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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Teens
- Theme: Action & Adventure
- Subject: Revenge / Poetic Justice / Karma
- Published: 10/01/2012
Do you ever get that feeling? You know that feeling. That unnerving sense of being Followed? The watching. Waiting. Well, Sam Parker has that feeling.
Prologue
A few weeks ago, there was this day. I was walking up to the playing field when the sun was rising. Mesmerising. Like you do sometimes, and possibly I was tired, or maybe, just being pure lazy, I don’t know- it doesn’t matter. Well, the point is, I sat down on one of those hard timber benches that have people’s names engraved on them, dead people, dead people who probably used to sit there before you did, maybe before you were even born. Just sitting there, staring into open space. I wasn’t doing anything as such, wasn’t even thinking about anything. Watching the ducks, mostly, as far as I can remember. I saw some people I knew, strolling along, maybe holding hands. I wasn’t looking; it aint’ nothing to do with me whether they were holding hands or not. Quite frankly I couldn’t give a damn- but I pretty much ignored them. Like usual. People are glorified in my view. Nothing like ducks, I mean, how can a duck ever upset you? Ducks don’t scowl at you like you’re an utter freak, or say horrible things, or ask you questions they don’t even want the answer to; they just ask you to pass time by. Ducks just hang out with each other and have a good time, like I used to do. Until it happened. Until they both came along. Until those utter low-lives of society interfered in my life. But I’d have retribution. My dark side would return…
Being happy wasn’t possible for me. Everything in my existence had changed when it happened. When they entered it. They’re both bastards who ruined my life, particularly him, and I was intent to ruin theirs but with more purpose, more thought, more power. At times I’d sit down and think, think about nothing. I’d just sit there and think horrible things about them, sick twisted things about them, evil thoughts, but the thing is I actually wanted to follow them through and hurt them in as many ways as possible. Mentally hurt them, physically kill them; psychologically manipulate them into thinking they were nothing in the world, nothing at all, just wasted energy and a waste of oxygen. I enjoy making people suffer, it’s a game. Yes, it’s a sick, twisted game, but inside my head its fun and I thoroughly enjoy it. As my dad always told me; revenge is sweet and a person’s history can come back to haunt them. Their past would come back with a vengeance and the amusing thing is they wouldn’t even know it.
They had always irritated me. Since the first time I saw them together, him, holding her hand, kissing her soft, cloud like lips. It should have been me. It could have been me. But it wasn’t and that’s what hurt. Knowing that just days before, she met me and we shared two minutes together, staring into each other’s loved-up eyes, just about to lock lips (my heart beating faster than the bullet train on the Japanese expressway), and then… he strolled in looking smug and ruined it all, taking her beauty away from me. It felt like my heart had been swallowed, chewed and then spat on by some trampy old man. From that moment onwards it all changed; for me, for her, for him. My only chance of being with her was torn into millions of tiny particles which would float out of the atmosphere like a balloon filled with helium and along with that I ironically felt like that same balloon like I’d lost all my inner soul and everything had left my body, left this world and then, like a piano falling from the dark, misty sky, a new me entered my body. But this new me was different. The previous me was full of life, bubbly and with many friends. However, this new me was dark, psychopathic and psychologically unstable; when anyone looked at me they would feel my inner anger and would just leave me alone, knowing if they said the wrong thing I’d physically impair them to the state in which they’d be struggling for breath, choking on their thick, gloopy vomit, their heart stopping as I stabbed them with a sharp pointed butchers knife, tearing through their thin flaky layers of skin until there’s nothing left but me feeling dominant.
* * * * * *
Honestly, from the bottom of my hollow, bleeding heart, I believe that he knows I’m after him, he knows I’m going to get him and more than anything in the world he knows I’m going to kill him and make him die a slow, painful death. He knows I’ll do that to him.
It’s just a matter of time.
