Hope, Depression, Love & Fractured Hearts: A Collection of Short Stories & Other Pieces of Writing

by Bradley Atchison

  He sat on the floor so he could see the face and body, and he looked at it. It was incredible, so life like, if he didn't know better the clothes even looked real, but he knew it was carved, so the pant leg really didn't fall and crease against the leg it was carved that way. The hands looked delicate with individual hairs showing on the fingers, so very life like. He was amazed at the skill put into the carving; he had never seen such detail before.

  It was hours that he sat and looked at the man as if waiting for movement, but none ever came. Finally he crawled to his feet. "I’m off to sleep now, I hope you don't mind?" he questioned the statue. "I can't sleep in here though, you freak the hell out of me, but if you want me I'll be on the couch in the other room." He turned and walked to the door, he was going to leave it open but thought differently, and pulled it closed behind him. The couch looked inviting and he was almost asleep as soon as his head hit the cushion on the couch.

  The Dream

  It started the same as before, he was stopped at the light when all of a sudden his head gets thrown back into the seat. His car shot forward and then the blinding light. It didn't stop there this time though, nor did he wake then. The room was cloudy, almost as if a mist seemed to fill the room. The ceiling was tiled and he lay on a bed. An older man gray with age stood over him, his glasses were on the end of his nose and he held a clipboard. A young woman stood beside him, concern lined her pretty face. She had beautiful greenish grey eyes, and she kept sweeping back her dark reddish hair off her face. They were talking in whispers which he could just make out.

  "When will he come out of it?" she asked.

  "I can't say, these things are hard to determine, there are so many factors and we are only just beginning to understand them. He could come out tomorrow, maybe next year. I can't tell you with any certainty!"

  "But with today’s technology, today’s knowledge, how can that be!" she asked hysterically, tears started to form in her eyes.

  "Miss Anderson, I can understand your concern, all I can tell you is that he took a hard blow to the head, it caused swelling in the brain. That swelling is still there, day-by-day it slowly recedes but, it is still putting stress on his brain. When it finally recedes completely he may come out, he may not, all we can do is wait."

  "This is unbearable! He’s my fiancé! We are to be married next month and you're telling me he may never wake up! He is my only one, how can you tell me this?"

  She sobbed heavily and her knees must have buckled for she fell below his vision. The older man knelt down, "Miss Anderson, please, I know this is hard, I know that I never answered your questions, but we are doing everything we possibly can to make him get better!"

  "Its just so hard." she mumbled into the older mans shoulder, "He is my family, my only family!"

  The older man helped her to her feet, "I'm sorry Miss Anderson but I need to finish my rounds, there is a small chapel on the third floor and a young priest there, maybe you should talk to him, he might be able to help you understand this." Before she could answer he stepped back and looked at her somberly, "We are doing the best for him, if he is capable of getting better, we will make it so." The man turned and left the room leaving the young woman alone, sobbing. She wiped her eyes and leaned over to look at him.

  "Don't you dare leave me! You told me we are forever! Don't you dare leave me Steven, I love you, I need you!" Tears started to form again in her eyes, and one fell and landed on his lips, he was sure he could taste the salt. "I'll die without you," she whispered before leaning over and kissing away the teardrop. "I love you Steven, I got to go but I'll be back later today." again she kissed him before turning and leaving him empty in the room.

  The dream slowly faded and he found himself awake. "Steven," he spoke aloud, trying the name on his tongue, "I could be a Steven," he laughed. "It sounds like it might fit." The dream was already fading from his mind but he held on to Miss Anderson, her and her greenish grey eyes.

  The Kerchief

  Steven climbed from the couch and danced around the room, "My name is Steven," he sang out, "I know who I am, I'm Steven!" He continued his dance and then began to run around the room, "One, two," he yelled out laughing as he made a complete circle around the room. He continued until he got to twenty and his legs were burning slightly. He fell to the floor and laughed as he kicked his feet and waved his arms frantically above him, as he squirmed on the floor. "I am Steven," he yelled once more.

