The Pursuit of Misery - Rewrite

A much better delivery of an old story of mine.

Hey everyone! It's me again. You do remember me, right? The man you've seen walkin' around town time and again? Y'know, the guy always staring at the floor, sometimes playing a game of solitaire kickball with a pebble that crossed my path? Maybe you saw me lurking the corner chair waiting on someone to bother to come talk to me and ask me how I was doing. Maybe I'm the man whose tears are piercing through the walls in the midst of night. Yeah, you remember me now, don't you?

Great! I've always wanted to be remembered in some way, granted...being remembered like this isn't all too preferable...but I'll take what I can get! It's kinda painful to be forgotten. Nothing else in life speaks so loudly about someone lacking an impact than the man being forgotten. Some may argue that being remembered in infamy is better than being forgotten in time. At least the infamous are immortalized...the forgotten simply die. Oh well, I guess I don't really have to worry about being forgotten now, right? I have you!

Speaking of you, I have taken an issue with you slightly. Whilst lurking in my corner; or when walking down the sidewalk; or even through the walls that my cries cracked through, I've heard you mock me. You thought you were far enough behind my back that I couldn't hear, but I did. You turn to the friend you are lucky enough to have and laugh at me for being so 'unsocial'.

You see, I don't have any issue with a truthful insult. If someone is stupid, then feel free to call them stupid. If someone is nonathletic, call them nonathletic...and so on. You don't have to insult them, but, if you are, at least make it truthful or informed. Which is precisely what I wish to do with you: to inform you " of how I became this way.

The series of events that led to this began many years ago, long before I met any of you or any of you knew who I was. It began about 18 years ago. I was just a tad over 14 years old at the time " much too young to have life place its harsh branding seal of pain on my life. Yes, this long ago, very long, long ago. Please understand " before the events I am about to tell you, I was much like any other happy, joyous child: clueless of life's cruelties, blind of the hate pointed at competitors, and naïve of life's little tricks and games.

So let's begin, shall we? Very well:

As I said before, this story takes place when I was 14 years old " 18 years ago. My strongest ambition at the time was to be a Medical Doctor. I always loved being able to help people. I wanted to make everyone happy, keep everyone safe. I took it upon myself to care for anyone in trouble " anyone in pain. I would have rather had me be in pain or in death's cross hairs than someone I cared for " it's just who I was.

My social standing at school was decent, I suppose. I wasn't a 'popular' or anything, but I had a good select group of friends. Of all my friends, there was one that had a special place in my heart " Laura. I didn't understand what it was, but she seemed special beyond compare. She was beautiful, funny, smart, caring " you couldn't find someone better. She and I were close-knit. Inseparable, my friends and parents would joke. We never dated " we agreed we'd rather be best friends than risk losing everything over a relationship.

My general course of action on a weekday would be going to school, talking with my friends in between classes, make a few good grades here and there, shake the teacher’s hand, and then head back home. Sometimes, though, I decided to head out with a friend or two after school and then go home. We'd wander everywhere and anywhere we could or wanted. Our parents didn't really care, so long as we got back home at a decent hour.

I remember this one time. Laura and I decided we wanted to go on a hike in the forest together. We had frequented the forest before " practically memorizing the trail as if it were the back of our hand. It got a bit repetitive, but we didn't go for the hike...we went to be in each other's company. We never even thought of going off the trail " too fearful of what may lie deeper in. That ideal of sticking to the path faded on this specific adventure.

That hot August day, we were walking down the pathway and came across a fallen tree. We could've just hopped over...but no. Laura quickly took advantage of the opportunity.

“Well, this must be fate, ain't it?” Laura hinted.

“How do ya figure? Just climb over...”

“Can't you see? It's obvious we aren't supposed to stick to the path today. Maybe...we could go out to the lake.”

“But...that would take us off the trail. What if we can't find our way back?”

“Oh stop worryin'. Where's your spirit of Adventure!? We'll be just fine! You and I know these woods better than anyone,” argued Laura.

