- WBMS (now online at http://writebymyself.tripod.com/)
My blog is at http://writebymyself.tripod.com/hellblog/
Dear Reader:
This short story was originally written so it could be easily converted to a
screenplay for a short student film. The filmmaker in question decided it wasn't
suitable for his vision, but I'm cool with that. So, instead, I am posting it
here. It's a one-off, which means there's no more coming. I'm posting it here
for your general amusement.
Please do not copy this posted story:
it is for your personal reading pleasure only while connected to this web site.
It may not be distributed, transmitted, or otherwise moved from this place. You
cannot distribute this story, print it for publication, put it on another web
site, display this story in any form, nor publish it anywhere without the
express written consent and permission of the author. Verbal permission is not
valid. This story is currently authorized on two sites only: DaBeagle and
AwesomeDude. If you find this story on a web site where you don't think it
belongs, please write
me and let me know. If you think you'd like to post it on your website,
please contact me directly. (Small excerpts may be quoted for review purposes as
long as you send me a copy of the review after it's released.)
Rather than limit myself in any way,
take this as your official warning: this material is designed for adult
audiences only, however this particular story is basically suited for any
audience. If you are under the legal age of majority in your present location,
you should not read this novel without your parents' permission. While most of
the story will be suited for any audience, parts of it could possibly contain
vulgar language, violence, and/or sexual situations which may make some people
uncomfortable. If you may be offended by any of this, you should not read this
story. I will not limit my writing to keep from offending those with narrow
minds or weak constitutions.
This story tells you nothing about me or my tastes -- except whether or not I
can write an engaging story. Like writers of murder stories, I do not
necessarily approve of any of the actions described herein. Any resemblance of
any character to any individual, alive, dead, or yet to be born, is purely
coincidental. The story is entirely fiction. All characters and events in the
novel are fictional. They are made-up, imaginary, and not real.
I hope you like what's here and I thank you for your time in coming here and
reading what my characters and I have to say. Once again, I really love
comments, suggestions, and even criticisms, so please feel free to send me
feedback. The only thanks and encouragement an author gets is when you take the
time to write. I answer all mail. Flames will be cheerfully ignored, but
constructive criticism is welcome. That being said, a special word of thanks
goes out to those who have written and offered words of support and
encouragement for my past endeavours.
I have a notification list and if you'd like to receive an e-mail when the next
chapter is submitted, just
write me and
ask to be added! Names on this list are not sold, bartered, traded, loaned, or
distributed. You will get mail only with major announcements including but not
limited to chapter postings.
I answer all mail. Flames will be cheerfully ignored, but constructive criticism
is welcome. Please, write me at
writebymyself@NOSPAMaol.com
(remove the NOSPAM to reply). Special thanks to my proofreaders who do a
great job. If you want to know about me,
try my website -- I've got a blog
there too!
Lastly, if you're a publisher or literary agent, or know one,
and would be interested in any of my work when finished, please write me
directly.
Dog
?2004-2005, WriteByMyself, All Rights Reserved.
Any duplication, in whole or
in part, is expressly prohibited without the written consent of the author.
REVISION DATE: 28 March 2005
Chapter One: Resurrection
Trent awoke to a banging on his door. "Trent,
honey, it's time for school." Trent climbed out of bed, and moved slowly to get
ready for school. It was his first day back after the accident. He wasn't
looking forward to going back to school after missing nearly three months. His
body still hurt. He couldn't remember anything of the accident, or in fact, the
entire school year. He'd just started high school in this backwater town after
moving here from Dallas, but his memories all stopped before he left Texas to
come to this God-forsaken hellhole in the middle of Florida.
He picked some clothes that he thought would be relatively normal for the
school, figuring what he already had must have been "in" when he was last there.
He supposed it wouldn't really matter. He trudged downstairs to eat breakfast.
"What's for breakfast, Mom?"
"Oatmeal, just like you asked for," Laura replied indulgently even though,
before the accident. Her son had despised oatmeal with a passion.
"Thanks!"
After eating his breakfast and completing his ablutions, he got in his car ready
to drive to school. He knew the accident didn't involve his car because it was
still here, but he didn't know much else. Trent wondered, not for the first
time, why his parents kept all the details of the accident from him. He figured
he'd learn about it in school.
As he backed out of the driveway, he realized he didn't even know where the
school was. He went back inside. "MOM! I don't know where to go."
