Writers debate: Fiction

Chapter 3: CorneredI came home from school feeling proud of his art project. I had created a Rustic paper cliché statue of Ghandi. My project was to “Create a unique and dimensional art piece using skills learned in Art 1200, of a famous figure.” I chose Ghandi, as I had always had a deep respect for his figure. In the face of adversity, violence, and hate, Ghandi showed nothing but love to all he met. He had accomplished one of the biggest revolutions in history through non-violence motions. As I had researched him, I had always had a love for the historical figure. My statue wasn’t lifelike obviously, but I took pride in the work I did, and the accuracy of the features. After all I was only in 7the grade. I came in my home, and went straight to my parents bedroom. “ Hey mom, check out my statue! I got an A+ on-“ I stopped short as I entered the room to see my mom crying on the bed, face buried in her palms. “Mom, are you okay?” I asked, approaching her cautiously. Without looking at me she replied “I’m fine Jason. Please go to your room. Your dad is in a bad mood.” “But mom- ” I started. “Go to your room God Damn it!” She said turning to me. I almost dropped my statue in shock as I looked at her black eye. Tears were streaming down her face, as she turned back away from me and continued to cry. Emotion flooded over me; Anger, sadness, confusion. I knew who was the cause of this. I left my mother in her room, and walked back downstairs. I gulped as I prepared myself to go into the back yard, where I knew my dad would be. I opened the back door, and looked over to the saw table, where my dad was cutting a board in half, probably to fix the garage. He had busted the garage wall down last week, coming home drunk from the bar. “Dad!” I yelled trying to shout over the saw blade. He couldn't’t hear me. I screamed louder. “Dad!” He jerked nearly getting his hand caught by the blade. At the sense of heat, the blade quickly sunk back into the table, shutting the system down. My dad was angry. “What the Fvck Jason? Are you trying to get me killed you little dumb@ss?” I ignored him. “Dad why was mom’s eye black? Why is she crying?” I said accusingly. He just stared past me into the distance. Finally he looked at me and spoke, ignoring my question. “What’s that you got there, Jason?” I swallowed hard like I understood. “It’s my art project I made. I got an A+ on it today.” “Let me see it please.” He said calmly. I considered it for a moment. I approached him cautiously and handed him the statue. He looked at it for a moment, considering it. “What is this supposed to be, a dolphin?” He said, judging it. “It’s Ghandi.” I replied. He just laughed. “Huh.” Then to my horror, he turned on the saw blade. The noise was loud and horrendous. “Dad no, please don’t!” I screamed tugging at his arm. “Next time don’t interrupt me while I am working you little brat.” He spat angrily at me, as he shoved me to the ground with ease. I continued screaming as I got up. But it was too late. He had sawed through Ghandi with ease. He turned the blade off, and tossed my destroyed art project on the ground like a piece of trash. I was crying, while he just laughed. “I HATE YOU!” I screamed and lunged at him, hitting him wildly. He was big, and strong though. My punches were weak, and only irritated him more. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me up on my tippy toes, causing me to squeal in pain, and stop my pitiful attack. “Listen to me you little fvck up. You disgust me. You are weak, and always have been. You don’t do anything for me and your mother. You worthless piece of crap. I wish you were dead.” With that he let go of his grip on my hair, and smacked me hard across the face. ----------------------------------------------------------------- I woke up with a Jolt. I was sweating, and shaking. The memory/dream had me disturbed. I knew I wouldn't’t be able to go back to sleep that night. I got up out of bed, and went downstairs. I turned on the T.V. But had the volume low, as not to wake up the Talbot's. I knew I couldn't’t stay here long. I planned on leaving after one more day of re-cooperating. It was only a matter of time before I was tracked down here, it wasn’t safe. I heard a noise behind me and instantly jumped. I turned raising my fist ready to fight, before realizing it was just Reverend Talbot standing looking at me confused in his night gown. “Can’t sleep tonight son?” He said tiredly. I just shook my head, and sat back down. He joined me on the couch. “I know how that feels.” He said. “I haven’t had a good sleep in 15 years.” “What’s with that?” I asked curiously. “I’ve led a rough life, Jason. I have memories that will always be deep rooted, and will always scar me. I have changed my life around since then, but the nightmares will always be there.” He said. I was curious. “How do you deal with separating the memories from reality? From controlling you, and turning you into something you are not?” I asked. He looked as if he was watching the crappy soap opera that was on but I knew he wasn’t paying attention to it. Finally he answered. “Jason, you will have to accept that the memories will always be there. They will always hurt, and they will always be a part of who you are. But they don’t have to control you Jason. I used my experiences as a lesson. I have used them to control who I won’t become. I have turned them into as much of a positive as I can, and through it found my wife. I have also found God. My life has purpose, now, and I will fulfill it. So Jason, what is your purpose?” I had no idea how to answer. I thought about it though, for what seemed like ages. Finally I responded honestly. “ I don’t know Reverend. But I hope to find out.” “ And you will Jason. But be open to listening to it when you do.” He said wisely. I picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels. “Stop!” Reverend Talbot ordered. I did, confused. He took the remote from my hand, and went back a couple channels. It was the news. To my horror, there was a big picture of me, next to a newscaster. He turned the volume up a couple notches. The TV broadcasted: “-Stiles is still at large. Investigators have been hot on the tail of Jason Stiles, after his escape from custody at the end of his trial. What is possibly the biggest murder trial of the century, has ended with Jason Stiles being found guilty, and sentenced to death for murdering both of his parents. Shortly after the conclusion the trial, Stiles escaped, seriously injuring two police officers, and terrifying those in attendance to his trial. His lawyer, Trent Hamilton, is trying to argue for post dramatic stress dis-order, but the endeavor isn’t looking good in light of current circumstances-“ I snatched the remote from him and turned the TV off. I waited for his reaction, as I gauged my situation. I needed to get out of here, fast.