  Steven let his arms and legs fall to the floor as the elation was swept away. Yes he knew his name, but it still did not help his situation here! He was still stuck in a door less and windowless building with no knowledge, on how he got here. "Why!" he yelled angrily to the empty room, "Why the hell am I here! Why can't you just let me go? Just let me go," he said with a choke in his voice, "I just want to be let go."

  No one answered, no one acknowledged, no one even came to see what the yelling was about, there was no one there. "That’s not quite true," Steven told himself, "I have stone boy next door still!" He climbed to his feet and walked to the door and opened it, "Right stone boy, I've got you don't I, you big freak!" He ran at the man sitting in the chair and though he knew it would hurt, swung full bore at the head connecting just behind the ear. The pain exploding in his hand but he didn't care. "How’s that stone boy, see you don't scare me!"

  He danced and weaved around the statue his hands up like a boxer. He swung out in the air and weaved some more, his hands going up to block his head from some imagined attack. "Fly like a butterfly, sting like a bee!" he screamed as he took another swing at the statue, this time connecting with its nose, again pain exploded in his hand. "Ahh, you’re a tough one stone boy," he wheezed as he held his hand with the other as he tried to stop the throbbing. He glanced at the statue then stopped suddenly. It was no longer completely white!

  The pain in his hand was ignored as Steven stood up tall and walked to the statue. He was indeed no longer completely white, his jacket and pants and shoes still were white, his shirt and tie, none of it had changed but now he had a yellow kerchief in the pocket. Steven looked at the kerchief afraid to touch it; afraid it wasn't really there. Slowly he reached out to touch it and the kerchief moved, it wasn't carved it was real! Steven pulled his hand back quickly as if burned, but then reached back to the kerchief and pulled.

  The kerchief slid easily out of the stone-carved pocket into Steven's hand. Steven looked at it, turned it over and over again in his hand, feeling the texture, it felt like silk. He felt strange, the only piece of material here, and it was a kerchief, he Steven, was still naked, but he had a kerchief. He laughed, laughed out hard, laughed out loud, he shook with humor as he felt the kerchief in his hand. The yellow seemed to burn brightly compared to the room’s whiteness and though it was only a kerchief, Steven was happy to have it.

  "It must be my birthday!" he shouted, "first I find my name, then I find this yellow kerchief, it really must be my birthday. What more could a man want than his name and a kerchief? HOW ABOUT CLOTHES, HOW ABOUT A WAY OUT, HUH! Why can't I have those instead of this shitty little snot rag! HUH, tell me why! God damn it, somebody answer me for once!" he shouted.

  He turned back to the statue his anger starting to subside, "At least I won't have to look at your ugly mug anymore," he grumbled as he spread it across the statues head and covered its face. "You look much better now!" he laughed.

  Steven crossed the room back to the door and crossed the threshold, slamming the door closed behind him, once more shutting the man in the other room off from him. He moved to the couch and plopped himself down on its cushions. Rubbing his hands together trying to relieve the pain that had came back to his hands, he spoke to the empty room once more. "Let me sleep, maybe then I can see Miss Anderson again, and maybe this time she won't be looking down on me, but I'll be looking down at her, with her under me!" He closed his eyes and laid his head down and tried to sleep.

 
Alive

  Steven did sleep, but no dreams came to him, or if they did, he did not remember them. He laid on the couch his eyes open, he was wide-awake but he did not get up. "What’s the point," he asked himself, "nothing will have changed and if it has, I will still be in a door less, windowless room!" So he stayed on the couch, his mind wandered but where he could not say, it would touch briefly here or there only to jump again. He gave up trying to follow its path and instead blanked it all out.

  "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten ...eleven," he giggled as he counted fingers and toes. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten."

  "I'm going crazy!" he thought to himself, "Why the hell am I counting fingers, my toes, my cock! What the hells wrong with you Steven? They want you to go crazy, don't let them win, hold on man, hold on!"

