Hope, Depression, Love & Fractured Hearts: A Collection of Short Stories & Other Pieces of Writing
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Hope, Depression, Love & Fractured Hearts: A Collection of Short Stories & Other Pieces of Writing
Bradley Atchison
Copyright
Hope, Depression, Love & Fractures Hearts: A Collection of Short Stories & Other pieces of Writing
Version 1.1
Copyright © 2012 Bradley Atchison
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-301-90531-7
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Cover Art
The art on the front cover is called, Heart Under Fractured Glass, created by Sydney Atchison and was used with her permissions.
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank, Mike, Mark and, Patrick for reading everything I wrote from the very beginning. I valued their honest opinion on the good, and the bad. And finally for not telling me it was good, just because I wrote it, because, of them I was motivated to continue.
Table of Contents
Contents
Chapter 1: The Red Door
Awaken
Hallway
Third Day
What's to Become of Me?
The Mattress
The Ladder
The Man
The Dream
The Kerchief
Alive
The Voice
Days
Window
Miranda
Colour
People
Red Door
Chapter 2: I Had a Dream
Chapter 3: Beauty in the Breakdown
Chapter 4: The Woman
Chapter 5: I Hear
Chapter 6: Filling Me
Chapter 7: I Love
Chapter 8: Smile
Chapter 9: Dreams
Chapter 10: Depression
Chapter 11: Always and for Today
Chapter 12: Three Simple Words
Chapter 13: You are my Love
Chapter 14: Carry On
Chapter 15: Letters from the Heart
September 6, 2003
September 13, 2003
September 21, 2003
September 28, 2003
October 3, 2003
October 10, 2003
October 11, 2003
October 18, 2003
October 28, 2003
November 5, 2003
November 6, 2003
November 7, 2003
November 8, 2003
November 15, 2003
November 18, 2003
November 23, 2003
November 24, 2003
November 28, 2003
November 29, 2003
December 1, 2003
Chapter 16: I Hurt
Chapter 17: Light
Chapter 18: I Am
Chapter 19: You Are
Chapter 20: The Beat
Chapter 21: The Field
Chapter 22: Vengeance
Chapter 23: Puppet
Chapter 24: The Sunset
Chapter 25: Ring
About the author
Connect with me Online
Chapter 1: The Red Door
Awaken
All he could remember was the flash! The white flash that blocked everything from sight. It blinded him and he had felt lost in its brilliance. He knew he had been in his car but where the light had come from, he could not say. But where he lay now was even more disturbing than the light. He was naked, not cold, but still naked. The room was small, extremely small and white. No other colour showed at all just white. He had wakened with a kink in his neck from the position he found his body. His head was pushed up against a wall and his legs were bent, with his knees pushed up against the opposite one.
He wasn't sure but he thought he had spent hours looking for a seam to a door, a vent, anything but to no avail. The room was maybe four feet by four feet with the ceiling just brushing his 6-foot frame when he stood. It was strange! Peculiar, how did he come to be here, he couldn't say? Was it a cell, a prison to hold him? If it were, what did he do to end up here? He couldn't remember.
"Hello," he yelled but his voice seemed to get swallowed up in the walls, not even a slight echo came in return. "Anyone, anyone, why am I here?" No answer came and he was unsure if he expected one.
"What’s going on, where is this place? What is this place, hello?"
He had yelled until his voice hurt, and until he could no longer swallow, and then he fell to his knees and sobbed. "Why, why, why,” he whispered his throat raw. He looked at his small prison, tears blurring his sight slightly. Slowly he climbed to his feet and walked to the wall and laid himself flat against it. "Let me out," he breathed into its surface, "Please let me out."
"Let me out!" he yelled again, his hands making fists which he then began to hammer against the surface. Bang, Bang, he repeated, his fist flying now, "Let me out! Let me out! LET ME OUT!" Using all his strength, he kept banging away his fist numb from the hammering.
He felt dizzy and fell to the floor, his head in his hands and, knees pulled up to his chest., he sat there. "Why?" he asked once more to the small empty room before everything went black, and he passed out. His last memory as he went under, "At least its not white.”
Hallway
He woke, his head hurt, and once more he lay with his neck kinked. Rubbing his neck he opened his eyes to look at his surroundings once again. Something was different! The room was still the same, still small, the ceiling still low but, there seemed to be a hallway off one wall. He looked at it suspiciously, trying to determine if it was really there. Getting on to his knees he slowly crawled the few feet to the opening and glance around the corner. It indeed was a hallway, at least a good 8 feet long; narrow though, maybe just wider than his shoulders but, a hallway none the less!
