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Old 04-28-2013, 04:16 PM   #1
Thekylekurtz
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The Abandoned House


Stomach twisting into a daisy chain contesting every new drink he continued, washing down the pain with the bottom of a bottle. He threw the container aside, surprised to find no chime of shattering glass echo in response.

Must be too far-gone now.

He lurched up on two faltering feet, blurred vision searching a house once familiar for more. Lights flickering he slid forward on the layer of filth that had grown to keep him company and landed facedown. A guffaw escaped him, situation so humorous he felt disappointed when he couldn’t seem to find a phone to let anyone know.

He couldn’t think of anyone who would answer now anyway.

He searched through the darkness, wisp of autumn wind surprising him. He’d have to find the window, see if it was open or broken. Tomorrow, maybe. Fridge groaning as if to offer an intervention he could have used long ago he searched the inky air inside and found another drink to keep him company.

The idea of finding a clean glass darkly humorous he unscrewed the cap and tossed it over his shoulder, taste now igniting his tongue one he knew so well: whiskey. In the darkness, Kyle found a place to sit and drank.

He drank and tried to force the synapses firing somewhere in his mind to help him sift through the events of the day. For what seemed like an eternity, he struggled to recall what had brought him here, and as his eyes began to adjust sobriety stole the illusion he’d been indulging in.

Leaves blew through the abandoned house, windows all left shattered for ages on end. The fridge remained open and empty. He looked down to find his only friend gone, hand no one could see balling into a fist.
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Old 04-29-2013, 11:41 AM   #2
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Interesting. I'm ready to read more.
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Old 04-30-2013, 01:49 PM   #3
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The Abandoned House

Part One: Let Her Go


Sunlight trickled in through broken boarded up windows, golden interference rousing him from the floor’s embrace. He blearily blinked, hazel eyes spackled with hints of gray adjusting to the sight of the skeleton that had once been his home.

He couldn’t recall when things had changed.

When the front door had been forced in, wood splintered where the knob and lock assembly had remained dutifully affixed to the wall. Or the day in which water had dilapidated the ceiling of the first floor, claiming chunks of rotted drywall. He was almost sure the needles strewn about weren’t actually his.

Almost.

He would have been expected to be more mortified at the realization he couldn’t have possibly lived in this house as it died. No one could actually live in this. And yet he couldn’t hope to remember the last time he’d left, either. He’d been in this empty house this whole time, thinking he knew why no one ever came.

He must have come to this conclusion before.

A strong gust of wind stole through his cell, rustling of pages on the warped kitchen table attracting his attention. He ran a hand over the faded leather journal; flipping through to find it blank, save for a single page. Scrawled in black, a simple message ordered: You Have to Let Her Go. Kyle’s brow furrowed at the advice, though he hardly expected to remember the time of writing.

There weren’t any answers here.

Worn journal safely stored in his back pocket, he briefly wondered if he needed a jacket. But only briefly. A warm summer morning waited outside; with an air of hesitation, he stepped through the ruined door out into an alien world.
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kyle is having anime moments with LT.

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Old 04-30-2013, 01:59 PM   #4
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Neat.
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Old 04-30-2013, 03:49 PM   #5
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Thanks Haven. More coming soon.
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Old 04-30-2013, 05:48 PM   #6
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The Abandoned House

Part Three: (Don’t) Fear the Reaper


He wasn’t sure how long he’d been gone, but the town hadn’t waited for a triumphant return. None of the faces were familiar, and despite streets retaining names the buildings had all changed. He was certainly past the point of asking anyone for help.

The midday sun bleached the world of the living an extra shade closer to white, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was only so through his eyes. Another question frequently worming its way to the surface was exactly where he was going. His legs seemed to carry on as if to know something he didn’t.

Kyle eventually came to realize he was at his destination, having stopped minutes ago before a large monolith of a building. His stomach turned at the sight of the sign, letters reading Arthur Clarke Hospital. The nausea fled as he realized there was nothing inside to heave anyway.

The cry of a crow accompanied by a symphony of rustling wings made him turn, thin figure draped in black with bleach blonde hair drifting in the wind staring back. Before he could ask the young man beamed a smile his way and said, “Yes, I can see you.” Kyle remained silent, waiting for the young man to go on, “I didn’t expect you to remember me.”

