epinephrin

Thanks man. Woulda done the same if I knew it existed.

I dunno about competitions or anything, but I wrote this recently and I'd like to see your thoughts on it. First story I've ever wrote: Forgiveness and Compasssion Sean Elihu took one last breath of his cigarette. Stress had the kid caring a lot more about avoiding another anxiety attack than some cancer that might put him on a deathbed if he survived the next few decades. The nicotine high felt something graceful, like absolution from sin. He put the ash out on his clothes and flicked the butt as he could, as if the farther he threw it the farther he could cast away the evils. If Sean was concerned about his own wrongdoings he could just go to confession. But how can a man redeem offenses that are not his own? It’s been two lonely years since he’d been kicked and left homeless to support himself. Most of the time extended family and friends were kind enough to let him sleep on their couch and have a few good meals, but nothing felt more shameful than leeching off of people’s sentiments. He should be supported by his own flesh and blood, but he wasn’t able to coexist with a once loving father turned monster who abused his wife and daughter. Instead the only place he could call home was a state of mind consumed by rage and torment. He never smiled, never frowned, and never spoke unless obligated to, but inside was a quiet storm. Sean’s stomach rumbled as he made the sign of the cross and began say what could be his last prayer. He begged God to properly heal the wounds of his baby sister in the hospital. Her suicide attempt would probably leave scarring down her arms. He also had to be thankful that he didn’t have to grow up anymore in such a cold household filled with suffering. The priest told him that Christ didn’t die for our sins so we could seek vengeance. Obviously Sean no longer held the same view of the Savior. To him, God couldn’t care enough to listen to his prayers every night, but He did expect justice to be upheld. This was Sean’s duty to embody Divine Wrath upon a wicked man, and he refused to eat or sleep until his father was repaid twofold. Finally Sean peeked through the window and spotted his father rolling his car into the driveway. It was time for a more passionate hunger to be satisfied. Moments later he clutched his knife as his father opened the front door. The guy dropped his keys on the ground and looked like he saw a ghost. Sean knocked him out with the blunt side of his weapon. Sometime later Mr. Elihu woke up with both hands tied to each arm of a chair. Towels were placed all over the floor. Sean sat across, facing him, while sipping on a glass of scotch. “Cut me free right now and I won’t press any charges.” “You’ve dishonored my family. Shamelessly hurt women—my mother and little sister. And now your emotional scarring on that little girl has left her thinking she’s got nothing to live for. I used to love you, Dad. You were everything I could dream to be in a man. And now look at you. I’m gonna cut you free of something a lot worse than that chair you’re tied to… I’m gonna bring you closer to God. And considering what that little girl’s done to herself because of you, I figured justice should be poetic.” Sean took his blade and sliced it down father’s forearms. The blood dripped down and was soaked up by the towels on the floor. He shook his head as Mr. Elihu screamed and cried in pain. “What do you want from me?! This is murder!” A hot iron was forced against his forearms, cauterizing the wound, stopping the bleeding, and leaving charred, peeling skin. “I heard your daughter didn’t even cry when she did this to herself. Shut the hell up and show some dignity. Like I said before, I’m here to free you. Not kill you. You show no remorse for everything you’ve done, and expect to continue hurting the people I love. And no church or pastor can save you because of that. So this will continue until you convince me you’re going to change your ways.” The same thing happened again and again for hours. The room reeked of fresh blood, which could no longer be contained by the towels. Every time a little bit of that fury in the father’s eyes faded away. Only a sad look and a twinkle remained. He was pale white, and muttering inaudible prayers. The wounds started digging deeper into muscle tissue. Every time the iron pressed against his skin it smelled like freshly cooked steak. Suddenly, in a soft, raspy voice, he spoke “I’m… I’m sorry. I never wanted to be a parent. I got your mother pregnant, and tried to be a dad. But I guess I never really had the guts in the long run. After a couple decades I grew sick of having mouths to feed, and watching my youth and chance for success fade away. It was never your guys’ faults. I could have brought you guys up in a great family, but I was too selfish. I wanna… I wanna be a good father. I love my family, especially after the years of burden and torment I’ve given you. Oh God …” Sean never cried before. A man can’t let his emotions get in the way of what he has to do. But this time he couldn’t control the tears which flowed down his face into the puddles of blood all over the floor. It was the first time he could remember smiling, too. “Dad I… Dad? Oh God!”

I know I missed the last one because of family crap, but I should be down as long as there's a set date I can schedule.