Omis
my friends were skinny
Hey I wrote another short story. Please critique if you dont mind. This story means a lot to me. Sorry about the **** formatting and junk.
Its pretty terrible upon rereading it.James Omis said:Swingers
From the sky, the event was viewed. A boy had been running through the city, carving a path wherever he went. Before its very eyes, the land was being molded to this temperamental will. Footsteps were laid in places that should never be tread. Paths were molded in places that hadn’t been seen for so long. Eventually his path terminated in the land of childhood; the park of his youth.
Slowly, but with purpose, he moved himself over to a swing set. As soon as he plunked himself down on the swing, the clouds were disemboweled and a great flood came over the land.
“How about that weather?” Without warning, an old man made his stance known. His face was worn with the sad burden of knowledge and his body hung with the sorrowful aura of forced acceptance.
“The ****!”
“Cool your mouth you leech. I just want me a nice talk about the weather. So I say again: How about that weather?”
“You psycho or something?”
“Well obviously you don’t want to talk about those waterworks flowin for them tiny eyes of yours. I just wanted to help me out a little youth and show him out on his way.”
“I don’t want your help, you freak. Just back away from me.”
“You youth are quite the trouble makers.”
“You don’t understand. No one does…”
“I understand how hot it is. That sun is really shining up in the sky. Look how beautiful that thing is. So persistent; I love the sun. Is there anything better than those whom never give up?”
“Those who never let you down.”
“Well you must have yourself some pretty low expectations on ya if you never get disappointed. I expect everything for myself, not others, and that’s why I don’t get upset when no one adheres to my will. I'm just an old man after all.”
“And an old letch too. Why are you hanging out in a kiddy park anyway? You got yourself a voyeur eye?”
“I'm a watcher, if that is what you mean. I just want to hang out and talk about the weather with someone. I was rather confused myself when I saw you splitting the sunny skies in favour of your dark waters. No need to drown, my boy.”
“The hell do you know about my ****? You just back right on off. What do you do for a living? Act like a little creep all the time?”
“I'm fashion life jackets for a living.”
“So we have a wannabe Frost on our hands? How queer.”
“No ‘spect. Sickening.”
For a few moments, it seemed as the sun was not able to feel the light. It hid for some time behind thousands a layers of think wispy clouds. Nary a single ray poked its way out of the barrier. When one valiant ray decided to be bold, a dark cloud reached out and wrung its neck into oblivion. All that would be left was the shattered remains of hope. Terror had risen.
“I happen to notice that you have blood on your hands.” A beam pierced down and entered the old man’s head.
“What does it matter to you if I have blood on my
hands! I'm my own man.”
“Oh ho ho I love the youth. You guys are such little punks and disrespectful to boot. Don’t you know how to talk to an old man? My bones are withered and my skin hangs off of me like a cloak; I don’t wish to hear your profanities.”
“I didn’t ask you to anyway you old coot. I thought that you were an ok guy with whom I could chill, but now your spewing off all this bull**** at me. I don’t want your crap nor do I need it. I'm leaving.”
“Hold your horses, chile’. No need to get all uppity and upset. Sit yourself on down, boy. Stay a while.”
“Fine. Just don’t start jabbering about time gone by and drooling like all the others do.”
“Time has gone by.”
“No ****.”
The sun leered down oppressively at the two men for quite some time. It lay there in the sky capriciously deciding who should witness its impressive might. For a while, it was a general location. It had been boasting in some typically cold local, perhaps Canada or Sweden. Not now. Right now the sun was shining directly upon the two men and only upon the two men.
“Hot.”
“Yep.”
The rays intensified and compressed into a pinprick. This little pinprick contained only the energy a being as tyrannical as the sun could produce. And, as it would, the pinprick fell upon the two men.
“Hotter”
“Yep.”
“Do you even understand what blood is?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Do you understand what blood is? It’s as simple as that.”
“Well of course. I'm not senile like you.”
“They say that the insane are the only right ones-“
“Horse shi-“
“and that they are like this because they understand life. They understand how disgusting and vile this world is and they want no part in it. Their only escape is to take themselves off the world and lock themselves in the privacy of their minds.”
“That’s dumb. Stupid hags are just trying to make crap excuses for why they aren’t worth anything anymore.”