The Beginning of the end
It was time. It had to be finished. It was time for me to end what they, he, had started and more importantly, it was personal. We had not spoken, not looked at each other and not even communicated via social networking. He knew why, I knew why and both our families knew why and we all knew we’d never, ever talk to each other again. Ever. I’ve always believed in forgiveness but when something life shattering happens to you individually you then realise how tough it really is to forgive someone who has basically ripped his way into your body, taken your soul, stamped on it then ripped it apart. If you were in that position you’d realise how I feel every day of my life, when I wake up in the morning and when I go to bed at night. The thing is though; you don’t know how I feel. Do you?
My life from the second my mother gave birth to me was going to be like the chalk to the cheese of an ordinary child’s life. I wouldn’t think like a normal child and I wouldn’t act like a normal child. I was different. Abnormal. Cast out from an everyday society just because I wasn’t the same. My whole life was different to everyone else’s and would be for the rest of my miserable, dark, gloomy days. People didn’t seem to understand the way I thought, the way I would grow to think or the way I would perceive things.
It’s just like ducks and other animals; it’s truly amazing how they’ve adapted over the last few hundred thousand years. Evolution is a funny thing- how one species can mutate into different breeds, different minds, and different personalities. Like humans. Like ducks. We’re all people, some good, and some bad. Some like me; hard to define. Dark. Psychotic. Like a panther. I’ll let you decide about Sam Parker. The other thing that gets to me is time. People don’t see time as important; the only time it’s important is if their dinner is ready or they’ve got some sort of appointment. But time is more than that, as I realised when I was at the park, focusing on the church tower and the clock which, ironically at the same time seemed to be staring at me, ticking away. Every second that passed would be another second of my pointless life wasted. Time is the utmost important part of every human’s life, dictating virtually everything in our short lives but we as the human race seem to be more bothered about money, drugs, sex, rock ’n’ roll. In my mind time is my ruler. When I die, when your friend dies, when a member of your family dies, it’s down to time. Their time had run out and so will Sam Parker’s. It’s just a matter of time…
Sitting Duck(Henry Gaddas)
Do you ever get that feeling? You know that feeling. That unnerving sense of being Followed? The watching. Waiting. Well, Sam Parker has that feeling.
Prologue
A few weeks ago, there was this day. I was walking up to the playing field when the sun was rising. Mesmerising. Like you do sometimes, and possibly I was tired, or maybe, just being pure lazy, I don’t know- it doesn’t matter. Well, the point is, I sat down on one of those hard timber benches that have people’s names engraved on them, dead people, dead people who probably used to sit there before you did, maybe before you were even born. Just sitting there, staring into open space. I wasn’t doing anything as such, wasn’t even thinking about anything. Watching the ducks, mostly, as far as I can remember. I saw some people I knew, strolling along, maybe holding hands. I wasn’t looking; it aint’ nothing to do with me whether they were holding hands or not. Quite frankly I couldn’t give a damn- but I pretty much ignored them. Like usual. People are glorified in my view. Nothing like ducks, I mean, how can a duck ever upset you? Ducks don’t scowl at you like you’re an utter freak, or say horrible things, or ask you questions they don’t even want the answer to; they just ask you to pass time by. Ducks just hang out with each other and have a good time, like I used to do. Until it happened. Until they both came along. Until those utter low-lives of society interfered in my life. But I’d have retribution. My dark side would return…
Being happy wasn’t possible for me. Everything in my existence had changed when it happened. When they entered it. They’re both bastards who ruined my life, particularly him, and I was intent to ruin theirs but with more purpose, more thought, more power. At times I’d sit down and think, think about nothing. I’d just sit there and think horrible things about them, sick twisted things about them, evil thoughts, but the thing is I actually wanted to follow them through and hurt them in as many ways as possible. Mentally hurt them, physically kill them; psychologically manipulate them into thinking they were nothing in the world, nothing at all, just wasted energy and a waste of oxygen. I enjoy making people suffer, it’s a game. Yes, it’s a sick, twisted game, but inside my head its fun and I thoroughly enjoy it. As my dad always told me; revenge is sweet and a person’s history can come back to haunt them. Their past would come back with a vengeance and the amusing thing is they wouldn’t even know it.