“Ok, all right...I'll go. Just wipe that little smile off you face,” I said with a deep laugh.

So I believed her, in all my naivety. I told her I'd go. We climbed over the make-shift wooden fence and set off toward the lake, thus confirming my consent to get off the path and follow into the dark forest…the chilled, dark, ominous August forest.

Ten minutes in, I found I was beginning to enjoy myself very much, and it appeared she was enjoying herself the same. Finally, new scenery and beauty to take in, all the while being able to do so with the perfect company. For a good hour or two we traversed through the forest: climbing rocks, swinging and jumping across streams, scaling a few trees, and even crawling over what some may consider small mountains. After about the third mini-mountain, we came to the lake.

“Hey, wanna go for a swim?” asked Laura.

“No way! I'm not walking all the way back in wet jeans.”

“Sometimes you really amaze me.”

“Really? How swee-”

“Yeah, how clueless you can be sometimes,” She said jokingly, “You get in your underwear and hop in, silly. They dry much faster.”

“Uh, I don't " I don't really know.”

“Why? You aren't shy, are ya?”

“No! It's not that....it's just...”

“Just what? You are shy, aren't ya? Ya little chicken.”

I let her play me like a fiddle, yet again.

I stripped down into my jimmies and slowly crawled into the slightly chilled water " after which followed one of the most fun moments of my life. After about ten minutes, she and I were splashing each other, tossing pebbles at each other, and dunking each other in the water. It was a great day " but any day alone with a beautiful girl is a great day. We played together for hours upon hours. However, one time when she had dunked me under, she happened to hear a sound off in the distance.

“Hey, hey! Di-did you hear that?” she asked.

“Hear what? You had me under the wat-“

“Hush, there it is again!”

A slight cracking sound " like someone (or something) stepping on a stick. She and I scurried out of the water as fast as we possibly could, just like a mouse hiding from a cat.

“Hey, there’s a rock over there Laura.”

“Very good.”

“Uuugh…I mean we can go hide behind it instead of just standing here like idiots.”

“Fine, go.”

“Why should I go first? You’re the brave one…”

“Maybe because you’re the guy? Isn’t that the whole male macho-ness?”

“Male macho-ness? What?” I said with a laugh.

“Oh you know what I mean. Here, we’ll go together.”

“Fine. On three: One. Two. Three!”

When I said three I bolted toward the rock. She just stood there and giggled. 

“You’re so easy to fool”

“Am not!”

“Well…who’s at the rock?” she laughed.

“Oh that’s not " well…ummm… you-“

“I…what? Tricked you? That was my topic sentence.”

She and I both just laughed but were soon silenced by the sound of another crack of a stick and the rustling of leaves. She rushed over to the rock.

“So you’re here now, I see.”

“Oh hush, you!” Laura yelled.

We sat there waiting when suddenly a voice came out from the forest. We jumped at first, but we knew the voice: my Dad.

“Son! I've been searching for you for hours! You had your mother and I worried sick, and here you are half-naked with a girl in the forest lake? What were you thinking!?”

In an effort to rationalize my actions and nerf the situation I replied, “Dad, I was only having a little fun with my frien-”...

“I don’t want to hear it! We’re going to wait for Laura’s parents to arrive and then you and I are heading back home. You’re going to apologize to them before we leave.”

“But I didn’t do-“

“You’re going to apologize and you’re going to like it! Hear me?”

“Fine.”

“What?”

“Yes sir…”

Her parents arrived in a half hour and I was forced to give an un-felt and unjustified apology. My father and I then headed off. He grabbed me by the back of the neck and dragged me back to the house.

****

When we finally got back to the house, after an awkward drive might I add, I was greeted by my mother waiting on the porch. Her eyes were glossed over and red " one could tell she had been crying. I couldn't bear to look at her face; all it did was cause an unending pit in my stomach. She ran and hugged me, quickly followed by a smack to the face. I took it like a man would, no tears shed...not a single drop.

