Woke up, wrote a dark short story. Would love to hear what you think -- "The Killing Field"
2 replies, posted
We were not normal children. Looking back, I see that now. I mean, no child is truly "normal", per-se, but we had to be the least normal of them all. Like any children, we made our own game. And, like any good made-up game, we had a special place for it too.
The game itself did not have a name. The place did, however. We called it "The Killing Field". The Killing Field was true to it's name; it was a small field area that we found whilst exploring one day. Immediately, we went about exploring it, and setting up camp. It was in this field that the game was introduced. The rules were simple, if I remember correctly, "kill or be killed. "
At this point, I should mention who "we" were. It was me, David, Brian, and Dan. We had a pretty nice little clique. We weren't the "cool" kids, and we weren't the "nerdy" kids -- we just "were". Eventually, we all moved away, at some point or another, Brian first, David second, and then Dan. Eventually I moved away too, forgetting all about the Killing Field.
Before my small town was removed from the map altogether, I decided to visit, one last time. Everything was pretty much how I remembered it; the little mom and pop stores, Hank's Diner, everything from my childhood was still standing, surprisingly. I made my way to my house, taking side-streets and main-roads that I could walk blindfolded without even trying. One last corner and I could see it, the squat little house I remembered so well from my childhood. It was older now, more derelict looking, but I could still tell that it was the house that I knew as a child.
As soon as I reached the house, a dull pain started in the back of my neck. Rubbing my neck gingerly, I walked up the front steps and knocked on the door. My house did have a doorbell, but I didn't feel it was right to ring it. No sooner had I knocked, the door creaked open, revealing the dark front hall. It smelled old, as in dusky, musky mold. Clearly, no one had lived in my little abode for quite some time.
I stepped in, as quietly as I could, peering around. Nothing of interest in the living room, or the dining room. I started up the stairs, following my memories of where things had been and made a beeline for what had been my room. The dull pain began to throb. Wincing, I walked into the room, feeling utter nonstalgia. I remembered that I had kept a secret box in the floorboards that only I knew about. When I went off to college and started my own life, I had completely forgotten about my box. "Surely the last occupants must have found it..." I thought to myself. But, I could not contain my curiousity. I walked over to my spot, and bent down. I found the burl in the old wood that doubled as a knob, and pulling it, the pain in my neck began to throb even more intensely. It felt as if I was about to black out, the pain was so intense. But, much to my surprise, there was the box. I hefted it out and flipped it open, sifting through the contents immediately. I pocketed an old faded picture of me, David, Brian, and Dan, smiling goofy smiles and wearing swim trunks. There wasn't much else in there except for a scrap of paper. "It's real." it read. I didn't think much of that paper as I exited the house, feeling a mixture of pain (my neck) and elation. There was one last place I wanted to visit -- The Killing Field.
I knew where to start, but finding exactly where it was, was a whole different story. At one point, I thought I was lost, but then I stumbled out from a copse of trees and thicket, and there it was, The Killing Field.
Nothing seemed immediately off about these old stomping grounds, and it felt great, wandering around, reliving our greatest "adventures". Then I saw them, three makeshift crosses made out of branches, stuck into the ground, in a row. Ringing began in my ears, soft at first, but growing louder by the second. Still, I chuckled at our childhood imagination. Wandering over to them, I was stopped dead in my tracks, beneath each of the crosses was a small mound. Each about the size of a child. The pain in my neck grew to the point where I had to bite my lip to keep myself from screaming in pain. The ringing in my ears was a full-fledged siren. I knelt down in front of the crosses. The first cross read "Brian". The next, "David". And finally, "Dan". Looking at these crosses, my memories returned to me, memories I had lost when I was struck by that metal baseball bat. My friends hadn't moved away; they went missing. "It's real." The game was real, and I was the winner.
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Please, tell me what you guys think! :)
Twist was a bit predictable but that's probably just due to my wandering eyes.
It's not too bad for something that short, but work on separating into paragraphs next time, makes things look a lot less messy.
[QUOTE=VietRooster2;45649262]Twist was a bit predictable but that's probably just due to my wandering eyes.
It's not too bad for something that short, but work on separating into paragraphs next time, makes things look a lot less messy.[/QUOTE]
Thanks for the feedback! I'll edit it right now so it's easier on the eyes. :)
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