A car lazily slid through the two, brakes moaning as the car slowed to a stop to let two passengers out and into the facility none the wiser. Eventually he worked up the nerve to wonder, “Are you… Death?”

Rough laugh escaping him the man replied with ease, “I’m Carl, actually. The big man rarely makes house calls. No, I was once like you. Though, not as much of a pain.”

Kyle turned back towards the hospital, structure seemingly offering no memories to compliment the terrible weight settling in his chest. He asked with a touch of reluctance, “Are you here to take me?”

Porcelain features drawing into a jagged smile Carl paused before answering, “You have to be ready to move on. We’re only supposed to force the violent ones. Though, you’re not far. For now you’re just harmless.” Stillborn silence falling between the two Carl offered, “Remember, keep checking the journal. I’ll be in touch.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of wings beating furiously to find nothing but nothing to keep him company. Ledger in hand again he leafed through the pages, surprised to find a new message scratched out on the paper:

She Never Even had a Chance
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Old 05-03-2013, 10:04 AM   #7
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The Abandoned House

Part Four: The Breakdown


His legs were alive again, automating along a path he did not know. His thoughts drifted briefly, eventually coming to rest on the first smile that had ever made his heart race, Annibell’s smile. It had been such a brilliant, wide white grin the day he had managed the nerve to ask out the prettiest cashier in all of Redbrook. Mysteriously, she said yes!

Their fate was sealed.

He mused how dates, anniversaries, family dinners, and a modest wedding all seemed to slip by in seconds, as if they’d always been nothing but memories. All sweet ones that now stung so bitterly. Not far behind, he recalled the day they were left behind bleached white walls with Annibell crying and the world doing their best to look away. The sight gave birth to an anger and sadness that stripped the very color from his heart.

Night spent losing himself in drinking came to mind. The endless silence filling the void between the two in bed every night. One late morning he stumbled in to find oxycodone breadcrumbs leading to what was left of his wife.

It had been raining that night too as the sky began to cry, tears now only slipped through his wandering soul. The sight of mossy green hills freckled with engraved stones came as no surprise. He now stood before Annibell’s grave. His fingers slid across the smooth stone, and he quietly said to no one, “I already let you go. I wasn’t even there when you died Annie. I hadn’t been there for some time.”

But still no liberation came, and he knew it wasn’t enough. Journal brought again to bare he searched its barren contents to find a new passage waiting.

It’s a Reminder of All I’ll Never Have, Resting in an Empty Corner.

He knew where the ending waited, and let himself ride passenger again on the way back home.
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Old 05-04-2013, 08:02 AM   #8
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The Abandoned House

Part Five: Face your Fear


The Abandoned House lay in ruin, gaping maw still left open and waiting for him to take the bait and wander in. At his side he heard the familiar flap of wings and asked Carl, “How many times have it made it this far?”

The reaper stepped up next to him and stared out at the forlorn home. Another steady gust of wind sprinted by, boards lining the windows rattling in response. Crystalline blue eyes set Carl replied, “Five times. It’s been almost ten years now. My companions may not be so patient, if you don't come to terms."

Kyle only nodded, continuing to contemplate what could wait within. This time his legs seemed to be patiently waiting for an order. He asked the Angel of Death, “Why would you do this for me?”

Wide smile erupting on his sharp features Carl answered, “There’s only two kinds of spirits. The ones who move on and the ones we have to destroy. You’ve come close, a few times. Lashed out at some kids messing around in there, but I think you can do it. My transition wasn’t easy, either.”

He nodded at the reaper, smiling back as best he could. Only after taking it did he realize a deep breath wouldn’t really help. He took his first step towards The Abandoned House, stopping at the sound of Carl’s voice warn, “But if you don’t make it this time, I know someone already planning to come after you. No pressure.”

Kyle turned to his only friend in the afterlife and nodded. Carl added, “I’ll be right outside, no matter what happens.”

He stepped in through the amputated doorway, to find his fate.
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kyle is having anime moments with LT.

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Old 05-04-2013, 08:28 AM   #9
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The Abandoned House

End: Absolution


He walked in through the door, jacket thrown to the wayside. Weary eyes widening at the sight of an orange prescription bottle Kyle grinned wide and tore of the white plastic cap. Two Percocet washed down with a rain of Jack Daniels he sat back in his chair, waiting for the fire and medicine inside to achieve balance.