"OK! I'll drive you this time." Laura was disappointed, hoping the start of a
routine would cause his memory to come back. She and her husband had been warned
not to discuss the accident with him. Soon, she dropped him off at the front of
the school with an admonishment to go straight to the office and pick up his
schedule.
Trent walked in, and saw the office immediately, saving him the embarrassment of
asking. Nothing looked familiar even though he knew he'd attended this school
for nearly three months. Heading towards the office, he looked around and was
relived that his clothing was similar to most of the other students.
He went into the office, walked up to the counter speaking to the woman standing
behind it. "Hello, I'm Trent Baxter and I'm here to pick up my schedule."
The woman's eyes got large, and she gasped. "Certainly! Right away." She ran
over to someone and whispered "he's here" but Trent heard her. She returned
after a few moments, handed him a piece of paper, ostensibly his schedule, and
he left with it clutched in his hand, the blueprint for his day.
Chapter Two: Interaction
He looked at it, saw his first class was
Geometry, and went to find the room. People were looking at him oddly, then some
jockish-looking types came up and said "Yo! T-Dog! How's it hanging? You coming
back to play soon?"
"Um, play what? I must know you, but I don't know who you are. I'm sorry. It's
the...."
"Yeah, the accident. We all know. We didn't believe them. You really don't
remember? Damn, dude! That bites. That's okay, though, as long as you can play
we don't care what you remember."
Trent continued walking down the hall wondering what sport it was he played, and
what he had done to earn 'T-Dog' as a nickname, when a girl accosted him. She
was stunningly attractive by anyone's standards. "Tent, honey, I've missed you
sooooooooo much." She cooed in his ear, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed
him on the lips before he could even respond. His body responded to the kiss
automatically.
She came up for air, and he asked, "I must know you, but, well, there was this
accident...."
"Oh, honey, it is true," she said with sadness in her voice. "Don't worry, baby,
we'll work through it together."
"I'm glad. Maybe you can help me remember. Maybe you can tell me what happened."
Trent was so happy someone was responding. "Er, why did you call me Tent?"
She pulled in close, whispering in his year. "Oh, baby, I named you after that
bulge in your pants. Don't you remember that party?" She stopped when she
realized he wouldn't remember, but Trent blushed furiously anyway. With a little
discomfort in her voice, she continued "Tent, honey, I'll come find you later
today, if I can."
Trent was already experiencing sensory overload. He'd been warned it would be
like this, but still, he was amazed at it all. He decided to run to the restroom
before his first class. He entered, and it was empty except for one nerdy
looking student. Trent started right for the urinal, which was when the nerdy
kid noticed him. "Please, just leave me alone. I'll leave. I'm sorry. Really.
You don't usually use this bathroom. Please. I'm leaving." The kid was obviously
terrified, shaking and stammering. He started to leave the bathroom.
Trent was confused by the kid's reaction. "Wait! Don't go!" he shouted, a little
too loudly and forcefully.
The kid stopped, turned towards Trent, visibly shaken. "Yes, sir?" quavered the
voice.
"I didn't do anything to you. I didn't do anything weird and you totally freaked
out. What's that about?"
The kid looked utterly and complete perplexed. "Man, don't fuck with me. Just do
it, and get it over with."
"Do what? What are you talking about?"
"Why do you have to toy with me? What did I do to deserve this? Can't you find
someone else? Wasn't last year enough?"
"I don't understand." Trent put his arms out and placed one hand on each of the
kid's shoulder. The kid flinched, and tensed up as if expecting something bad to
happen. "Look at me, please."
The kid was staring down at his shoes now, and beginning to tremble harder.
"Kid, what's your name?"
"All that and the infamous Trent Baxter doesn't even know my name?"
Trent realized this kid and he must've had some interaction before, and also
that this kid had no idea he'd been in an accident and had no recollection of
events prior to that. "No, I don't. Would I be asking you if I did?"
"I suppose not. My name's Nathan Warner."
"OK, Nathan. Let's try again. Look up and into my eyes."
Nathan looked up, terrified that the usual course of events was about to happen.
He was further confused when he was greeted with a bit of a smile.
"I'm not going to hurt you. Obviously I did something to you at one point, but I
don't remember. I was in an accident. I don't remember anything."
"Nothing. You're absolutely, totally, and completely sure of that?"
"Yes."
"You don't remember that you mercilessly picked on me, kicked my ass, stole my
things, and made my life hell? You don't remember embarrassing me repeatedly in
front of the whole school? You told everyone I was a faggot without even knowing
if it was true or not. You don't remember that I am a social outcast because of
you, a pariah, and have no friends?"
