Hey, I fiqure if im gonna post my own stories why not put other peoples stories in the spotlight to! Check out Pip's awesome story Pressure.
http://forum.thesims3.com/jforum/posts/list/322824.page
(You have to copy and paste. Blogger doesnt like to let my links work. >_<)
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Mother: An Entry for Taking it to the Limit writing compettion
The assignment we were asked to pic a song from one of the 2 bands Three Days grace or Pillar. I chose the song home.
I thought of the Idea for this story cause in the song thier is this seemingly controling fiqure. This character became "Mommy"
Here is the Story:
Sitting here, breathing. She'll be home soon. I light another cigarette. I would be drinking but I drank the last bottle of whiskey bone dry. Then the lights shine into my room, illuminating the dark. I see how filthy my room is. Maybe it wouldn't be if she wasn't always screaming into my ear about it. My fingers twitch, I'm getting restless from the drugs. "LEROY!!!" My lord. Thumping up the steps, I hear her approaching. "Why didn't you clean your room young man?!" "Mother, I'm 24. You can't just tell me what to do anymore." I retort. "When you get your own place you can trash it, not my house" mother snaps. She pulls the cigarette from my mouth. I blow the smoke into her face, it wafts into her nose and mouth.
She breaths out sharply and drops the cigarette, stomps on it with her 4-inch heel. "Don't you EVER do that again." She connects her hand to my face hard and quick, it sends a shockwave through not only my face, but my mind. I've had enough of this crap. I never do anything right, why must it be me. Ever since dad died she's been a royal bitch. "Mom, I'm getting tired of your shit!" "Watch your mouth!" Another blow to the face. I wince in pain and anger. "MOTHER FUC-" BAM! This time she hits me with her purse in which she has a bible and 2 water bottles. "Son, why MUST you misbehave?" That's it.
I grab her by the hand and twist her hand backward. I hear a crack. It's too late to realize what I'm doing but it's already done. She attempts to scream for help but I cover her mouth with a nearby baggie that formerly had my drug supply in it. She starts to suffocate. I feel too powerful to stop now. I keep the bag on her lips and I grab her nose. I twist slowly until it fractures. She is moving slower, slower, slower.... She's gone. I've done it. I'm now a murderer. I can't just turn myself in that's a one way ticket to jail for damn near the rest of my life. I need to hide her.
Dump her in the creek? No, they'll find her. At this point I'm not sure whether I like the bitch mother more or the lifeless one. I've got it! The old cabin we never go to anymore. Since dad passed away there's been no reason to. Mother never liked the outdoors. I go down stairs with mothers arm around my shoulders like I'm helping her walk, I then load her in the back seat and head off. CAW CAW! I screech to the side of the road. Something still collided with the windshield though. It was a crow, the bird of death. Was this a sign? A sign that my mother was meant to die? Or a sign that I messed up deaths plan? I didn't have time to worry. 45 minutes later I arrive at the cabin. I drag mother in there from the car. It smells musty from 6 years of no cleaning and abandonment. We, me and mother go past the stuffed ducks dad shot, and past the old TV set to. Me and dad would always watch the weather so we could decide to go fishing or not. I open up the hatch to the basement and we descend the hard, cold steps.
Our old boat was down there, I decide to conceal her within it. I turn it around and out jumps a family of rats, scurrying about. I move mother into there and think of all the horrible times we had. I was actually glad she was dead. Walking up the stairs I felt a chill. This creped me out so I hurried up the rest of the stairs and closed the hatch behind me. Walking out the door to go home I hear a faint voice.... "LeRoy.... Mommy loves you"
I thought of the Idea for this story cause in the song thier is this seemingly controling fiqure. This character became "Mommy"
Here is the Story:
Sitting here, breathing. She'll be home soon. I light another cigarette. I would be drinking but I drank the last bottle of whiskey bone dry. Then the lights shine into my room, illuminating the dark. I see how filthy my room is. Maybe it wouldn't be if she wasn't always screaming into my ear about it. My fingers twitch, I'm getting restless from the drugs. "LEROY!!!" My lord. Thumping up the steps, I hear her approaching. "Why didn't you clean your room young man?!" "Mother, I'm 24. You can't just tell me what to do anymore." I retort. "When you get your own place you can trash it, not my house" mother snaps. She pulls the cigarette from my mouth. I blow the smoke into her face, it wafts into her nose and mouth.
She breaths out sharply and drops the cigarette, stomps on it with her 4-inch heel. "Don't you EVER do that again." She connects her hand to my face hard and quick, it sends a shockwave through not only my face, but my mind. I've had enough of this crap. I never do anything right, why must it be me. Ever since dad died she's been a royal bitch. "Mom, I'm getting tired of your shit!" "Watch your mouth!" Another blow to the face. I wince in pain and anger. "MOTHER FUC-" BAM! This time she hits me with her purse in which she has a bible and 2 water bottles. "Son, why MUST you misbehave?" That's it.
I grab her by the hand and twist her hand backward. I hear a crack. It's too late to realize what I'm doing but it's already done. She attempts to scream for help but I cover her mouth with a nearby baggie that formerly had my drug supply in it. She starts to suffocate. I feel too powerful to stop now. I keep the bag on her lips and I grab her nose. I twist slowly until it fractures. She is moving slower, slower, slower.... She's gone. I've done it. I'm now a murderer. I can't just turn myself in that's a one way ticket to jail for damn near the rest of my life. I need to hide her.
Dump her in the creek? No, they'll find her. At this point I'm not sure whether I like the bitch mother more or the lifeless one. I've got it! The old cabin we never go to anymore. Since dad passed away there's been no reason to. Mother never liked the outdoors. I go down stairs with mothers arm around my shoulders like I'm helping her walk, I then load her in the back seat and head off. CAW CAW! I screech to the side of the road. Something still collided with the windshield though. It was a crow, the bird of death. Was this a sign? A sign that my mother was meant to die? Or a sign that I messed up deaths plan? I didn't have time to worry. 45 minutes later I arrive at the cabin. I drag mother in there from the car. It smells musty from 6 years of no cleaning and abandonment. We, me and mother go past the stuffed ducks dad shot, and past the old TV set to. Me and dad would always watch the weather so we could decide to go fishing or not. I open up the hatch to the basement and we descend the hard, cold steps.
Our old boat was down there, I decide to conceal her within it. I turn it around and out jumps a family of rats, scurrying about. I move mother into there and think of all the horrible times we had. I was actually glad she was dead. Walking up the stairs I felt a chill. This creped me out so I hurried up the rest of the stairs and closed the hatch behind me. Walking out the door to go home I hear a faint voice.... "LeRoy.... Mommy loves you"
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