Slowly he climbed to his feet and stepped in. Like the room he left there was no doorways, no vents, no windows but, the ceiling was slightly higher. Reaching up, his fingers traced a path along the smooth ceiling as he walked down the short hall, staring at the smooth white walls. "What is this place," he asked himself quietly. Reaching the end of the hall he turned back around and looked at the room he just left. "Hello," he whispered. "Hello anyone." Shaking his head he sat down with his legs out in front of him. "At least I'm not hungry," he spoke aloud, "That’s strange isn't it!" he wondered out loud, "I've been here at least a day, I'm sure of it! Yet I'm not hungry or thirsty! What is this place?" he asked again. "Am I dead?"
He wondered at that last statement, how could he be dead, he could still feel his heart beating in his chest; he could still hear his breathing, and his neck and head hurt! If he were dead would he feel any of this? "No of course you're not dead, you're just being punished for something!" He tried to think back to before, but all he could remember was driving, then the blinding light, nothing else came to mind. Frustrated he shook his head and lightly banged it back against the wall he sat against numerous times.
"What have you done to do this?" he asked himself, he tried to say his own name but it was lost on his tongue, he couldn't seem to bring it out. Not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't, he didn't remember it! "That’s strange as well, isn't it?" he asked the wall. "Not knowing who you are, that is strange!" The wall of course did not answer and he frowned at it. "At least I can lay out to sleep now," and he did so, spr
eading his legs out down the hall, he rested his head on his arms and closed his eyes.
He slept.
Third Day
He woke and his head didn't hurt, his neck didn't hurt, but he was still within his prison. Unlike the day before when the hallway appeared, nothing seemed different today. He examined the walls of the hallway to be sure, slowly running his hands across the surface, his fingers feeling for any edge or ridge, finding none. Slowly he made his way back to the room and looked in not expecting anything to be different, and it wasn't. It was still the same, still 4 feet by 4 feet, still just over 6 feet high, still white!
He walked into the room and shaking his head, slid down the wall and sat on the floor once more. "Hello," he yelled now knowing no one would answer his call. "Do you remember your name today?" he asked out loud. He closed his eyes and thought about it. He could almost hear it, could almost grasp it but still his name was hidden just out of his reach. "You dumb, stupid bastard! What did you do to deserve this?"
He closed his eyes once more in thought, then opening them looked up at the ceiling, a sudden shocking thought coming to mind. "How long can I go on before I run out of air?" His eyes looked frantically around the room, "There must be a vent somewhere, air must be coming from somewhere, right?" Panic started to set in, "I'm going to die here! I'm going to suffocate!" His throat started to close up, and his breath became ragged, as he tried to draw in the air he imagined was no longer there. Slowly thing started to blur and he started gasping, "Don't let me die!" he managed to say before passing out once more, his body slumping to the floor.
What's to Become of Me
He woke again, and he took a large inhale, ensuring that the air still remained. It did. "Stupid," he cursed himself, "You're situation is bad enough without you imagining it worse!"
He climbed to his feet, his head brushing the ceiling. Like the day before he ran his fingers over every square inch of the walls in the room before moving into the hall. Still nothing was different, it was still all the same. "I'm tired of white!" he screamed, "Can I have another colour to look at?" The walls remained quiet, ignoring his questions.
Slowly at first he began to run down the hall, when he reached the end he turned and ran back to the room.
"One," he said, and he turned and repeated it, "Two." Over and over he continued counting as he went, "Forty one, Forty two." His legs pumping now, the blood flowing freely through his body, he picked up his pace, "Sixty eight, sixty nine, seventy." he yelled with ever loop. "I will not go crazy, seventy five, I will not go nuts, seventy six." He continued sweat started to bead on his chest, his head. "Ninety, ninety one," he yelled his legs pumping hard his lungs gasping now, "Ninety nine," turning he started down the hall one more time, "One hundred," he said quietly as he let his body collapse to the floor. "I will not let you break my spirits!" he yelled at the empty room, "No matter what you do to me, I will not break!"
He let his head fall on his arms and closed his eyes. He dreamt. He was in a car driving, the road seemed familiar, he must have driven it before. There was a light up ahead and as he watched, it turned red. He slowed his speed as he approached and stopped on the line. A song was playing on the radio and he sang to the chorus. Out of no where his car lurched forward, his head crashing backwards on the seat, as the car behind drove into his with such force and speed, that it forced him into the intersection. Then, the blinding light filled everything, his very being, his sight, all his senses!
The Mattress
He knew what had happened to him, it was a car accident; "A bloody car accident!" but it didn't explain the white room or hallway. He had discounted death, "This can't be death, God would not leave us like this, in our own little prisons to rot away, would he?" He stood up and began to pace the hall, his mind on the accident, "Did I know it was going to happen? Could I have avoided it?" He couldn't answer his questions, nor did he stop trying to. He was tired of the hallway, tired of the room. His mind left the accident as he looked at the walls again.
"How is it I see this? There is no light, so how is it I’m not in darkness?" His mind latched on, and he sank to his knees in the middle of the hallway. He tried to grasp on to anything that made sense, but he couldn't. No matter how he turned the situation, no answers came to him. Just like his name, it seemed to be just out of his reach.