She told me, “You had me worried silly! I’m just glad you’re safe. I love you. I will ALWAYS love you. Nothing you do can ever change that.”

I was sent to my room, forbidden to come out except for school. I was taken off the buses, and my mother decided to take time off her job to pick me up daily, to make SURE I was going straight back home.

My father every night told me, “Son, never go into the deep forests. It is dangerous, both by the elements and by the people.” 

It got rather annoying and monotonous, but if I ever complained or made a face at him it wouldn’t end well…so I learned not to. I simply told him I understood and shrugged off his advice and headed to bed. At night I would tell myself how unreasonable they are being. How cruel these people are. I would repeatedly say that I hated them, making sure it wasn't in their earshot. I didn't mean any of it, but every teenager mistakes petty anger for hate. 

Two months I had to endure this, with another whole month to go…

****

I was curled up in bed, trying to cure my boredom with sleep. It was working, until I heard this tapping sound, then a cracking sound. It was Laura throwing rocks at my window. At first I tried to ignore her, pretend I couldn't hear it. That proved ineffective after the next 10 minutes of repeated taps and cracks.

I got up, and lifted the window. Unlucky as I could be, a rock hit me square in the forehead. Laura was unable to contain her laughter. We were both in tears, her from laughing and I for getting pelted with rocks.

I asked her what she wanted and she only gave a blank stare, as if she expected me to already know. I told her I had no idea what I was supposed to do, and she just sighed and gave a darting look toward the forest. She wanted to go back. Hesitatingly, I decided I would go. I told her to come back the next night and I would be ready. So she left, and I walked back to my bed and got snug in the covers and fell asleep.

My mother didn’t exactly approve of me sleeping late that day, apparently. At 9 in the morning she came into the room and woke me up. She said she needed me to help clean the kitchen. Still tired from the interaction I had with Laura, I slowly crawled out of bed and began to help clean. As I cleaned off the eggs my mother had made earlier for her breakfast, I stumbled and dropped the pan.

After she screamed she asked me if I was ok. I gave a subtle nod and proceeded to clean again.

“So, how’d you sleep son?” she asked.

“Fine, I guess. Still kinda tired.”

“Well, your father and I spoke about your punishment. I know you still have a month left, but we both decided you could be shown a bit of mercy.”

“Really? Thanks mom!” I said as I gave her a kiss on the cheek and ran back to my room.

“Hey! Just ‘cause I let you off of your punishment doesn’t mean you’re done!” she said jokingly.

****

With my new freedom, I decided to head out to see a new movie with my friend Jeremy. I had wanted to see the movie for months, and was depressed that I was going to be grounded while it was out. Now that I could go, I jumped at the opportunity.

When we arrived at the theatre, Jeremy and I ran into Laura. She was going to see some chic-flick with one of her friends, as usual. As we passed her by, she nudged me and asked if we were still on for the night. I nodded back, and she gave a flirting wink back at me and held her hand up like a 'W'. Jeremy wouldn't let it go for the rest of the day. It was quite the irritant.

****

Now near midnight, I stood by my window watching for Laura. An hour passed. Nothing. Another hour. Not a sound. Now another hour making 3 in the morning, still nothing. Finally, about 20 minutes later she arrived.

I quickly, yet silently, tip-toed through the house and out the back door and began circling toward Laura.

I asked her what took so long, and she just gave me a puzzled look.

“I told you 3 o'clock at the movies. I swear sometimes you are so blind to the most blatant things.” sniped Laura.

“When did you tell me the time? I wasn’t even sure you were coming. You asked if we were still on then held your hand up saying ‘whatever’”

“What? It was a three you idiot. Why would I make a W? I meant three. Like, one, two, three fingers, for 3 o'clock? Make sense now?” she giggled as she explained.

Embarrassed, all I could utter is a humble “Oh”.

“Yeah, 'Oh' is right. Now, are we goin' or not?”

“Of course we're going. I'm not missing out on this; I've waited all day for this, not to mention waiting the entire month to finally get out again.”