They had always irritated me. Since the first time I saw them together, him, holding her hand, kissing her soft, cloud like lips. It should have been me. It could have been me. But it wasn’t and that’s what hurt. Knowing that just days before, she met me and we shared two minutes together, staring into each other’s loved-up eyes, just about to lock lips (my heart beating faster than the bullet train on the Japanese expressway), and then… he strolled in looking smug and ruined it all, taking her beauty away from me. It felt like my heart had been swallowed, chewed and then spat on by some trampy old man. From that moment onwards it all changed; for me, for her, for him. My only chance of being with her was torn into millions of tiny particles which would float out of the atmosphere like a balloon filled with helium and along with that I ironically felt like that same balloon like I’d lost all my inner soul and everything had left my body, left this world and then, like a piano falling from the dark, misty sky, a new me entered my body. But this new me was different. The previous me was full of life, bubbly and with many friends. However, this new me was dark, psychopathic and psychologically unstable; when anyone looked at me they would feel my inner anger and would just leave me alone, knowing if they said the wrong thing I’d physically impair them to the state in which they’d be struggling for breath, choking on their thick, gloopy vomit, their heart stopping as I stabbed them with a sharp pointed butchers knife, tearing through their thin flaky layers of skin until there’s nothing left but me feeling dominant.
* * * * * *
Honestly, from the bottom of my hollow, bleeding heart, I believe that he knows I’m after him, he knows I’m going to get him and more than anything in the world he knows I’m going to kill him and make him die a slow, painful death. He knows I’ll do that to him.
It’s just a matter of time.
The Beginning of the end
It was time. It had to be finished. It was time for me to end what they, he, had started and more importantly, it was personal. We had not spoken, not looked at each other and not even communicated via social networking. He knew why, I knew why and both our families knew why and we all knew we’d never, ever talk to each other again. Ever. I’ve always believed in forgiveness but when something life shattering happens to you individually you then realise how tough it really is to forgive someone who has basically ripped his way into your body, taken your soul, stamped on it then ripped it apart. If you were in that position you’d realise how I feel every day of my life, when I wake up in the morning and when I go to bed at night. The thing is though; you don’t know how I feel. Do you?
My life from the second my mother gave birth to me was going to be like the chalk to the cheese of an ordinary child’s life. I wouldn’t think like a normal child and I wouldn’t act like a normal child. I was different. Abnormal. Cast out from an everyday society just because I wasn’t the same. My whole life was different to everyone else’s and would be for the rest of my miserable, dark, gloomy days. People didn’t seem to understand the way I thought, the way I would grow to think or the way I would perceive things.
It’s just like ducks and other animals; it’s truly amazing how they’ve adapted over the last few hundred thousand years. Evolution is a funny thing- how one species can mutate into different breeds, different minds, and different personalities. Like humans. Like ducks. We’re all people, some good, and some bad. Some like me; hard to define. Dark. Psychotic. Like a panther. I’ll let you decide about Sam Parker. The other thing that gets to me is time. People don’t see time as important; the only time it’s important is if their dinner is ready or they’ve got some sort of appointment. But time is more than that, as I realised when I was at the park, focusing on the church tower and the clock which, ironically at the same time seemed to be staring at me, ticking away. Every second that passed would be another second of my pointless life wasted. Time is the utmost important part of every human’s life, dictating virtually everything in our short lives but we as the human race seem to be more bothered about money, drugs, sex, rock ’n’ roll. In my mind time is my ruler. When I die, when your friend dies, when a member of your family dies, it’s down to time. Their time had run out and so will Sam Parker’s. It’s just a matter of time…
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