[Other Original] The World Turns

[Sonata]

Chapter 1: Awakening

What if when you woke up in the morning you found that the world revolved around you? From the time that we're young we're told that there are billions of people in the world already and millions more are born every week. It's ingrained so deep into our minds that it's impossible for such an expansive world to have been created and cultivated for a sole person. But just for a moment, say that it truly was and that you are that one person. When you wake up on this morning, what do you do?

If you were that person, then your name might be Isaac. Now before we get too far ahead of ourselves, Isaac isn't anything special at first glance. He's twenty years old, jobless and just passed the test to earn his G.E.D. after having been out of school for thirteen months. He's never had a dream nor a care in the world. Ever since he was little he's simply gone through the motions.

His father and mother were both meth addicts, and constantly used in front of him as a child. But it didn't pull him in. The first time he saw his parents do the meth he knew that he should never touch the stuff. His parents called to him, and their dealer offered to him a sample. But Isaac declined. He saw what it had done to his parents who only just moments before were about to take him out to a local park, and even as a child he knew better.

Once his parents regained their composure and the drugs wore off, they realized what they had done. They confronted their son, but he remained uninterested and unaffected by the entire display. He smiled to them as they came into his room and told them that if it made them feel better, then they should do it all the time. And at first the parents tried their best to hide it from Isaac. Even if it wasn't apparent on the surface, they knew something had to have happened in his head when he saw them and they didn't want to be seen by him while in that state ever again. But as time passed and Isaac remained stoic, they slowly became more public with their usage. And as it consumed them, they stopped caring about anything else. By the time Isaac was fifteen he had already left home to live with his uncle.

Isaac's uncle was nearly everything he had ever imagined. He was the authority that was missing from his life. His uncle was an ex-sergeant in the military and had been in charge of new recruits for several years during his service. However on his first tour of duty outside of the United States, his left leg was torn off from the explosion of a friendly RPG. A weak-willed soldier held at gunpoint broke down and killed off the entire squad save for the sergeant.

Isaac's uncle crawled into an overturned Volkswagen Beetle and hid for two weeks from the patrolling terrorist forces. He drank his own unfiltered urine to stay somewhat hydrated and to hide the scent. At the end of the two weeks the man had given up. He was cold, what remained of his leg was badly infected and he was starving. His only options were to be shot or to continue cowering in the shelter of the tiny vehicle and rot. The sergeant settle for the first option and so he propped himself up inside the car as a patrol squad passed by.

The group was several feet ahead of the sergeant and had already passed by on their patrol. With his vision blurry and his throat strained with every breath that he took he screamed out in their direction and pulled a service pistol from its holster. But instead of gunfire, he was greeted with a harsh cease-fire from the mouth of a superior officer. Isaac's uncle lowered his pistol and focused in on the man's face, recognizing him as the leader of operations at their particular camp.

They had been running patrols along the intended path of travel that the sergeant and his men had been going along before they were attacked for two weeks. The first day they were confronted by the same terrorist group but dispatched them with ease, and then continued to patrol for the next two weeks, hoping to find anything in the surrounding area from the missing squad. The sergeant broke down into tears and recounted the incident, and claiming that he had apparently passed out for two or three days due to the extreme loss of blood but somehow managed to survive.

Shortly after he was discharged honorably, he received a medal of honor as well as a sizeable amount of money in addition to his monthly disabled veterans check. A year passed and he left the rehabilitation center with a prosthetic and was sent out into the world. For a few months after he lived in his brother's house and stayed in the same room as Isaac. The two played games together, and the ex-sergeant ensured that whenever his brother was under the influence, Isaac was completely out of his area of influence. He didn't approve of his brother's behavior, but being unable to provide for himself he had no choice but to accept it until he moved out.

Every now and then, the soldier would have night terrors. Horrific re-imaginings of the short time he had spent on the battlefield. The war was nearly over, but the enemy fought as if it had only just begun. Every time these dreams came he would call out; he would call out to those under his command, he would call out to the weak-willed soldier that had damned them and he would call out to the god who had forsaken him. But every time these dreams came to him, he would be awoken by a warm embrace and then find Isaac there next to him in bed. The child would be curled around his uncle, holding and trying to comfort him with his eyes pressed firmly shut.