"Me? I did that?" asked Trent, appalled at what he was hearing.
Nathan's voice rose a little, "Yes. You did that. To me. Dozens of time. You,
Mr. Football Star, and me, your doormat."
"Why would I do something like that?"
"Because when you asked me to do your homework so you'd pass and make the team,
I told you to shove off and try studying for a change. Are you happy, now? Go
ahead, kick my ass again and get it over with. Okay?"
"No. It's not okay. I was a real shit, wasn't I?"
Nathan was shocked. "Yes, that's an understatement."
"Why didn't you turn me in?"
"What? And have the entire school hate me for ruining Mr. Popular's life? It was
enough having to deal with you. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a scrawny little
guy. You're a big muscled man. You can defend yourself. I can't."
Trent felt pained at this. "I'm going to make it right. I have no excuses from
before the accident and I don't remember it. I'll do whatever it takes, just
tell me."
"If you stop beating me up, that's all I really need."
"No, that isn't enough, Nate. I want to be your friend."
"Did you ever stop and consider the feeling might not be mutual?"
Trent felt like he'd been slapped. "That wasn't me. You have to let me fix it.
Please? I want to fix it. I really do."
"Bullshit! That was the real you. This isn't the real you. If you
just leave me alone, I'll move on with my life and you can move on with yours."
Nathan turned, started to walk away, turned back and shouted, "And it's not Nate.
My name is Nathan. Asshole." He then turned, and stalked out of the restroom
leaving Trent behind.
Trent was nearly in tears. What Nathan said was partially true. Who
was the real Trent? Was he really that much of a shit? He needed to fix
things. He left the restroom and noticed some people milling about by the door.
He was saddened to realize the exchange was probably overheard. Obviously people
were surprised to see Nathan leaving, dignity and health intact. Trent made his
way to his first class and went in. He didn't know where to sit, so he picked a
seat near the middle.
Chapter Three: Interception
Trent was getting his notebook out when in
walked Nathan just as the bell rang. There were only two seats left in the room:
the one in the front row, dead centre, and one next to Trent. Nathan clearly
didn't relish sitting in either seat, so he opted for the one next to Trent,
knowing full well front and centre was a virtual death sentence in any class.
"Welcome to Geometry, people. If you haven't had Algebra already, please go to
the office and have yourself reassigned. Algebra is a prerequisite for this
class." Sheepishly a few students got up and headed for the door. Nathan
immediately eyed some of the other seats and planned on moving as soon as the
teacher turned around.
"I believe no student is an island, and I will pair you up. It will help you in
your studies and will make sure there are no future issues. If one of you fails,
you both fail. So, if there's a problem, come to me early when I can help
you. Not after it's too late. Ah, my name, I believe I forgot to tell you, is
Jack Scraggs. I'll call roll while you prepare yourselves."
As the teacher went through the roll, the students answered and he put little
marks next to their names. "I do not allow students to pick their partners. I
will assign you the easiest way possible," and with that he walked down rows
pointing at people and marking them on his sheet. To the dismay of Nathan, he
was paired with Trent. "Now then, please get your books and open to page six."
After class, Nathan stopped at the teacher's desk, "You have to change my
partner. Please. It just won't work."
"Your name, son?"
"Warner. Nathan Warner, sir."
"Well, Mister Warner let me tell you how it works. I don't change partners for
any reason. Just drop the class -- that's the only way out. You do know this is
the only open geometry class this semester. The others are full." Nathan walked
out, discouraged. To his relief, Trent was nowhere to be seen.
As Trent's day progressed, he was basically treated with respect albeit
delicately. Oddly, he thought, nobody was able to tell him what happened. Or
maybe nobody would tell him what happened.
That night at home, he asked his mother, again, what happened. "Trent, you know
the doctors want you to learn gradually. They feel it will all come back and be
less of a shock to you."
"It sucks. Everyone's treating me weird, and I don't even know why. I have no
memories of my last few years. It's like they never happened."
"That will change. If it's not better by the end of this year, we'll see what
the doctors have to say."
Trent thought about asking his mother what kind of person he was, but he knew a
parent's answer would be so biased as to be utterly useless. He decided to
diddle around on his computer. He signed on, having no trouble remembering his
password though he didn't notice that anomaly. After a while spent surfing to
his usual sites, or at least what he thought were his usual sites, he loaded his
instant-message client.
