I Swear It Didn't Mean For It To Feel Like This
Ok, first thanks to Elizabeth for letting me in on Jack's Mannequin. I was listening to their CD and I love the song "Bruised" and as I was listening to it I came up for an idea for a story. So I invite you to read it, but I will warn you that it is not a kiddie story. It is not happy and it has a very creepy theme. I know it is kind of morbid but I am ok with that. Here you go, the aptly named BRUISED.
Bruised
By Benjamin Curley
I had never seen the man before till I walked out of the supermarket. As soon as I passed him I felt a pain at the back of my head. It felt like a hydrogen bomb had exploded in my brain and I fell to the ground. The rough gravel cut into my hands, knees, elbows, and face. My nostrils were filled with that distinct sent only gravel has. The blood was running freely from fresh gashes in my skin and it was staining my clothes and the gravel below me.
He reached down and turned me over exposing my open wounds to the air and sun light. I was lucky for the moment, the high amount of adrenaline in my blood steam allowed me to escape the pain I by all rights I should be feeling right now. He picked up a stick and raised it for a blow . . . wait, it wasn’t a stick, it was metal. A crow bar maybe, but what it was no longer mattered. The blow fell, then a second, then a third. There was an audible sound of my shoulder breaking to pieces. He reared back and kicked me with the crack of several of my ribs snapping in two. I felt a fire in my stomach and I knew a broken rib had lacerated something. As I stared spinning I watched an arc of blood float behind me. That was the interesting thing; adrenaline has the strange side effect of making the world seem to slow down. The blood formed perfect drops and I found it hard to believe it was really mine. He ran at me and kicked me harder this time. As I flew through the air I wondered what she was doing now. She was probably thinking I would be home soon with the milk so we could start dinner. He stood over me know and swung at my legs. Ah, there it was. I was running low on adrenaline I now felt the acute pain of each blow as my bones were turned to dust. He was saying something now, but what it was I no longer gave a damn. My jaw shattered as he stomped down on my face.
I felt my mouth fill with blood and was finding it harder and harder to breath. Then there she was standing over me looking down. Her shoulder length brown hair shimmered in the setting sun and she smiled down at me. Far off I sensed he was still hitting me, but even he no longer mattered now that she was here. She kneeled down next to me and took my hand in hers. I felt a wave of warmth come over me and every ounce of pain faded away. She looked down at me and I stared back into her deep brown eyes. She had never liked her eyes but they are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. They seem to just go on forever and ever. Two dark pools that I never deserved to look into. She was too good for me, but for some reason she though was worth settling for. I couldn’t complain. I had always been fascinated with those eyes. How could I have been blessed enough to spend one moment lost in them. One moment looking in those celestial pools was a million years of pure bliss. With my last reserves of strength I reached up to caress her face one last time.
The cop ran to the scene and raised his fire arm. The man with the pipe looked at him and charged. Two hollow points in the chest and one in the head dropped him like a sack of wet beans. The police officer started running to what was left of the victim and as he did he saw an impossible sight. This broken man’s arm was rising up toward the empty air, and by all rights it should be unable to move. It was broken in at least five places and the man had lost a lot of blood. Then came the moment that would haunt him till the day he died. The arm went slack and with the grace of a dancer and the tragedy of a dove began to fall. It was like the History Channel shows where you see a plane spinning out of control. You know there is some poor man inside trying desperately to avoid his doomed fait, but it was all in vain. It is beautiful and terribly depressing at the same time. With a crunch of gravel and a squish that would cause even the staunchest stomach to turn the arm completed its death dive that never reached it’s imaginary goal.
Bruised
By Benjamin Curley
I had never seen the man before till I walked out of the supermarket. As soon as I passed him I felt a pain at the back of my head. It felt like a hydrogen bomb had exploded in my brain and I fell to the ground. The rough gravel cut into my hands, knees, elbows, and face. My nostrils were filled with that distinct sent only gravel has. The blood was running freely from fresh gashes in my skin and it was staining my clothes and the gravel below me.
He reached down and turned me over exposing my open wounds to the air and sun light. I was lucky for the moment, the high amount of adrenaline in my blood steam allowed me to escape the pain I by all rights I should be feeling right now. He picked up a stick and raised it for a blow . . . wait, it wasn’t a stick, it was metal. A crow bar maybe, but what it was no longer mattered. The blow fell, then a second, then a third. There was an audible sound of my shoulder breaking to pieces. He reared back and kicked me with the crack of several of my ribs snapping in two. I felt a fire in my stomach and I knew a broken rib had lacerated something. As I stared spinning I watched an arc of blood float behind me. That was the interesting thing; adrenaline has the strange side effect of making the world seem to slow down. The blood formed perfect drops and I found it hard to believe it was really mine. He ran at me and kicked me harder this time. As I flew through the air I wondered what she was doing now. She was probably thinking I would be home soon with the milk so we could start dinner. He stood over me know and swung at my legs. Ah, there it was. I was running low on adrenaline I now felt the acute pain of each blow as my bones were turned to dust. He was saying something now, but what it was I no longer gave a damn. My jaw shattered as he stomped down on my face.
I felt my mouth fill with blood and was finding it harder and harder to breath. Then there she was standing over me looking down. Her shoulder length brown hair shimmered in the setting sun and she smiled down at me. Far off I sensed he was still hitting me, but even he no longer mattered now that she was here. She kneeled down next to me and took my hand in hers. I felt a wave of warmth come over me and every ounce of pain faded away. She looked down at me and I stared back into her deep brown eyes. She had never liked her eyes but they are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. They seem to just go on forever and ever. Two dark pools that I never deserved to look into. She was too good for me, but for some reason she though was worth settling for. I couldn’t complain. I had always been fascinated with those eyes. How could I have been blessed enough to spend one moment lost in them. One moment looking in those celestial pools was a million years of pure bliss. With my last reserves of strength I reached up to caress her face one last time.
The cop ran to the scene and raised his fire arm. The man with the pipe looked at him and charged. Two hollow points in the chest and one in the head dropped him like a sack of wet beans. The police officer started running to what was left of the victim and as he did he saw an impossible sight. This broken man’s arm was rising up toward the empty air, and by all rights it should be unable to move. It was broken in at least five places and the man had lost a lot of blood. Then came the moment that would haunt him till the day he died. The arm went slack and with the grace of a dancer and the tragedy of a dove began to fall. It was like the History Channel shows where you see a plane spinning out of control. You know there is some poor man inside trying desperately to avoid his doomed fait, but it was all in vain. It is beautiful and terribly depressing at the same time. With a crunch of gravel and a squish that would cause even the staunchest stomach to turn the arm completed its death dive that never reached it’s imaginary goal.