“You are the ignorant one, chile’. Ain’t got no ‘spect for your elders. Got a dirty potty mouth. Ain’t not clue what blood is. You youngsters sicken me.”
“At least I'm not an old coot on my death bed. For the record, I do know what blood is. Why else would I have it on my hands?”
“You make think you know what blood is but do you understand what blood is?”
“What’chou mean?”
“It seems like no kids your age understand what blood is. Blood is not just something that delivers oxygen. Those scientists have got it all wrong. Blood does not maintain life; blood is life. That beautiful smile you see on a pretty lady or that feeling of satisfaction after conquest; that is what blood is. Blood is life. If you had any clue, you wouldn’t have all that blood on your hands.”
“You aint so hot yourself! I bet you’ve spilt some in your time. Do you have blood on your hands?”
“I have had it and I so deeply wish that I hadn’t. You see boy when you get older things change. I don’t have no vigor in my step and not a lick of libido in my body. I ain’t got no work and I definitely ain’t got no duty. Things change with time and time, well, it just keeps on tickin’. When you get older, you understand these things. I don’t have any more blood on my hands, but I do have a wealth of it. All the blood is in my heart now. I have so much more blood than you could ever imagine. What about you boy? Do you have any of that blood in your heart?”
“I don’t think so…”
“Well, why not? Holding blood in your hands is only good for the moment. After a while you spill some and, before you know it, it’s all gone. The heart is the perfect container. You can borrow all of life’s blood in there and you keep it. It don’t go to waste and you don’t lose any of it either. I reckon you wouldn’t have been runnin’ out here if you had thought of that first.”
“I wish I could, but I don’t think I can. My hands are large enough for me to ignore my heart.”
“The heart can never be ignored. The life must carry on.”
“I’ll try.”
“It is getting dimmer.”
“What?”
“The light is getting dimmer. Seems like the sun has finally decided to stop bullying two blokes like us.”
“It really is gorgeous.”
“I love being out here. The way the earth feels on a quiet day is just beautiful to me. Hearing the soft pitter patter of feet in the distance, the slick plop of dew falling off of a leaf, or even the muffled sounds of the city, it is love to me. This still serenity is my love now that all has left me.”
“I’m sorry to have bothered you, old man. I didn’t know that this place meant so much to you.”
“Does it mean anything to you?”
“I come down here when I have no one else. You could say I'm a frequent flier of the blues train.”
“I reckon you could say the same ‘bout me.”
“Well **** man. I didn’t know that you come here lots too. Are you lurking in the shadows like a predator or something like that? How come I never saw you here before?”
“Not many are able to tell when I'm here or not.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“You like it quiet?”
“It is better that way. Listen closely and you will hear so much. After it rains over the land, you can hear the hurried sounds of life trying to reassemble things. After a fire, there is that sickly quiet of life disturbed. After a fight, you hear that relaxed sigh of relieved tension. I love those sounds but I fear that they are going to die out. People no longer take the time to listen for them and before long they are going to be extinct. It is the saddest feeling to know that your most loved possession shall die out and you can’t save it.”
“Why can’t you save it? Spread the word and I'm sure some people will know about it.”
“I wish I could, but the people don’t understand it. I’ve tried so hard throughout my past years to let the world know; I'm only one man though.”
“Settle for saving one person. I'm sure that would partially put your heart at rest.”
“Open up your ears.”
“What?”
“Open up your throat?”
“What you trippin’ on?”
“Let it all flow in. Let yourself be one with the area and let everything just be. Just melt and rebuild yourself with your surroundings. Absorb a part of the nature and let yourself be more pure. Drink in the air and ascend. Listen to the ambience and diffuse. What do you feel?”
“I feel…better. Do you hear that?”
“I can only here what is inside me. This, chile’, is something for only you to feel. What is it telling you to do?”
“I hear a wailing noise. It doesn’t really seem like it wants to be heard though. It barely is audible and the way it slowly repeats itself every few seconds kinda makes me feel like it knows what it is like to not be cared for. Ignorance seems to be a part of this noise’s life and its pretty low maintenance. It kinda sounds like a siren.”
Suddenly, a shadow appeared. It brandished its rapier and cut its way through the waning light. It was close to being masked but this shadow was determined to be spotted. It grew and grew until it finally stood valiant and defiant. The shadow grew from the heart and could finally stand on its own.
“Where you going, my boy?”
“I need to go wash my hands.”
