Reality (The Windowed House)

Two of the most horrorible things we Humans can endure in life; the first is Puberty, the second is the worst Reality. What is your reality?

“You can't handle the truth!” I yelled to my teddy-bear. The soft harmless little creature had not piped down, like I wanted it to. At least not since we were taken the 'Window House'.

My name is Declan and I used to live at 18 Little Dale Avenue (Not Dale Avenue). I used to sit in my room and play the PlayStation and talk to my imaginary friends while drawing all sorts of habitats they could live in. I have designed each and every friend accordingly to Charles Darwin's theory of evolution, like Snuggle-pie would have a winter coat, because he lived in a frosty environment, Mr. Gerald was a reptilian, so I thought he'd be more comfortable if I drew an environment near the equator. Oh and I can't forget about Polly, Mother warned me it's rude to ignore women. Polly was a beautiful, gorgeous girl and polite girl. She had a monkey-physique so I thought I'd draw her a nice forest habitat. Where she had trees to climb, though Snuggle-pie and Mr. Gerald were great company, Polly was my favourite. She was never rude to me, she always listens. Yes, always.

My Teddy-bear was just a talkative nuisance. Always I could hear him speak, he never stopped to hear what I had to say, not even for a moment. I knew from the moment I first saw his dodgy Chinese sweatshop stitches that he'd land me in trouble. Actually he was the reason Mother took me to the window house. Mother had grown tired of me and teddy fighting, she had tried to throw him out on numerous occasions but each and every time, Teddy would just wonder back into my room. I would find that dreadful stitched up b*****d on my pillow. Always in the dead middle, just 3 centimetres to the right. (I knew because I measured it once with a 30 cm ruler.)

So anyway Mother grew tired and angry of us fighting, so she placed us both in the Window house maybe to help us reconcile our differences, though I don't see why the phycologists only askes me the questions and none to Teddy. Actually she just ignores Teddy completely, but how can she? Teddy never shuts up. I wish I had Doctor. Davis's power to ignore Teddy. But if she sticks that horrid needle in my arm again this week, I'd have no choice but to sick Mr. Gerald on her.

“Arrghh!!!” I screamed. “Always with the questions!” Why won’t Teddy shut up? He knows, He knows. There's no doubt about that. He is just jealous, a jealous mean old bear. Did I tell you he snuck into my bedroom back when I lived at 18 Little Dale Avenue? He saw me, he caught me and now he persists with the questions, oh yes the repetitive questions. I had even contemplated taking my life a week ago; one, it is so dark and depressing at the window house. There's a gloom that does not cease, in fact Snuggle-pie ran away just yesterday. Two, there's no PlayStation. THERE'S NO PLAYSTATION! When they built this well designed and orchestrated block of cells, walls, doors and yes windows. The architect had forgotten to put in a PlayStation. Such a design flaw, that I'm surprised Mother would allow me to enter such a building. I had written to her, in fact several times asking for my PlayStation, but she'd just send back letters full of some lovey-dovey crap that had nothing to do with my PlayStation.

It's not like I can leave the Window-house and go to JB to correct the Window-house's design flaw. They won’t let me out. Those evil Nazi's, I started coming to the conclusion a day ago that my imprisonment in the Window-house had nothing to do with Teddy's talkingness.

The Next day, Doctor Davis took me out of my room, she marched me up to the medical treatment ward, as she had done each and every week since my first day at the window-house, every day she would inject me with some neural-whatever it is, followed by two capsules and then she'd ask me about; my day, what I remember of my Mother and more concerning Teddy, but she never looks over to Teddy.

But today I've decided to break free of the shackles of oppression, I saw the bright sun through the Doctor's window, knowing that somewhere out there, there is a PlayStation for me. The tablets Dr. Davis had given me usually have a side-effect that makes me drowsy and sometimes hallucinate. So I thought today I maybe would just pretend to swallow my 'medicine' or something just to keep the Doctor happy and when she lets her guard down I will escape from this institution. I've never seen a single guard at the doors, so breaking out of the Window-House would be easy.

“Now Declan, it is time to have your medicine!” She held out a tray with a strange purple pill neatly placed in the centre, next to a clear glass of water. This was the second administration. This was my chance to escape, it was now or never. I bit her hand as she attempted to put the pill in my mouth. I pushed the tray over, which made the pill fall to the ground and the glass fell on the neat floor and shattered to pieces. I ran out the hallway, which was suspiciously empty. I pushed past the front door and ran straight into the front yard. I could feel a breeze; I don't remember being naked. Why the f**k am I naked? Wait, I've never uttered profanities, well at least I don't remember.

I could feel myself fatigue as I fell on the lawn. Wait, what lawn? It was all just dirt. What had happened? More importantly where am I? …

I awoke to find that I had aged, my face was lined with wrinkles and I had a long white beard that brushed down to my chest. I slid my tongue to only feel a lot of missing gaps in my mouth where my teeth use to be. I turned around just to see a worn out old house with a crude inscription on the mailbox written in cheap black permanent marker '18 Little Dale Avenue'. The handwriting was grotesque and poor. As if someone with a strong intellectual impairment had written it. This was my home. How did that happen? I had spent only months at the House with windows, there's no way in Hell I could of aged in a few months. But regardless I walked up to the front door. It was unlocked. So I let myself in to find a hallway that lead up to my room. Whatever had happened did not matter because my one love (besides Polly) was awaiting my arrival in my bedroom. I looked around to see the house was unkempt and poorly maintained. It was as if I had stepped into a haunted house.