He received a few instant messages, and then one from "TheNatester" demanding
his phone number. He sent back a quick reply, "Who the fuck are you to demand
my phone number?"
"Nathan Warner, from school, dickbreath."
"Oh! Sorry! I didn't know. My mobile number is 555-576-1432."
Soon the sounds of We are the Champions erupted from his tiny phone
signalling a call. He answered it, and after asking who it was realized it would
be Nathan from school. He answered, "This is Trent."
"Yeah, duh. It's Nathan. We've got to finish this semester out together it
seems."
"Yeah, I agree. But I don't mind."
"It's all about you, isn't it? I do mind."
"I'm sorry., okay? I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I can't change the past. I don't even
remember the past. Please, just drop it. Give me a chance for who I am now.
Please? What do I have to do?"
Nathan had a very interesting and terribly perverted image in his mind, but he
thought it best to not verbalize it. "Nothing."
"Please?"
"You want to do something for me, let's you and I go for a car ride this
weekend. Go somewhere secluded, quiet, and have a heart to heart talk."
"Uh, that's it?"
"Yeah, it'll be worth your while. Oh, and one other thing. Absolutely nobody can
know where we're going or when. When we come back you can decide what to do."
"Um, yeah. Okay, I suppose. When?"
"You tell me and it'll be good. It's not like I've got a life, anyway."
"How about tomorrow after school?"
"No, someone might see us leave together."
"Fine, you come over to my place, then. Make sure nobody sees you and then we'll
go."
"Good. It's settled, then. I'll be over around four."
"I'll give you the address."
"It's okay. I know where you live."
"I didn't know you knew that. But, okay. Talk to you tomorrow, Nathan."
"Yeah, see you then."
Trent pressed the 'end call' button and returned to his computer, which offered
him a break and some solace from the real world, which he found so confusing. He
couldn't concentrate, though and decided to go to bed. His thoughts kept running
through his head -- he used to be someone, that was obvious. Yet he
didn't remember any of that. He felt less-than-human because he felt as if he
was living a life that was not his own. It upset him so much that he wanted to
cry. He just didn't understand why nobody would tell him anything. He fell
asleep, hoping as always, he'd have a dream that would remind him of his past.
He awakened the next morning and went to school, hoping the day would bring him
relief from his troubles. If he wanted solace, he was disappointed. After
another frustrating day at school, Trent went home desperately wondering what
happened to leave him in this state.
Around quarter to four, there was a knock at the door and he answered it. It was
Nathan.
"You're early!" exclaimed Trent hoping he could hide his embarrassment at having
forgotten their appointment.
Chapter Four: Purgatory
"Yeah, well, I wanted to make sure nobody saw
me, so I left early and took a circuitous route. Let me in before someone sees
me here."
"Don't be so paranoid," stated Trent before he realized it sounded brusque.
"Whatever," said Nathan elbowing his way in the door.
Trent noticed that Nathan was wearing gloves but didn't comment on it. "Give me
a few minutes and I'll be ready." He really didn't know what this was about, and
wasn't sure what to bring.
Nathan looked about the house. Although he'd been here before, he'd never been
inside. He was going to peek around to try and get some insight into who Trent
was but he didn't have time as Trent appeared, jiggling his car keys.
"Let's go, Nathan. I'm ready." Trent eyed Nathan's bag, and continued, "Do I
need to bring anything? I see you've got a bag of stuff. You didn't tell me what
this was about, so I'm not prepared."
"Don't worry. I've got everything we'll need in this bag."
"What's in it?"
"You'll find out. It's a surprise."
Trent thought he sensed a tone in Nathan's voice, a niggling began at the back
of his head but he couldn't latch onto anything. It made him very uneasy. It was
almost as if a quick photograph appeared in his mind momentarily and then
vanished.
They went into the garage and got into the car. As Trent opened the garage door,
Nathan pulled his brand-new hoodie up and covered his head. Trent noticed it as
soon as he got in the car. "Where to, Mystery Boy?"
"Well, anywhere we will be totally and completely alone without interruption."
"You make it sound like we're going somewhere to make out."
"No, we won't be doing that," said Nathan aloud, but knowing that less than two
years ago he'd have gladly considered the prospect.
Trent sighed, audibly relieved. Nathan was shocked at the reaction.
"You're relieved. You thought that might be what I had planned, and you were
still going?"