  He pushed himself off the couch, not because he wanted to, but more to get the counting out of his head. He walked the room, back and forth, back and forth, his eyes on the door, never leaving it as he walked. "What are you afraid of? He's stone, why are you afraid of going in there today?" He couldn't answer that question so instead he paced and stared. Back and forth, back and forth his feet shuffled across the floor, finally what seemed like an eternity he sighed and turned towards the doorway. He crossed the distance quickly and pushed opened the door.

  "I say, I was wondering when you were going to come in." the statue spoke as Steven walked into the room.

  Steven stumbled and fell to the floor, his eyes wild, his heart beating hard in his chest, so hard he could hear it in his ears! "Who, who, who are you?" he managed to mumble.

  "Who am I Steven, who am I? What kind of question is that, you know who I am!" the statue, the man, said as he placed his paper down on the floor and stood up. Steven noticed that the yellow kerchief was in the pocket of his white suit and he felt awkward. He was still naked and the statue was up walking around dressed in a suit and tie, his shoes clicking on the floor as he walked. "Why are you naked man? Are you not civilized that you go around naked all the time?"

  "I ...I ...I have nothing to wear," he stuttered quietly.

  "You have nothing! What is in the dressers, what’s in the closet then?" the man asked pointing to a dresser and closet against one wall of the room. "What are they full of then?" he asked mockingly.

  Steven stared at the closet and the dresser, slowly he stood up and walked to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer. He looked inside and found dozens of pairs of underwear, all the same colour, all the same style. He took a pair out and pulled on the white briefs, they fit him perfectly. In the next drawer were white dress socks and again he pulled them on. Next he turned to the closet and opened the white bifold doors. Inside, hanging was a white silk shirt and tie, next to them was a pristine white suit, similar to the mans suit.

  Steven looked back at stone boy as he called him and noticed the annoyed look on his face as he motioned Steven to get dressed. Steven gingerly took the shirt off its hanger and pulled it on, the fit was perfect he noticed as he buttoned the front and then the cuffs. The pants he took out of the suit jacket and pulled them on, they were a little big in the waist but that was what the white belt was for in the closet. The suit had hidden it but there it hung on a hanger just behind the suit jacket. He fed the belt through the loops and did the buckle. Next came the tie, his fingers shook and no matter how he tried, he just couldn't get the tie done up.

  The man shook his head and walked over quickly. "I can't believe you can't do a simple thing like get dressed!" He took the tie from Stevens hands and wrapped it around his neck and deftly tied a Windsor knot, "There you go," he said as he handed the jacket to Steven, "Now you look like a proper gentleman!" He stood back and gave Steven the once over, "Yes indeed a gentleman now! Lets sit, let’s talk," he said motioning to a small white wicker table and chairs that Steven hadn't noticed before.

  Steven followed the man to the table and sat opposite him, "Who are you?" he asked again.

  "You know me Steven, I've told you that, so lets leave that issue alone now. Tell me why are you here?" and he motioned to the room.

  Steven shrugged, "I don't know, I don't know where here is! Its all white, everything, do you know why?"

  "Steven," he said with a laugh, "I'm only here because of you, the reason for everything I cannot say, I am your guest, you brought me here, not the other way around."

  Now Steven was confused, the statue had surprised him today, what with being real but he had hoped that answers would come now. "So you don't know why I'm here, or even where here is?"

  The man shook his head, "You have the answers to that Steven, not I. Tell me now, why is it you brought me here?"

  Steven didn't know how to answer, couldn't answer so only shrugged his shoulders at the question. "All I know is I woke up here, I've called for days but no one answers me, you are the first person I've seen, and yesterday you were carved stone! I think I'm going crazy, there are no windows no doors out of here, hell I don't even know how I was placed in here!"