Somewhere, a phone began to ring. He didn’t want to answer, knowing already that the voice on the other end’s concern would only be contempt in his hears. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a steady pull. Two more Percocet down.

World beginning to swim he grinned at the idea of feeling nothing again and stumbled out of the chair, catching himself on the dining room table. Pen fumbling between his fingers he flipped open his journal and scrawled the last message he ever would, eyes briefly flickering over to the damned object in the corner he couldn’t get rid of.

He polished off the whiskey in hand, tossing the glass aside. Everything slanted to one side for an instant and he faltered, eventually finding the strength to procure another half-finished bottle whose label he couldn’t hope to read now. Three Percocet this time.

Coherent thought becoming a rarity, time was either at a standstill of slipping by in the blink of an eye. He found himself with an empty bottle of prescription medication, along with an empty container, which used to house cough syrup. He wondered only once if he’d had too much.

Kyle watched himself lean back in the chair, head rolling back as his eyes fluttered shut. He watched himself take one last, long breath. And he watched himself die.

Journal in hand, he lifted it to his eyes with shaking hands to read:

We Were Going to Name her Laura

Notebook slipping from his fingers he finally saw the crib resting broken in the corner of the dying room. He fell to his knees, crying out as he remembered everything. On the floor of the Abandoned House, Kyle shook and wept, recalling the very moment that he’d died. It hadn’t been alone in that chair.

It was in that pale white room in the hospital.

He wavered his way back to standing, lights in the house flickering between a familiar world he imagined and the decaying truth. He sat down in the same chair he’d stopped breathing in once, eyes coming to rest on a bottle resting at his fingertips.

He looked out one last time to see Carl in the doorway, watching him closely. He numbly unscrewed the cap, bringing the rim to his lips. He couldn’t let her go, and he could never hope to forgive himself for something he couldn’t have done.

But is this what Laura would have wanted? He stopped at the thought, liquor at the edge of his tongue.

The bottle fell to the floor of The Abandoned House, echoing alone.
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Old 05-04-2013, 10:00 AM   #10
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Good stuff, dude. Not much to contribute; I enjoyed reading it.
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Old 05-04-2013, 10:09 AM   #11
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Old 05-04-2013, 10:41 AM   #12
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Wow, thank you guys. I really appreciate it.

I need to edit it down into a short story, and then I'm going to submit it various places and try and get the thing published.

It's funny, I only wrote the first part on a whim, partially intoxicated. The idea came from when I was drinking alone, thinking about how it always seemed to go the same. As if I was trapped in a loop. So I wrote a story about a ghost named Kyle who'd made an alcoholic purgatory for himself. And then people asked how it ended, and I realized I could do more.

Other than that I was inspired by the surreal feel of Shutter Island and the powerful themes of Stone Sour's House of Gold and Bones Part 1&2, about a young man trying to find himself.

Thanks again though, I really need to do something with this. You guys rock.
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Old 05-07-2013, 05:38 PM   #13
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Edited and compiled into a short work

The Abandoned House


Stomach twisting into a daisy chain contesting every new drink he continued, washing down the pain with the bottom of a bottle. He threw the container aside, surprised to find no chime of shattering glass echoing in response.

Must be too far-gone now.

He lurched up on two faltering feet, blurred vision searching a house once familiar for more. Lights flickering he slid forward on the layer of filth that had grown to keep him company and landed facedown. A guffaw escaped him, situation so humorous he felt disappointed when he couldn’t seem to find a phone to let anyone know.

Nobody would answer for him now, anyway.

He searched through the darkness, wisp of autumn wind surprising him. He’d have to find the window, see if it was open or broken. Tomorrow, maybe. Fridge groaning as if to offer an intervention he could have used long ago he searched the inky air inside and found another drink to keep him company.

The idea of finding a clean glass darkly humorous he unscrewed the cap and tossed it over his shoulder, taste now igniting his tongue one he knew so well: whiskey. In the darkness, Kyle found a place to sit and enjoy his purgatory.

He drank and tried to force the synapses firing somewhere in his mind to help him sift through the events of the day. For what seemed like an eternity, he struggled to recall what had brought him here, and as his eyes began to adjust sobriety stole the illusion he’d been indulging in.

