Hey, this is a short story I wrote, let me know what you think.
Help from the past.
Simon woke groggily to the sound of his phone beeping. As he answered the phone he was still half asleep, but by the end of the call, he was wide awake.
“Hello? Simon Taylor?” The person on the other end of the call asked.
“Speaking.” Simon replied, frustrated at being woken up.
“Hello Simon, I’m Sophie Clarke, calling from the social services. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Ruby Stone died a week ago...” She paused, letting Simon take in this new information, but he only appeared confused.
“Ruby Stone... The mother of your son.” Sophie told him, uncertainly.
“Oh.” He suddenly realised what she was talking about, and didn’t know what to say. He had had a short relationship with Ruby nearly fifteen years previously... Why would he be notified of her death now? Then he remembered, the son.
“Well, as you are the father, it has been suggested that Sam comes to live with you, considering he has no other family...”
“Me? Look after a child? You must be joking...” Simon laughed.
However, after a long phone call, Sophie finally persuaded Simon to give parenthood a chance, and it was arranged that Sophie would deliver Sam the next day.
A year later, Sam, now fifteen, came in from the farm and started shouting with fury when he saw Simon was still in bed.
“You’re meant to be the parent!” Sam screamed. “You’re meant to have to get me out of bed! How can I live with someone so lazy?! And so untidy! Look at your room! The animals are cleaner than you, you filthy little ...” At that comment, Simon got extremely angry and snapped. The affects of the night-before’s alcohol had not worn off completely, so he was easier than normal to annoy. He swung himself out of bed and snatched at Sam, but missed. Sam backed away wearily.
Suddenly Simon seemed to sober up, and apologised to Sam, blaming his anger on depression and lack of sleep. Sam accepted his apology and felt bad for shouting, so turned his back on Simon to walk out the room. On the other hand, Simon had merely tricked Sam, and swung at him again, the moment his back was turned. This time though, he used a baseball bat he had been hiding under his bed. Sam fell to the floor, unconscious, without a chance to scream. But Simon’s fury wasn’t over, and he kept on beating Sam until he no longer breathed.
“Alexandra?” My mum, Rebecca called to me from outside my bedroom door.
“Come in!” I told her, and watched her through my vanity mirror as she let herself into my room. As I watched her, I noticed for the millionth time how much we looked alike, with our matching height; curly blonde hair; blue eyes; and skinny figure. “We need to talk.” She stated coldly as she reached me. Without waiting for an answer, she carried on. “Chris and I are going on our honeymoon.” They had had a beautiful and expensive wedding only a few weeks previously.
“What about me?” I asked cautiously.
“Well, it will be your summer holiday by the time we go, so i thought you could spend some time with your father... Your real father. “
“No!” I almost shouted, standing up to face her. “I’m not – “
“Don’t argue with me!” She snapped and stormed out my room, leaving me with tears in my eyes. I desperately longed for the time before my mother had met her new husband, a time when we were so close, like best friends. Nevertheless, good fortune was not on my side, and money and fame had won my mum.
As I’m packing my suitcase for my visit to my dad’s, my mother steps in my room, and stands uncertainly by the door.
“Be gentle with Simon... He has had a lot of things go wrong in his life...” She tells me.
“Well, seven years ago, Simon’s son, Sam, went to live with him after his mother died, but a year later, he went missing. Simon nearly went insane with grief, so please be sensitive with him.”
The car slows and stops, after hours of driving. Yet I still don’t open my eyes, as I’m pretending to be asleep, as I have been the whole journey.
My mum gets out of the car, and gently nudges me. After a few minutes of being prodded and poked, I give in and reluctantly open my eyes.
I see mountains in the distance, topped with snow, and hundreds of fields covered in small white dots (also known as sheep). Sprinkled around the fields are small houses and cottages, and barns full of animals. A huge change compared to what I’m used to. Suddenly I forget the change that has occurred in my mum, and long to be back in the city, surrounded by shops and busy roads, instead of being stuck in this isolated countryside.
The door of one of the cottages opens, and a man in his late forties begins to stride towards us. He’s wearing a blue shirt, which looks as if it hasn’t been washed in a long time, and faded jeans. When he reaches us, he holds out his hand for my mother to shake.
“Rebecca,” He greets her politely; he has a more Northern accent to what I am used to. “Alex.” He nods, as he shakes my hand.
“My name is Alexandra.” I reply icily.
“Oh, do beg my pardon... Alexandra.” He smiles.
Then he walks us down to his cottage, and shows us around. He has a small kitchen and living room (with no television), decorated mostly with wood, two small bedrooms and a room that he doesn’t show us inside. One of the bedrooms is covered in rubbish and clothes etc, whereas the other has been stripped bare, except a single wooden bed.
“This is going to be your room.” He tells me when we are standing in the bare room. “I’ll go to town tomorrow to buy you a wardrobe.” He informs me.
“Well, I had better be going.” My mother says after a few minutes of awkward silence. Feeling hurt and lonely, I turn away from her as I feel tears forming in my eyes. She touches me gently on my shoulder and leaves without another word.
A few moments later, I realise I can’t stand such a horrible goodbye, and run up the small hill after my mother, to find her almost at her car. I leap into her arms and hug her tightly, letting the tears fall steadily.
That night, I lay in bed, not moving a muscle, hardly daring to breathe. I can hear floorboards moving outside my door. At first the noises were too soft for me to hear, but as I had started to panic about sleeping in such an unfamiliar place, I had struggled harder to hear any peculiar noises. Suddenly everything went completely silent, and there were no noises from the floorboards, which made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Just as suddenly as they had stopped, the floorboards start to creak again, and this time louder, also they are recognisable as footsteps. The footsteps stop directly outside my door and my heart starts to speed up, becoming so loud that I can hear it hammer against my chest.
Thump, thump... thump, thump... thump, thump.
The door handle turns.
Thump, thump... thump, thump... THUMP, THUMP.
The door opens slowly.
THUMP, THUMP... THUMP, THUMP... THUMP.
A head peers round the door. I throw my hand to my mouth in an attempt to stop me from screaming. The bedroom light is switched on and I let out a faint scream as I’m temporarily blinded. When I can see again, I find out that the head looking around the door is Simon’s and I let out a little whimper, cursing myself for being so pathetic.
“Sorry, did I scare you?” He asks carefully, looking ashamed of himself.
“Just a little.” I reply and smile sheepishly.
A week later, Simon carries on with his strange act, often disappearing to town for hours, not returning until late at night, when he’s drunk. I try to avoid him as much as I can, spending most of my time on my own in my room.
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