  Steven looked at the man to get his reaction and startled, fell back with his chair as he scrambled away. The man no longer sat before him, but the statue once more sat in his place. The table and chairs still remained but the drawers and closet were gone, the white wing chair still sat in the middle of the room, but now empty, the paper that the statue had held was on the floor beside. The only difference was the statue was now sitting on the table chair instead of the wing chair.

  "What the hell is this!" he screamed in to the empty room, "What, am I truly going crazy? Am I dead, am I, what, tell me someone!" no answer came.

  The clothes he still wore, and in anger, he ripped the tie from his neck and threw it on the floor before him. "I don't understand, please, I don't understand." he spoke as he fell to the floor and cried, "Let me out, let me out, let me out."

  The rest of the day he sat on the couch his legs pulled to his chest, arms holding them in place. His body seemed to vibrate and he rocked back and forth, back and forth. The only words he muttered were, "Why, why," over and over again but he did not hear what he said, his head lost in the blinding light that filled him.

  The Voice

  Steven didn't know when he fell asleep, he couldn't remember. Everything about the day before was a blur, he wasn't even sure if it happened. When he woke he found himself naked once more, the clothes from yesterday were no longer on him, and though he remembered putting them on, he couldn't quite get himself to believe that it really happened. He had walked to the other room and opened the door expecting to have the statue alive once more but what he found made him question the reality of the day before. The wicker table and chairs were gone and the statue once again sat in the white wing chair holding the paper before him.

  Steven was going crazy! He questioned everything, his life. Had he really had one? He couldn't remember, it seemed all a blur now, like some wishful thought, a dreamed reality. This world was the only one he knew now and it filled him so much it must have been the only one he had. The white walls, white ceiling, white floor, was there another colour? Even the yellow kerchief was gone, "If it even existed!" he told himself.

  Though he vowed not to, Steven walked to the ladder in the floor and looked down. Nothing seemed different, but still he found his feet on the rungs and he descended. The hallway was the same as well as the room, the mattress still filled the room wall to wall but nothing else was different. Steven sat on the mattress for a while before shaking his head and climbing back up the ladder.

  "Come to me Steven," a voice floated through the room, “come back to me." it seemed to whisper.

  Steven stopped suddenly, straining to hear, hoping to hear, fearing it was only his mind.

  "Please Steven, I need you,” the voice whispered again.

  "Hello," he called back, "Can you hear me?" The voice didn't answer his question but it didn't go away either. Instead
it whispered, "I love you Steven, why won't you come back."

  "I will, I will come back, show me, how do I get out of here?" he yelled as he ran through the two rooms looking for the source of the voice. "I'm here, I'm here, help me please, help me find you!"

  "Do you remember Steven, do you remember the day in the rain, how we danced in the rain? That was the day I knew! The day I knew I loved you. It was that day that I decided I would marry you, though you didn't ask until a year later, I knew that day! We were so silly, so childish, the way the rain ran down your face and collected on your upper lip. Do you remember Steven, do you remember that day?"

  Steven didn't, "Why don't I," he asked himself. He also wondered if the voice was miss Anderson’s voice he heard. Maybe he wasn't Steven, maybe this voice wasn't meant for him. "I'm here," he yelled again, "I’m here, tell me where to go, I want to come to you!"

  The voice didn't answer and slowly it disappeared completely, and he heard it no more. "No," he screamed, "don't go, don't leave me alone again, I don't want to be alone!" Sobbing now, Steven continued to yell as he ran along the walls searching for anything that would explain where the voice had come from. "Please come back, please come back, please come back." His voice was raw when he finally stopped, the voice wasn't coming back and he was left alone once more.

  Days

  Days had gone by, Steven was sure of it, days since the statue came alive, days since the yellow kerchief, days since the voice. How did he know? He wasn't sure, he had lost count of how many times he slept, it didn't matter though, he had nothing to base a day on. The rooms never changed, the lighting was always the same, the temperature never varied, he was never hungry. He had nothing to determine the passage of time, only his sleep and that was a bad indicator at that.