Leaves blew through the Abandoned House, windows all left shattered for ages on end. The fridge remained open and empty. He looked down to find his only friend gone, hand no one could see balling into a fist.

----

Sunlight trickled in through broken boarded up windows, golden interference rousing him from the floor’s embrace. He blearily blinked, hazel eyes spackled with hints of gray adjusting to the sight of the skeleton that had once been his home.

He couldn’t recall when things had changed.

When the front door had been forced in, wood splintered where the knob and lock assembly had remained dutifully affixed to the wall. Or the day in which water had dilapidated the ceiling of the first floor, claiming chunks of rotted drywall. He was almost sure the needles strewn about weren’t actually his.

Almost.

He would have been expected to be more mortified at the realization he couldn’t have possibly lived in this house as it died. No one could actually live in this. And yet he couldn’t begin to recall the last time he’d left, either. He’d been in this empty house this whole time, thinking he knew why no one ever came.

He must have come to this conclusion before.

A strong gust of wind stole through his cell, rustling of pages on the warped kitchen table attracting his attention. He ran a hand over the faded leather journal; flipping through to find it blank, save for a single page. Scrawled in black, a simple message ordered: You Have to Let Her Go. Kyle’s brow furrowed at the advice, though he hardly expected to remember the time of writing.

There weren’t any answers here.

Worn journal safely stored in his back pocket, he briefly wondered if he needed a jacket. But only briefly. A warm summer morning waited outside; with an air of hesitation, he stepped through the ruined door out into an alien world.

---

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been gone, but the town hadn’t waited for a triumphant return. None of the faces were familiar, and despite streets retaining names the buildings had all changed. He was certainly past the point of asking anyone for help.

The midday sun bleached the world of the living an extra shade closer to white, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was only so through his eyes. Another question frequently worming its way to the surface was exactly where he was going. His legs seemed to carry on as if to know something he didn’t.

Kyle eventually came to realize he was at his destination, having stopped minutes ago before a large monolith of a building. His stomach turned at the sight of the sign, letters reading Arthur Clarke Hospital. The nausea fled as he realized there was nothing inside to heave anyway.

The cry of a crow accompanied by a symphony of rustling wings made him turn, thin figure draped in black with bleach blonde hair ignoring the wind staring back. Before he could ask the young man beamed a smile his way and said, “Yes, I can see you.” Kyle remained silent, waiting for the fellow to go on, “I didn’t expect you to remember me.”

A car lazily slid through the two, brakes moaning as the car slowed to a stop to let two passengers out and into the facility none the wiser. Eventually he worked up the nerve to wonder, “Are you… Death?”

Rough laugh escaping him the man replied with ease, “I’m Carl, actually. The big man rarely makes house calls. No, I was once like you. Though, not as much of a pain.”

Kyle turned back towards the hospital, structure seemingly offering no memories to compliment the terrible weight settling in his chest. He asked with a touch of reluctance, “Are you here to take me?”

Porcelain features drawing into a jagged smile Carl paused before answering, “You have to be ready to move on. We’re only supposed to force the violent ones. Though, you’re not far. For now you’re just harmless.” Stillborn silence falling between the two Carl offered, “Remember, keep checking the journal. I’ll be in touch.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of wings beating furiously to find nothing but nothing to keep him company. Ledger in hand again he leafed through the pages, surprised to find a new message scratched out on the paper:

She Never Even had a Chance

His legs were alive again, automating along a path he did not know. His thoughts drifted briefly, eventually coming to rest on the first smile that had ever made his heart race, Annibell’s smile. It had been such a brilliant, wide white grin the day he had managed the nerve to ask out the prettiest cashier in all of Redbrook. Mysteriously, she said yes!

Their fate was sealed.

He mused how dates, anniversaries, family dinners, and a modest wedding all seemed to slip by in seconds, as if they’d always been nothing but memories. All sweet ones that now stung so bitterly. Not far behind, he recalled the day they were left behind bleached white walls with Annibell crying and the world doing their best to look away. The sight gave birth to an anger and sadness that stripped the very color from his heart.

Night spent losing himself in drinking came to mind. The endless silence filling the void between the two in bed every night. One late morning he stumbled in to find oxycodone breadcrumbs leading to what was left of his wife.