"I told you, I wanted to fix things. I told you I'd do anything. It doesn't mean
I'd like it, but I want you to not be afraid of me any more."
Nathan's head reeled. He wasn't prepared for that. Nothing prepared him for
that. He began having second thoughts.
Trent turned down a side street. The street ended, but Trent drove off the end
-- he kept driving down the dirt road until he reached a wooded area near a
lake.
"Where are we?"
"Laura told me this is where we used to make out. Around 8:30 or so it'll get
some people but between now and then it'll be deserted."
"Perfect."
"So are you going to tell me why we're here?"
"Yeah, I am," said Nate with a brief pause before continuing. "Trent, we're here
because I'm going to tell you something. It's going to make you very, very
angry."
"Angry?"
"Oh yes, angry: maybe even murderous. I thought it best we be away from anyone
when I tell you." Nathan unzipped his small bag, and put his gloved hand inside.
He left it there.
Trent pointedly stared at the unusual action, but didn't say anything. Nathan
was hoping Trent would, but he wouldn't let it bother him now.
"Trent, I'm going to tell you about your accident."
"You know? YOU KNOW?"
"Yes, I know."
"Tell me! Please!" Trent reached out and started to shake Nathan, gently.
"STOP THAT! NOW! DON'T TOUCH ME! Calm down. I'm going to tell you." Nathan
waited for Trent to calm down.
"One day, you received a call at home saying there was a special early Saturday
morning football practice in preparation for the regional finals -- you were
also told that practice was at the college stadium." That was a legitimate call.
The practice was moved, and I saw the announcement on the bulletin board at
school.
"The college stadium? Really? Isn't that in the next town?" Trent didn't even
realize that he just remembered where the college stadium was. Memories were
starting to slowly awaken.
"Yes, it is. Down a long, straight, dark highway until it curves on a downward
slope around the lake before entering town. The kind of a highway a teenager
would speed on at four-thirty in the morning on a Saturday." He paused for
effect before continuing.
"Well, you went to practice. And like all jocks, being invincible, you pushed
your car as fast as it would go, knowing the cops wouldn't likely give the local
star athlete a ticket. You were going at least eighty. When you got to
dead-man's-curve, you tried to slow down only you found you had no brakes. The
police estimated you were doing nearly ninety when you slammed into the trees.
If you had been wearing your seat belt, you'd have died. But in your stupidity,
you didn't wear it and by a freak stroke of luck, you were thrown through your
window and into the lake. You should have died, but you didn't. You were in a
coma for a long time."
"How do you know all that? All I've been able to find out is that it's a sealed,
ongoing investigation. There is no mention of any details anywhere."
"Well, Trent, your brake lines were cut. They're trying to find out what
happened, so everything is hush-hush."
"But how do you know?"
"Trent, I made the call to make sure you didn't forget the practice. I put a
small hole in your brake lines so the fluid would be drained out by the time you
got there. I was in the woods waiting when you came down that road."
"Dear God! Why?"
Nathan pulled his hand out of the bag, and in it he held a Walther PPK. He
pointed it at Trent's head. Using his finger, he flicked the safety off. "Why?
For everything you ever did to me. I brought you here to finish the job."
"You won't get away with it."
"Sorry, but I rather think I will. Nobody knows we're here. There is no trace of
my ever having been at your house, there is no trace of me having ever been in
your car. There are no fingerprints, no nothing. None of the clothes I'm wearing
are mine -- I've taken them all from a Goodwill box. I'll burn them all later.
I've got a change of clothes with me."
"You went to all this trouble. I suppose I deserve it, don't I?"
"Yes, you do. You really, really, do."
"Make it quick, okay?"
"Thing is, Trent, I realized that you'd sleep with me if I told you it would fix
things That's when I decided you really had changed. So, although you
were an asshole, I am an attempted murderer. You can't go to jail for being an
asshole. I don't want to go to jail because I can't deal with that." Nate
paused, trying to keep himself under control. "I have to finish this, Trent. I
hope you understand."
"Yes, I understand. Like I said, make it quick."
"Trent, one last thing."
"What?" asked Trent, tears flowing down his face. He didn't want to cry, but he
knew his life, miserable though it was, had run out of time. Worse, he felt he
deserved it.
"I've always loved you. Unrequited love sucks."
Trent closed his eyes waiting for the inevitable.
Nathan, tears running down his face, aimed the gun at himself, squeezed the
trigger, and with a loud crack, he was dead.
Please use this form to send feedback to the
author. Thank you.