“The Lottery” “A Good Man is Hard to Find” “The Yellow Wallpaper” “Bullet in the Brain” The morning of June 27th was clear and sunny, with the fresh warmth of a full-summer day; the flowers were blossoming profusely, and the grass was richly green. School was recently over for the summer, and I was at The Tower, the best place to eat in the small town where I live. The worn out sign hung precariously above the door and read, TRY RED SAMMY'S FAMOUS BARBECUE. NONE LIKE FAMOUS RED SAMMY'S! RED SAM! THE FAT BOY WITH THE HAPPY LAUGH. A VETERAN! RED SAMMY'S YOUR MAN! My friends, Luann and Greta, were going to come and meet me there and we were going to spend the night at a lake house owned by the parents of Greta’s boyfriend. “Hey, Sammy, I’m going out back for a smoke,” I called, hopping of my stool, and heading to door. “If my friends come in let them know, will you?” "Yes'm, I suppose so," Red Sam said. My tank top stuck to my body in the summer heat, and sweat rolled down the side of my face as I smoked. Behind the Tower was a huge baseball field, and a couple of boys were just leaving, covered in dirt, and sweat. The town of Jackson was in the middle of nowhere, and was surrounded by rolling hills and tree. The Tower was on the edge, so it was deserted once the boys left. I couldn’t wait to get out of here and into college. I dropped the cigarette butt on the ground when I was done and stomped on it with my boot. I had only taken two steps when something hit me in the back of the head. Shit, is the only thing I thought before I blacked out. Heat. A baseball field. Yellow grass, the whir of insects, myself leaning against a tree as the boys of the neighborhood gather for a pickup game. I wanted to join in, but they just laughed in my face. The tree pokes into my back, and the sun shines directly into my face. I am angry and bored. My big brother glances at me and says something, but I can’t hear him. I came to slowly, the world coming back bit by bit. The dream is already gone and forgotten. The first thing that caught my attention was the pounding in the back of my head. Groaning, I rolled to my side and came face first with a blue pillow. My eyes popped open and raised my head, taking in my surroundings. It looked to be a bedroom, huge and airy. There was a window to my right with bars across them, filtering in the sunlight. There was a small window to the left also. There wasn’t much in the room, just the bed I was on, a bedside table, and a dresser that looked like it was going to fall apart any second. Crawling to the edge of the bed, and unsteadily took to my feet. Out of one window I can see the garden, those mysterious deep-shaded arbors, the riotous old-fashioned flowers, and bushes and gnarly trees. “What the hell?” I muttered, rubbing my face, my headache growing worse. Before I could figure what to do next, large thumps came from somewhere outside the room, like someone was coming up a flight of stairs. Panic clawed at my throat and I dove back into the bed and closed my eyes. The door to my room creaked as it opened, and my heart raced in my chest. A minute of silence went by, and then another. I hesitantly raised my head after the silence continued, and looked up at my captor. His hair was just beginning to gray and he wore silver- rimmed spectacles that gave him a scholarly look. He had a long-creased face and didn't have on any shirt or undershirt. He had on blue jeans that were too tight for him and was holding a black hat and a gun. When my eyes landed on the gun, I threw myself against the headboard. “Stay the hell away from me!” I snarl to seem like I’m not scared shitless. His face stays impassive, so I have no idea what he’s thinking. “Why did you kidnap me?” I asked, my voice wavering. “What do you want from me?” My kidnapper remained silent, his blue eyes trained into mine, bright and piercing. My hands dug into the sheets as the staring contest went on, until he broke out into a smile that made my stomach turn. He approached me as I cringed back, prepping myself in case I needed to protect myself. His hand reached out to caress my cheek, his palm rough and calloused. He looked at me with a fond smile, then turned and left the room. *I am aware that there is no ending, but it was getting long. I might continue working on it and post more later
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Elijah CarneyI will use this blog to explore course readings. Archives
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