The uncle soon grew out of the terrors. His time there had been short, and Isaac had been better to him than any counselor or psych would have ever cared to be. But as he grew out of the terrors he also grew to be able to care for himself. His money began to pool and soon enough he had enough saved up to pay for his own housing. As soon as he found something, he left. Isaac stayed behind and watched as his beloved uncle rolled away onto the lift bus to take him away. The man turned around and smiled then gave his nephew a crumpled note saying how there was always a place for him there at the new house.

After that, he didn't see his uncle again for six years. On Isaac's fifteenth birthday he decided to take up his uncle on his offer and he packed his bags. The teenager walked and hitchhiked two hundred miles to the address that his uncle had given to him all those years ago. With his few belongings packed down into his school backpack, he was welcomed into the home with open arms.

As it turned out, the uncle had been attempting to see Isaac for quite some time. He even filed for several trials to win custody of the boy. But crime in the city escalated with every passing day, and before he knew it each and every one of his requests were shoved to the bottoms of the bins and were forgotten. Even so, Isaac's parents never came to retrieve him. The rest of his clothes as well as school work was sent through dozens of small boxes which came through the standard postal service and he never saw his parents again.

A few years would go by, and on the day that Isaac finally obtained his G.E.D. he would go out to confront his parents. He would go to show them what he had accomplished and to see how they might react to his news. But when he arrived at the old house he found it burned and abandoned. Windows were busted out, floors were torn up and the electrical as well as the water systems had both been cut and torn from their places. The house had been stripped down to its foundations and not a soul was in sight.

That night he went to bed, he found himself truly upset for the first time. He had thrown a few fits here and there throughout the years, but never truly meant it. Most times he had only done it to try and garner some attention from his parents before they went off to the dealer of the week. But this was different. They had packed up and left without leaving a single trace. They hadn't even sent a letter or called. They were gone and Isaac had no idea what to do.

Even if he had lived with his uncle for so long without seeing them, he would have thought that the ones who gave birth to him would at least like for him to know that they wanted nothing to do with him. Isaac's eyes swelled up as the thought passed his mind and his heart wrenched in his chest. Even if he hadn't really cared what happened to them, they should at least care about what happens to him. They should at least care enough to let him know what happened. They should at least...

As the tears fell down his cheeks he shoved his face into his pillow and cried himself to sleep. That night he dreamed about the first time that he walked in to find them buying their meth. Though they were all the same, he was all grown up and still filled with emotion. And this time, instead of refusing the drugs he accepted. If it meant to have something in common with his parents... something to bind them together since blood apparently wasn't enough... then he would do anything.

For the rest of the night the dream repeated. He would find himself in front of his parents and the dealer, accept the drugs and then return to the beginning. Over and over this played. Spinning and turning until the time that he woke up. And when he did wake, everything had changed, but yet nothing had changed. It had always been this way, he had just refused to believe it. But now it was all that he had and he couldn't bear to live without it. He had to be the focus of this world. It needs to revolve around him.​

 

[Mab]

This is really well-written! You started with a very effective hook sentence that got me reading enthusiastically, and you did a great job of developing personalities for Isaac and his uncle with those bits of backstory.
One thing I'm a little iffy about.

A few years would go by, and on the day that Isaac finally obtained his G.E.D. he would go out to confront his parents. He would go to show them what he had accomplished and to see how they might react to his news.

This is future tense, like something he's aspiring to do in several years.

But when he arrived at the old house he found it burned and abandoned.

Now this is past tense. Transitioning like this isn't a grammatical error, but I'd recommend the use of some sort of transition word to link the sentences. Something like this might help.

He would go to show them what he had accomplished and to see how they might react to his news. But when he finally traveled to the old house he found it burned and abandoned.

I'd hope to hear a bit more of the parents' side of it.
Looking forward to the next chapter :D

 

[moon]

hi alveyy

What if when you woke up in the morning you found that the world revolved around you? From the time that we're young we're told that there are billions of people in the world already and millions more are born every week. It's ingrained so deep into our minds that it's impossible for such an expansive world to have been created and cultivated for a sole person. But just for a moment, say that it truly was and that you are that one person. When you wake up on this morning, what do you do?

This bit got me expecting something deep/spiritual/mysterious. But what comes after feels a bit like the history part of a RP SU, all throughout the end of the chapter. This is criticism, not bashing :3 There are ways of exposing history and background for characters without telling it straight up, like here. Just something to consider!