We headed into the direction of the forest. We walked for about an hour, then came to the old lake we were at just slightly over a month ago. We both got into our under-wear and decided to swim. We played for hours on end, and then it finally came to a halt.

There was a loud rustle near the edge of the lake. It wasn’t a bear, that would have been too large. I wanted to try and impress Laura, so what did I do? Well, like any man I went out to investigate the threat with my bare hands! I walked over to the source of the noise and fumbled through some brush looking for an animal of some sort. Nothing was to be found.

“See Laura, it's nothi-”, just as I began to finish my sentence, a shriek from a mountain lion silenced the entire forest. Nothing made a sound. For the next three seconds, the only sound you could hear was that of your heart beating. Faster. And faster. And faster until you knew it could not any more. The darkness was but a small obstacle in my path as compared to what lied ahead.

I darted back to the lake to grab Laura and rush back home. We had left our clothes behind on the rock, and we ran. Oh boy we ran as fast as we could. We made it maybe about halfway to the house when we could hear the Mountain Lion behind us. Chasing us. Shrieking at every chance.

In a desperate attempt to save ourselves, Laura and I climbed up this small tree to hide. We slid out to a branch, and waited to see what would come. Ten minutes passed, and the silence continued.

“I think it may have-”, as I cut her sentence off to keep her silent. There it was. This huge creature on the hunt. His fur was beautiful, but his eyes more so " as they gleamed in the dark. He was so majestic, so glorious and beautiful. Such raw power. But even the greatest beauty has danger. It had heard Laura and darted toward our area.

It didn’t take long until he found our tree. He took a strong swipe at our branch, but he missed. It looked like his hind paw was a bit hurt making him unable to jump high enough or climb. He leaped again, missing by a few feet. I whispered to Laura that I thought we were safe and she nestled her head in my chest. But the cat was persistent. Jump after jump, attempt after attempt he kept on trying to get us down.

Then, in an instant, the cat leaped and snapped the branch right between Laura and I. She began to fall. I reached over and caught her just in time before the completely fell. There she was, dangling from a tree with her only lifeline that of my arm. 

Her scream. Her scream to this very day haunts me. The most horrific, deathly afraid scream anyone could ever manufacture. My blood curdled at the very sound. She could feel death was at the door. As I was holding her, I could feel the splintered wood slowly piercing my skin. The bone and muscle were exposed as blood gushed from the wound. But even in the midst of all my pain, it was nothing to that Laura felt.

As I held her, the lion kept clawing at her. It scratched her legs bare " with gashes deep as the ocean. Blood poured out from her legs. As I held her hand I looked down at her face. I told her she’d be alright. But I could see the pain in her eyes as the tears streamed down her face joining the blood dripping below. Another swipe by the mountain lion and SNAP! Her leg broke. And with the constant weight on the branch it started to snap more, making the edge even more jagged slicing my arm even more.

My arm’s blood rushed toward my hand, causing me to start losing my grip. I couldn’t pull her up; I wasn’t strong enough. Her hand slowly slipped further and further and then…

She fell. What followed was hideous. The mountain lion tore her apart limb from limb, right in front of me. All I could do is scream, in pain, fear, and loss. A body dismemberment showcasing my best friend, and I had front row seat. Her face was barely recognizable " if you can even call what was left a face. She constantly screamed for help, but there was none to give. Then in one motion the lion smashed her throat, silencing all but his carnal monstrosity.

All I could do was turn into the tree and cry. For hours upon hours I cried and wept over the loss of my friend.

****

As the day went on and the sun protruded out above the trees, I could hear the faintest noise calling for Laura. I screamed for their attention, but no reply was issued back from them. I went louder and louder and still NOTHING! Then in the silence, I heard their voice ask, “Who's there”.

“Over here, help please!” I begged for them to hurry as if it would do anything for Laura.

As they arrived they saw me in the tree, and I saw their face. It was Laura's father. He had in his hand a necklace for her, as it was her birthday next week and he would be gone out of town for business.

