That Dark Night

     A slap across the chub-skinned cheek of his face and he writhes in pain and curiosity, as he wonders still who this angel-faced torturer is.

     “Take that!” she screams, as she delivers the top side of her foot to his shriveled hang downs and brings him to his bony knees.

     “Get used to that begging position,” she proudly brags, “it suits you well.”

     Smooth knuckles blacken his weeping eye and take what’s left of his breath away. The flat packing of another earth shattering punch springs the first sign of ruby red blood from his now crooked nose. It is at this point that a crowd of bystanders starts to form around the horrible display, yet nobody stops the beating as if this were all a clever act from the twisted mind of the most fucked up vigilante.

     A shiny aluminum baseball bat enter the scene as a metallically tinged “WHACK!” mixes in with the cracking sound of the boys ribs exploding into his chest. His breathing becomes even further hampered and is now as shallow as a girl with a prom dress and no date. The boy falls face forward into the ground and with a waterfall of tears in his eys begs her to cease this wretched madness.

     “Is this a game to you?” he pleads, “I don’t deserve this punishment.”

But the one way battle continues as each blow adds another scar to his collection.

The bat has now been replaced by a size 6 left foot cracking rib after rib, each kick sending painful shivers throughout every nerve ending in his bruised body and sending shards of bone closer and closer to his ever sensitive heart.

     “How dare you mock my existence!” she yells, but he still has no clue who this beauty has him mistaken for. This is the last thought he has as with one last hacking cough of blood and tar, he blacks out becoming all but instantly numb to the thrashing world around him. Only one misguided soul can stop this mayhem but what suck soul would dare cross the path of this freight train of anger and disapproval.

     The boy awakes on the stiff carpet beside his bed in a seizure of cold sweat. He bolts to the bathroom to see the damage he has endured only to find a single droplet of blood leaking from his perfectly straight nose.

     “Not again,” he mumbles with a sigh and he retreats back into another slumber, further amplifying his psychosis.

Author's Note

I was extremely pissed off when I wrote this but for no apparent reason. Writing it really helped but its the only short story I've ever done. Tell me how I did.

Reviews

[nono]

This is a very good story line....Nice job!

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

indicative of how deeply they dig into the subconscious to flip through into the dream world with weapons displayed~supremely engaging~ catches the imagination from the get go~ though I never wondered what he did to deserve the solid trouncing~ my question before the twist was what did he see in her in the first place~ that was a helluva descriptive beating he took~
crazy good stuff~ reminded a bit of the ultraviolent aspect of Trainspotting~

[Brad]

having been the guy swallowing his hang downs after being kicked into his frontal lobe, i can relate to the character...you've illustrated well verbally the intensity of the story...bitter, angry, made me salivate...that's good

[Forever Mine]

This was really good.I couldnt stop reading it, it was enticing. I loved the ending on this also.

[Robin]

great flow and images , wonderful twist at the end

[ScarlettTheDreamer]

Good story with a smart ending. It has all the elements that make it a great short story. I enjoyed reading this. You did great :)

[GBU POETRY ONLY]

Very explosive & gut gripping short short ... I always get a KICK out of how the ending turns on a dime... A tad violent but has some really hauntingly beautiful imagery through out... I take it that "Angel face" broke a heart or two and even though physically abused her lover in the dream, did more harm psychologically... ..."That Dark Night" busted through and hit us, face first at the get go ...
A Psychological explosion of a story... Bravo NIck