You are a talented writer, doing a good job of making us feel and pity Isaac. I'm intrigued by what might come next.

 

[Sonata]

Chapter 2: First Steps

Isaac swung his legs over the side of the bed. His eyes were still on fire and crust had formed heavily over them. Depression hung over him as he shuffled to the bathroom. He had been so excited to go out and find a job, but now that he had been hit with the revelation that his parents disappeared without even telling him he had lost all motivation.

He looked at himself in the mirror as he unzipped his pants. He had forgotten to even undress from the day before. He had dressed up in one of his uncle's old suits, hoping that it might put him in the mindset to succeed. He had had on some nice black slacks, a nice black dress shirt and coat as well as a gold and blue checkered tie which was cocked to the side and so tight around his neck that he nearly choked. He pulled on the knot and it easily came undone as he finished up and zipped his pants back with the other.

Eventually he had to tell his uncle about what had happened in case he didn't know. Surely they would have at least told him something and he just didn't want to tell Isaac in case it would hurt his feelings. He wished everything would just fix itself somehow. Maybe his parents could show up at the door and tell them that they just moved in down the street or something. Or maybe they were moving out-of-state recently and they'll give a call or send something when they get there? Anything was better than having them just pack up and disappear.

As Isaac came down the hallway to where the living room was he could hear the television blaring already. Some kind of commercial for toothpaste. He looked over to the front door and clutched his chest. He yearned for even the slightest knock to come from it and for his parents to be on the other side ready to come in and explain everything. Maybe they were coming up the driveway right now and if he just stood here for a few more seconds then they would knock. Yeah, that had to be it. Isaac closed his eyes and concentrated really hard on them. He wished with all of his might that they might come up if he just waited a few more seconds.

And so he waited. The commercials changed to two different things and then finally returned to whatever show that it was his uncle was watching. Still nothing came from the door and still he waited. They had to come. He wanted them to come, he needed them to come. But the longer he stood there the more depressed he became. They weren't coming. They never came when he left, so why would they come when they were the ones to leave? Who was he kidding? The world doesn't revolve around any one person.

After having thoroughly depressed himself with the childish belief that he could actually do anything, he turned and entered the living room which his uncle was in. The man was sitting in his recliner and had it leaned all the way back to a near one-eighty and a sports magazine lay open over his face. Isaac didn't know much about sports in general, but his uncle was a true enthusiast. He watched every game every sunday and monday and recorded them to break down and analyze later. He had a fantasy team which helped to pull in some extra cash each week to provide for Isaac's recent ventures.

The young man creeped silently over to the rocker and stared at his uncle. How was he going to explain the supposed sudden disappearance of his parents to him? How would his uncle react when he found out; and could it be possible that he already knew and was hiding it from Isaac for the boy's benefit? He stood hovering there, contemplating each scenario as it ran through his head.

If his uncle did know about what had happened and was hiding it from him for Isaac's benefit, then how would he react when Isaac told him that he knew? Would he be ashamed of hiding it from him and go about explaining his reasoning? Or would he just accept that Isaac knows now and then apologize? Or would he even say anything? His uncle wasn't always the best with words, so it might end up that they just sit in silence until one or the other changes the subject.

But then there's always the chance that he never knew, and that Isaac telling him now would be the first he had heard of it. And if that were to be true, then... then what? How close were his parents really with his uncle? His uncle hardly ever mentioned them except for when he was praising Isaac or when he'd hit the Jack a little hard. Isaac had never really asked; it had never really seemed important up until now.

Isaac clutched his chest and started to panic. His face was on fire and the scenarios all rushed together in his mind. Why had he never asked how close his parents and his uncle were? Why had he never taken an interest in anything besides himself? Why did he have to be so bent on going out to show his parents his accomplishment when he hadn't even seen them since he was a little kid?

He squeezed his chest with his left hand and pulled on his hair with his right. Why had he never paid any attention? Why had he never cared? Why did he ever leave his parents? Why did his uncle take him in? Why did any of this ever happen? Why did he make such stupid decisions growing up? Why hadn't he made any sort of effort to stop his parents from taking the drugs? Why hadn't he ever been there? Why couldn't his parents just be here right now?

