this is the writer's cove...so i wanted to try something different...something else that i am working on... a story... all i ask you to do is reply with suggestions after my every post which will be a part of my story...here is just the background... Chris (i like the name) wasn't leading an ordinary life for a real long time.What seemed long to him, would only seem two weeks to others. Chris was a confused boy anyway, but such a serious matter had taken the best of him and also, nearly, his life. Two weeks back was Chris's big night. The high school prom night. He had never been out with anyone, for the nervous wreck that he was, but that night, even though he walked straight in without a partner, he would enjoy...he swore to himself, he would. And he did. He danced, ate, played games, made friends, took them out and finally, got drunk. And then the worst part just had to come and ruin Chris's first night of pure enjoyment... Beer and the keys to his friends car. He didn't want to drive at first. But none of his friends wanted to either. And being the new guy in this gang of friends, he was left with no choice. He got in the Mustang, and wasn't very comfortable at first. But what the heck! Only tonight. This would be the first and the last time he would do it. He nervously pushed the key in place and the engine roared to a start. Yeh...only tonight...just tonight. He kept thinking to himself and before he knew it, he was on the road, with wild, completely drunken friends cheering him on and making him reach speeds of 70 miles/hr. Chris was numb, and a guy of his capability, wouldn't realize what were his limits when he was numb. The roads were clear that summer night. The afternoon heat was fading and you could predict it by the moist air and the rusty smell of Mr. Smith's garden. It was so strong that it poured over the entire neighbourhood, but no one really hated that. Afterall, Mr.Smith did have a beautiful garden, and his masterpiece only made the neighbourhood look alive. But he did have in his possession something else,that usually a man like Mr.Smith wouldn't have. And presently, Mr Smith was worried... worried about his greater prized possession.
cont. 1 Mr. Smith had been worried about his boy ever since his younger daughter died, which was about nine years back. It was a fatal disease that had been growing in her, and was only discovered till it was too late. Chris believed it was his fault, for at that time, when the girl showed the first symptoms of death, he was right beside her. People around him told him that it wasn't true, but it was as if he wanted to be blamed...as if he forced others to blame him. And he was always the same tensed kid that he was now. Even at the age of 19, Mr.Smith would never leave Chris out alone. Chris was incapable of handling himself, and he had so much anger in him. Anger that went quiet all the time. Mr. Smith knew that Chris was angry with himself, that he had let gone of his sister's life. He also knew that the degree of anger that was stored within this young lad would, one day, be disastrous. It would destroy himself and all that surrounded him. It would be monstrous and Chris...his only son, would be the monster.
The gleaming highway lamps burned their way through Chris's eyes. He didn't feel it piercing and was helbent at reaching higher speeds. He had to enjoy...then something just bolted into him, something like a sharp lightening strike. He could feel it tear through his body and flow through his blood, run like cold frost over his veins and burn his brain to a flame. His eyes grew wide and wider, till his eyeballs almost popped out. "I'm free... I can ride through this...I'm free..." Chris never got these thoughts before, but somehow, they forced thier way about and into him. He never felt so agitated, never so... so...ANGRY. Angry, that was what Chris was. Angry. And he couldn't hear, that night, the angry screaming truck drivrers, the roaring fast old Mustang engine, the fast and chill air running through his hair. He couldn't hear the screams. The shouts of pain and death, that filled the air around the Airport highway, and was locked in with the humidity. It echoed about the bare broad road... but Chris seemed paralysed to it all. He didn't hear the warning, didn't see the old rusted blue car drive right in front of him... he just felt like jumping off the car, a second before the blazes went wild...and he did. He got out alive. Maybe, alive, but not the same. Not the same for the rest of life. Chris found something in himself that night, yet lost everything he had ever had.
Mr. Smith would have been happy to see his son having fun, if only he was given a chance longer than a fraction of a second. Yes, he was the unlucky victim of Chris's uncontrolled frustration. He was the man in the other car. Chris was there behind the bushes all along. He saw a trucker stop, a loud ambulance and four dead friends. The police and fire fighters were soon on the scene, but not soon enough. The quiet Airport highway, turned in a very short ten minutes, a crime scene, a death scene, a murder scene... a scene Chris couldn't forget for the rest of his life. The bodies of four melted young men was a disaster for Chris. Only the bigger disaster shattered Chris that very instant. His dad, Mr.Smith, was being brought out from the calmed blazes, charred piece by charred piece. He didn't recognize the body. He couldn't recognize anything in the molten diplay. The last he saw of father, whom he had recognized before the tragedy, was his horrified look, behind the window ... behind the window of the old rusted blue car, that now sizzled to a silence as the fire was brought to a complete stop.