, you caught him in the wrong mood. This is going to sound a little contradicting of myself as you will later learn; but what right does this man have barging into my room at the crack of dawn with the props for, what could only be a steel cage wrestling match. We are living in the nineties dude, for one it is a known law that kids aren’t to be awake before 10am on a school holiday and for another I’m not picking no “shit” up off the floor. Now that kind of attitude towards my father wasn’t really acceptable at any age, let alone as a four year old. But I was a fighter, and I would never serve under any other rules apart from my own, it was my way or no way at all.