When I saw him, my body finally had given out. My eyes began to black out, and I could feel myself slipping.

****

The next morning, I woke up in a hospital bed with an IV in my good arm. My room was empty for the first few minutes, and then a nurse came in and asked what my parent's names were. I told them, and the nurse said they would work on contacting them.

I begged her not to, but the nurse insisted that the hospital is obligated to contact the parents if they patient in question is a minor, which I was at the time.

In an hour the nurse comes back in saying they got in contact with my parents and they would be here momentarily.

Sure enough, 20 minutes later my mother came in with tears streaming, and my father with eyes watering to the brim. They thanked “god” that I was alright...they said they were glad I was safe...but if only they knew what I had seen, what I had gone through. The last thing I was, was alright or safe. I had killed my very own best friend.

It was my fault, was it not? Had I said no to going to the forest, she would not have died. If I had not gotten in the lake, she would still be here. Had I not wanted to impress her by finding the source of the noise, she'd still be breathing. Had I been strong enough to pull her back up, she would be laughing beside me now. Had I not let her blood stained hand go, she would not have suffered at the claws of that beast. It is my fault alone! I am to blame, am I not? Tell me where I am wrong! TELL ME!

Two years later, I was still harboring this guilt and blame in my heart, I heard her screams every night when I tried to sleep. I saw the claws of the mountain lion scrape at her leg, and I could see my hand slip and let her go over and over again. Unending.

The incident had rid me of the life I once had. The friends I knew, slowly left me as my cold shoulder turned them away. My life became the epitome of anti-social. No one was allowed in, not my teachers, not the two remaining friends I had, not even my own mother.

My mother had the worst of it all. Anything she said, whether it be mean or kind, I would discount as the ramblings of a crazed lunatic. She said she loved me, and I would simply remain silent and glare into the nearest corner trying to hold back tears of my knowing that no one could love me.

But time pressed on. My father soon grew restless of all my antics, so one night he left, and I have yet to see him since. My mother mourned at this, but she didn't blame me like my father did. She blamed herself. 

The next few months were the worst I have ever had in my lifetime. Every word I said was negative. Anything positive I discounted through logic and reason. I concocted this world view that love could not exist, and that everything was motivated by selfish desire, no matter what the surface reason was.

My mother and I would get into countless arguments. Every day, something new. One time it was about the garbage, another time about religion, and again about chores...it was unceasing.

Then something broke inside of her. As if all that she had lost finally came into view and all it took was just a single push for her to crack. And I was the catalyst.

She turned to me and as serious as I tell you this today, she looked in my eyes and said, “Son, I no longer know you. You are no longer my son. I have come to hate you with all that I am. Get out of my house. Just…get out.”

I tried to brush it off by saying, “But mom I was just-“

“GET OUT!” she interrupted.

And I left. This was the last thing I ever said to my mother. And those were the last words I heard her say to me. I had harbored such hate and resentment over the death of my friend that I had let it turn away the woman that promised me there was nothing I could do that would make her stop loving me.

****

After I was kicked out, I soon found I couldn’t afford to both eat and go to school, so I had to get a part-time job. I had to drop out of high school, so college was out of the question, not to mention not being able to pay for it. My lifelong dream of being a Doctor became a faded dream of a different life.

Now I’m stuck in a dead end job. My manager absolutely despises me, so promotion isn’t remotely possible. Only reason he doesn’t fire me is I’m too efficient. Even my co-workers avoid me. It’s a lonely life.

Now I am here today, talking to you. Explaining my life story in some desperate attempt it may teach you something or will simply make myself remembered. 

So what is the point of this story? Why bother telling it at all? It can't be anything special, can it? If you are asking this, then you missed the entire point of the story. Bitterness, hate, and guilt were stored inside of me. It was never let go, never forgiven. It changed me. Caused me to grow callous and spiteful toward everyone I see. There's little hope for me now, other than to warn you, do not become me.

This is the Pursuit of Misery, and I am at its end.