Why couldn't his parents just be here right now? Why couldn't his parents just be here right now? Why couldn't his parents just be here right now? The thought repeated over and over in his head. If only they were here to sort everything out. If only he had called them or gone to visit at all in all the time since he had left. If only he hadn't been such a shitty son.

Isaac's nostrils started to flare rapidly and the corners of his mouth twitched as tears started to run down his cheeks. A light whimper shook its way from between his lips as he turned and left the room. He wasn't in any state of mind to deal with any of this. Forget about his uncle, if he thought about his parents for one more minute then he'd be the one breaking down and picking up the bottle.

He tried to fill his head with any other little thing that he could. He thought of song lyrics, the best parts of his favorite movies and all the places around the town that were hiring. He even went so far as to pick up a stray sports magazine and shoved his face down into the middle of a paragraph. But nothing worked. Every time he started to think of one thing, thoughts of his parents and his uncle forced their way back to the surface. The few fond memories he had of his parents played over and over again in his mind. The sound of their voices and the laughs that they had shared pierced through everything else.

Before he knew it, Isaac was sitting with his knees to his chest in the middle of the hallway floor. The tears were falling even harder now and the memories playing back through his mind continued. One of the fondest of his memories took him back to a quaint mom and pop ice cream shop that his dad had taken him to on his fourth birthday. His mom was at work at the time trying to scrounge up some cash to properly celebrate. His dad had made the decision to take him out for a few hours so that his mother could get off work and decorate the house for a surprise party.

From what he could remember, there was nothing really special about the whole outing. But it was the one good memory of just him and his father. There were a handful of others with just the two of them, but most consisted of his father being drunk or high and Isaac either calling an ambulance or administering medication himself. But the ice cream shop one was pleasant. He could almost remember the taste of the ice cream he had that day.

Isaac started to doze off, lost in the infinite loop of memory. His eyes were shut and he had went from the sitting position to laying on the floor with his head resting on the slight ledge of the baseboard. Was it peppermint? He licked his lips and tried his best to remember. No, not peppermint. It was minty though, but not peppermint. He couldn't place the flavor.

He was getting closer to figuring it out when he heard a loud knock at the door and the shouting of his uncle as he fumbled to find the remote to the recliner. Three more quick knocks came and Isaac pushed himself up off of the floor. He licked his fingers and wiped the tears from his face. He looked through the peephole to see the back of someone's head, which didn't help much. His uncle called out to him, something about hurrying up and opening the god damn door already to see who it was.

But he really shouldn't have. What he saw nearly gave him a heart attack, because right there in front of him were both of his parents. His father turned towards him as the door crept open and then smiled wide when he saw his son's face. He held out a small cup with two scoops of ice cream in it and then with his other hand he gave Isaac a folded up piece of paper.

Isaac stepped to the side and let the two of them in. With his hands full, he motioned to his mother to close the door for him. She nodded and pushed it close and then wrapped her arm around her husband's as his husband wheeled himself into the room. The three of them exchanged a series of sobs, hugs, kisses and congratulations before turning to face Isaac. The boy's eyes were wide in confusion, but his father motioned for him to try the ice cream and then read the letter.

They were here now. Regardless of for what reason or how, they were here. That was all that really mattered. Isaac mindlessly lifted the cup up to his mouth and then scraped his two front teeth across the top before unfolding the letter. The taste of the ice cream was frighteningly familiar. The flavor he had been searching so hard for only moments before now sat in his hand and ran down the back of his throat. A smile started to form on the boy's face as a surprising set of words came into view. Notice of Release from Kennedy Addiction Recovery Center.​

 

[moon]

Oooh, I see what you're doing. You're making Isaac notice slowly through events that the world does revolve around him! Interesting. As always, your writing is nice, even though I found the repeated use of the word "depressed" slightly odd in the first bit of the story.

While it can give off a nice feel of realism that you might be trying to convey, to include redundant details such as exactly how the character is dressed or what kind of commercial is on telly without it really affecting anything in the story, deciding exactly which details to use and then make them either red herrings or actually have a purpose (even if minor) later on, can be interesting imo. I watched the first Godfather movie the other day. That is a great example of storytelling where every. little. detail. is important in one way or another. Just something to think about, but of course it is a style of writing and depends on how you want your writing to be perceived.

Will be interesting to see how this continues!