DarkCircuit
May 24th, 2005, 02:27 PM
Katsuro's Quick Guide:
Title: Death [For now...]
Genre: Drama
Rating: PG-17
--For: Death, swearing
Type: Short Story
Author's Notes: This is a rather stylized piece. Not my usual short story. In fact, this was supposed to be divided into a longer novella. Oh well. I actually don't like it much and it's REALLY negative. Like I said, not my usual stuff. Can you guess what the police officer told him? I'll tell you at the end ^_~
“Why?” It was probably the most expected thing to say besides breaking down and crying. It was probably the most widely spread question he mused, that one might ponder over at night. Thinking about it made his head hurt, so David simply stopped. Stopped thinking, stopped talking, stopped looking.
“Son. Are you all right? We have psychologists ready to help you in the grieving process, and ease the emotional pain you must be in,” the police officer said it with a slight drawl, making him sound impossibly silly. A fact that would be lost on people that weren’t in his position.
“No,” He didn’t want to take advice from a shrink. Especially not some stupid police officer who probably had never lost anyone in his life. “Do you have any idea why?”
“Son, we’re looking into that-“
“Will you PLEASE stop calling me SON?! I JUST LOST MY F**KING FATHER!”
The officer was momentarily taken aback. From the guy’s calm face you couldn’t see a hint of emotion. Yet there he was; yelling at the top of his lungs. Of course, death made you do that sort of thing he supposed. Finally, the officer stepped forward, deciding that he had had enough of this conversation. “Look kid, I’ll give you this number. Call it if you have any problems. The PD will get back to you on the case and details. Really sorry about what happened.” He said kid in a adult to toddler way. Enjoying this job of bearing bad news. Reveling in the way that he could affect people in such horrible ways.
“You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Huh?!”
“You heard mean. You don’t give a d*mn about my father, and you don’t give a d*mn about the case.”
“Now kid, that’s not fair. I don’t LIKE doing this. It’s just a part of my job.”
“Bullsh!t. You think I don’t know that you enjoy this? Every torturing minute for me is like icing on a cake. You sick perverted b*sterd! Did you really think you can hide that horrible, awful, LAUGHING SMIRK BEHIND YOUR EYES?! You don’t give a **** about anyone. Least of all me.” David reached onto the coffee table next to the door. A gun rested precariously on it. “I was already suicidal. Couldn’t tell, could you? Well guess what? Now I can take you down with me.”
The shots rang throughout the neighbor hood.
Author's Closing: His father commited suicide.
Title: Death [For now...]
Genre: Drama
Rating: PG-17
--For: Death, swearing
Type: Short Story
Author's Notes: This is a rather stylized piece. Not my usual short story. In fact, this was supposed to be divided into a longer novella. Oh well. I actually don't like it much and it's REALLY negative. Like I said, not my usual stuff. Can you guess what the police officer told him? I'll tell you at the end ^_~
“Why?” It was probably the most expected thing to say besides breaking down and crying. It was probably the most widely spread question he mused, that one might ponder over at night. Thinking about it made his head hurt, so David simply stopped. Stopped thinking, stopped talking, stopped looking.
“Son. Are you all right? We have psychologists ready to help you in the grieving process, and ease the emotional pain you must be in,” the police officer said it with a slight drawl, making him sound impossibly silly. A fact that would be lost on people that weren’t in his position.
“No,” He didn’t want to take advice from a shrink. Especially not some stupid police officer who probably had never lost anyone in his life. “Do you have any idea why?”
“Son, we’re looking into that-“
“Will you PLEASE stop calling me SON?! I JUST LOST MY F**KING FATHER!”
The officer was momentarily taken aback. From the guy’s calm face you couldn’t see a hint of emotion. Yet there he was; yelling at the top of his lungs. Of course, death made you do that sort of thing he supposed. Finally, the officer stepped forward, deciding that he had had enough of this conversation. “Look kid, I’ll give you this number. Call it if you have any problems. The PD will get back to you on the case and details. Really sorry about what happened.” He said kid in a adult to toddler way. Enjoying this job of bearing bad news. Reveling in the way that he could affect people in such horrible ways.
“You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Huh?!”
“You heard mean. You don’t give a d*mn about my father, and you don’t give a d*mn about the case.”
“Now kid, that’s not fair. I don’t LIKE doing this. It’s just a part of my job.”
“Bullsh!t. You think I don’t know that you enjoy this? Every torturing minute for me is like icing on a cake. You sick perverted b*sterd! Did you really think you can hide that horrible, awful, LAUGHING SMIRK BEHIND YOUR EYES?! You don’t give a **** about anyone. Least of all me.” David reached onto the coffee table next to the door. A gun rested precariously on it. “I was already suicidal. Couldn’t tell, could you? Well guess what? Now I can take you down with me.”
The shots rang throughout the neighbor hood.
Author's Closing: His father commited suicide.