The sky had been crying that night as well, tears now only slipping through his wandering soul. The sight of mossy green hills freckled with engraved stones came as no surprise. He now stood before Annibell’s grave. His fingers slid across the smooth stone, and he quietly said to no one, “I already let you go. I wasn’t even there when you died Annie. I hadn’t been there for some time.”

But still no liberation came, and he knew it wasn’t enough. Journal brought again to bare he searched its barren contents to find a new passage waiting.

It’s a Reminder of All I’ll Never Have, Resting in an Empty Corner.

He knew where the ending waited, and let himself ride passenger again on the way back home.

The Abandoned House lay before him now, gaping maw still left open and waiting. At his side he heard the familiar flap of wings and asked Carl, “How many times have it made it this far?”

The reaper stepped up next to him and stared out at the forlorn home. Another steady gust of wind sprinted by, boards lining the windows rattling in complaint. Crystalline blue eyes set Carl replied, “Five times. It’s been almost ten years now. You’re lucky I’m so patient.”

Kyle only nodded, continuing to contemplate what could wait within. This time his legs seemed to be patiently waiting for an order. He asked the Angel of Death, “Why would you do this for me?”

Wide smile erupting on his sharp features Carl answered, “There’s only two kinds of spirits. The ones who move on and the ones we have to destroy. You’ve come close, a few times. Lashed out at some kids messing around in there, but I think you can do it. My transition wasn’t easy, either.”

He nodded at the reaper, smiling back as best he could. Only after taking it did he realize a deep breath wouldn’t really help. He took his first step towards The Abandoned House, stopping at the sound of Carl’s voice warn, “But if you don’t make it this time, I know someone already planning to come after you. No pressure.”

Kyle turned to his only friend in the afterlife and nodded. Carl added, “I’ll be right outside, no matter what happens”.

He stepped in through the amputated doorway, to find his fate.

---

He walked in through the door, jacket thrown to the wayside. Weary eyes widening at the sight of an orange prescription bottle Kyle grinned wide and tore of the white plastic cap. Two Percocet washed down with a rain of Jack Daniels he sat back in his chair, waiting for the fire and medicine inside to achieve balance.

Somewhere, a phone began to ring. He didn’t want to answer, knowing already that the voice on the other end’s concern would only be contempt in his hears. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a steady pull. Two more Percocet down.

World beginning to swim he grinned at the idea of feeling nothing again and stumbled out of the chair, catching himself on the dining room table. Pen fumbling between his fingers he flipped open his journal and scrawled the last message he ever would, eyes briefly flickering over to the damned object in the corner he couldn’t get rid of.

He polished off the whiskey in hand, tossing the glass aside. Everything slanted to one side for an instant and he faltered, eventually finding the strength to procure another half-finished bottle whose label he couldn’t hope to read now. Three Percocet this time.

Coherent thought becoming a rarity, time was either at a standstill of slipping by in the blink of an eye. He found himself with an empty bottle of prescription medication, along with an empty container, which used to house cough syrup. He wondered only once if he’d had too much.

Kyle watched himself lean back in the chair, head rolling back as his eyes fluttered shut. He watched himself take one last, long breath. And he watched himself die.

Journal in hand, he lifted it to his eyes with shaking hands to read:

We Were Going to Name her Laura

Notebook slipping from his fingers he finally saw the crib resting broken in the corner of the dying room. He fell to his knees, crying out as he remembered everything. On the floor of the Abandoned House, Kyle shook and wept, recalling the very moment that he’d died. It hadn’t been alone in that chair.

It was in that pale white room in the hospital.

He wavered his way back to standing, lights in the house flickering between a familiar world he imagined and the decaying truth. He sat down in the same chair he’d stopped breathing in once, eyes coming to rest on a bottle now resting at his fingertips.

He looked out one last time to see Carl in the doorway, watching him closely. He numbly unscrewed the cap, bringing the rim to his lips. He couldn’t let her go, and he could never hope to forgive himself for something he couldn’t have done.

But is this what Laura would have wanted? He stopped at the thought, liquor at the edge of his tongue.

The bottle fell to the floor of The Abandoned House, echoing alone.
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kyle is having anime moments with LT.

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Old 05-08-2013, 07:31 AM   #14
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Finally got a chance to read this, buddy. Really enjoyed reading it.
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