All the windows were broken and the fridge had died. Probably had something to do with the motor being burnt out due to someone leaving the door open. The bench was a mess being littered with beer bottles and corn chip packets. The stove had one frying pan on it that was coated with grease and ummm... what's this? Yuck a mouldy old piece of steak. I opened my bedroom door and found my bed, my television and all my other furniture had been taken. All that was left was my stinky mattress and my PlayStation console, though I had no games, all that I needed was my precious console.

“Arrrghhh!” I screamed. I saw something in the corner. Something so horridly disturbing. Something nobody should see. “Mother!” I wept. I saw the bones of a lady whom I recognised from the clothing to be my dear Mother. But she had something in her long dried out jawbone. It appeared to be the mouldy remains of … TEDDY! Someone had suffocated my Mother while I had been gone. Actually did I ever go to the Window-house? I don't remember. I heard a noise come from my Mother's old room. I snuck out the hall and crept up to her door. I went to investigate.

“Dec!” called a Woman's voice from her room.

What is this? Somebody in Mother's room. Man, if she weren’t dead she'd be so mad at me. I'm not allowed to have people in her room.

I opened the door to see a wrinkled up lady who looked older than Mother. She had track marks down her arm and her facial expression was bare and blank, it was like something had come and sucked her soul out. Her skin was dry and flaked with red blotchy marks, in fact she looked more reptilian than Mr. Gerald. Was she Mr. Gerald all this time? I shuddered to think what Snuggle-pie actually was, and who was Polly? Where did Teddy's voices come from?

“Come to bed, Dear?” spoke the unkempt lady.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY MOTHER?!?” I yelled to her. She had to of killed Mother, that body had sat there for a very long time and it's obvious she hadn't reported it to the police.

“You choked her, silly.” Laughed the Soulless lady. “Don't you remember? She caught us havin' shards and you stuffed that old bear down her throat.”

I was confused. It seemed like only this morning I had been a child, now I wake up to find my house turned into a dump. That my two imaginary friends were, were HER! But who was the third and favourite imaginary friend, Polly? Was that her name?

I thought to ask her what happened. “Polly! I ...”

“FOR F**K SAKE!” roared the Lady suddenly. “EVERY F*****G TIME...” she got out of bed and pulled a dirty old hunting knife from under her pillow. “... YOU INJECT SHARDS...” She walked closer to me brandishing that knife. “YOU ALWAYS GO TO YOUR ROOM...” Her weak frail hand tightened around my throat as she grabbed hold of it. My heart was racing. What the hell was going on? “... AND F**K THAT CORPSE MOTHER OF YOURS AND YOU CALL HER THAT NAME!”

“WHO IS POLLY?” she screamed. I felt that knife hit me in the stomach. I looked down to see my belly was leaking a mixture of blood and what appeared to be some sort white juice. “WHO IS POLLY?” she roared again.

The next minute I felt her knife pierce my throat. As I saw the lights go out. I saw my life flash before my eyes. The images I saw made me want to puke. Me killing Mother, Me Injecting shards and swallowing acid capsules and sneaking off to my old room to engage carnally with the lifeless body that sat stiff in my room. My de facto screaming at me. Me telling her to shut up and telling her off for being talkative. Then the lights went out.

Reviews

[Alima Burr]

You throw in some really great details, like the Chinese stitches on Teddy. The main part of the story feels like a darker version Calvin and Hobbes.

From the beginning to the middle I was trying to figure out the age of the main character. How old is someone who likes to play with stuffed animals, play playstation and contemplates suicide? The transition to the realization of old age was quick and it leads me back to the comment how the drugs cause Declan to hallucinate. Is this older version of himself with the dead mother a result of the medication? A hallucination? Or is the younger self imprisoned the hallucination? Or does time really fly that quickly past?

Thanks for your story! I feel like you've got a lot in a little amount of space and it could be spread into a longer story to help tie up some of the loose parts.

[EJ's Horror]

Thank you for taking the time Alima, to not only read it but write me a review, I was trying to create a false reality for Declan, where a combination of his deterioriated mental state and illicit drug use with a dose of remorse, and try to recreate a monster we see everyday; Depression, narcotic related drama and of course try to capture the part of life where we all start out as innocent unscaved oyunglings and how time can alter that greatly, In a small space of time. I am really keen to produce a longer version, thank you for pointing out these loose ends, I plan on to elaborate on them more, I'm a newby writer, and I'll see if I get some more opinions before I start XD

[Satan's Crow]

They could have helped him escape from the asylum, for starters.

[Satan's Crow]

I really enjoyed the beginning, these weird, imaginary friends are interesting and imaginative. Gave me the impression that i was off on some fantastic, surrealistic ride, in a very odd world.
Then you blew it with the old man and the dead mother routine.
A teddy bear like you created and all the others need to be real. That, in my opinion would have made a much more interesting story.

[Coyote Poetry]

Wow. A amazing story. You took me in and I wanted more. You made each scene come alive. I liked the way you described each scene in the story. Perfect ending to the outstanding short story.
Coyote

[EJ's Horror]

Thank you Coyote, again :) I think I owe your work some reads by now :D

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome. I enjoyed this story.