He crawled to the room and stopped suddenly! A mattress filled the room from corner to corner. It was white, same as the walls and ceiling but it was there where a moment before it wasn't! "Who put this here?" he yelled through the room. Still no answer was given and he was left alone to contemplate the mattresses existence and, how it came to be here. He couldn't explain it; instead he crawled on to the mattress and with his feet still in the hallway, laid down on it. It was comfortable and he fell quickly asleep, his dreams when they came, took him back to his car accident.
The Ladder
The mattress felt good underneath him as he rolled over and stared up at the white ceiling above. The room was still small but, he felt more comfortable than he had the previous days. The mattress probably gave him that.
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten," he counted as he looked at his fingers and toes, "Eleven," he laughed looking down at his naked body. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven," he counted again, he couldn't seem to stop and continued once more. Next his attention turned to the room. "One, two, three, four, walls," he spoke and then turned to the hallway, "Five, six, seven," he stopped suddenly. At the end of the hall was a white ladder.
He stood up and looked at the ladder coming down from the ceiling. Slowly he walked to it and stared up. He could see the hole above and the white ceiling beyond. He hadn't touched it yet, and did so now feeling the curved rungs. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve," he counted. Looking over his shoulder at the room behind him, he shrugged and started climbing the twelve rungs.
He stopped when he reached the top and looked at the big room that opened up around him. It was bare, empty of everything except for a white couch pushed against a wall at the end of the room. He pulled himself up and walked slowly around the room, examining it. There were huge indents in the walls, that looked as if at one time windows stood there. Now however they just held more white wall. He ran his hand over the space hoping to feel something different than the walls, and was disappointed when he didn't.
Shrugging he turned and looked at the couch across the room. He examined it from afar. It looked as if it were leather and it was the exact same colour of white as the walls and ceiling were, just as the mattress below was. Slowly he walked across the floor, his feet making a slight pitter patter sound as he walked. The couch was puffy with three cushions for the seat. He looked at it then ran his hand along its surface trying to determine if indeed it was leather. Unsure of the material, he sat down and sank down into its comfort.
"Ahhh," he moaned aloud, "Now that’s more like it!" He sat there for along time before climbing back to his feet. He slowly walked around the room, his hand dragging along the surface, just as he had done before below, he searched for anything he couldn't see with the walls. And as before, he found nothing, the room was completely sealed, except for the hole in the floor which the top of the ladder extended from into the room. "Is this some sort of game?" he asked the room, "Am I suppose to figure this out, is it a puzzle that I'm to solve? What? What is this?" No one answered but then he knew no one would, "They hadn't answered before why would they now!"
He walked back to the couch and laid down on it, the ladder now forgotten, the lower rooms forgotten, he would never go back to their confines. "One, two, three, " he began counting his fingers and toes once more. His head wrapped around the counting and he slowly drifted off to sleep once more.
The Man
He woke the next day, he at least hoped it was the next day, becaus
e everything just seemed to blur together, maybe it was actually all the same day, he didn't know and it just seemed to hurt his head when he thought about it. He scanned the room and looked at the ladder in the floor, shaking his head at his predicament he continued with his scan and stopped, there was a door. In the centre of one of the walls stood a white door with white hinges, and a white door handle.
He climbed to his feet and walked to the doorway. He paused for a moment before reaching down to try the knob. He expected it to be locked but was surprised when it turned in his hand, and he pushed the door open. The first thing he noticed was a man sitting in a white wing chair in the middle of the room. He was completely dressed in white, even his shoes were white. A paper was held in his hands blocking the view of his face.
"Hello," he spoke to the man. There was no answer. "Excuse me! Hello!" he said again, anger rising to the surface when once again there was no answer. He rushed across the small room and went to smash the paper away. His hand crashed down and it felt like he struck stone. The paper didn't even ripple and his hand exploded with pain. "What the hell!" he screamed, as he held his hand in the other trying to ease the pain. Still the man didn't speak. He walked around until he could see the mans face, he was shocked! The man's face looked as if it were carved from marble, every line, every crease in his face stood out looking real, but were in fact carved.
"Hello," he said once more quietly, carefully he reached over and with the tip of his finger pressed the mans face. The man didn't move at all, and the skin didn't feel like skin, never gave like skin; it really did look as if the man was a type of stone. "Well," he said surprised, "what else am I going to encounter here?" He looked at the statue, for that was what it had to be, a very good statue but a statue nonetheless. Even the paper he held looked real, the type on it was white raised gibberish, nothing he could understand.
"That looks like a mighty comfortable chair you have there," he said to the statue, "I hope you don't mind if I move you so I can sit do you? I didn't think so!" he said with a laugh as he pushed hard against the stone shoulder to topple the statue out of the chair. It wouldn't budge, and he grunted in exertion in his effort to move the statue. No matter how he tried, he could not budge it at all, and after what must have been 15 minutes, he finally gave up. "Well, I guess you do mind!"