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I posted this a long, long time ago, but, seeing as Kyz's got such a good response recently, I thought i might as well post my old offering in here.
Thanks.
Matthew
-----
He just sat there, staring. Staring at a screen which hadn't changed for the last 7 hours and the same screen that he knew wouldn't be changing until he turned it off. But still, like a stone, he waited as his eyes concentrated on the screen. Concentrating on trying to remember what it felt like to talk to her.
Ever since that night on Teen Chat he hadn't been able to stop thinking about what she, smelt, felt and sounded like. He'd been wishing to see her running in the wind, laughing at a joke. One of his jokes.
But, alas, however hard he concentrated on the screen he knew that she wasn't going to come online at 2 o'clock on a school night, so, with his heart weighing heavy, he turned off PC and went to his fantasy filled, worn-out mattress on the floor on which he knew he would dream of her again that night.
And that night wasn't any different from any of the last 60 - the one solitary picture of her that he had been sent after a heavy begging session echoed in his mind as he chased the schoolgirl he imagined her to be around a labyrinth. A labyrinth he knew inside out because it was the main focus of many of the dreams, but yet still he got lost and one he knew would lead to him waking up in a cold sweat.
He'd been left by his Mother as a child. From what his Father had told him he had a picture in his mind of a thieving, lying, wh-re, but the bruises and cuts on the pictures he has of her tell a somewhat different story. When he was young he thought it was due to her thieving ways, but as he looked back on his childhood in later life it became clear that this wasn't true.
Only 2 memories of his childhood stood out in his mind - being locked in his cold, dirty room for days and getting beaten by his father. As his age grew, so did the frequency and severity of the beatings, along with amount of repressed feelings.
He awoke, moist from the sweat of The Labyrinth dream, sat up and turned on his computer. His digital alarm clock flicked to 7:56, and as Windows XP loaded up he imagined what he would have been doing 6 months ago at that very time. He remembered the black suit he pawned to pay for his internet connection fee, along with his collection of Beano annuals, even though his Versace suit had easily covered the fee. He got rid of the annuals more so to destroy every memory of his childhood - he'd been bought the annuals every year as a single Christmas present from his Father, as if to try and apologise for the beating which littered the year.
He hadn't been to work for 3 months now, and he wasn't planning to ever again - he'd never officially been sacked, or not to his knowledge at least - the only letter he ever opened was the broadband and electric bills and all the rest got thrown away; his phone hadn't been connected for a while, since the he upgraded to broadband to be exact; All e-mails he received were deleted upon arrival, apart from any which she sent.
Not that Jenna had been online much recently. He still had the last conversation on MSN they ever had saved on his PC, and even a picture of it as his background... As XP loaded up, he clicked on his Messenger icon, typed his password as fast as could and prayed. Prayed she had stayed off school to speak to him. Prayed she'd remember him and came online to chat. Prayed he'd received an e-mail from her containing an address and time to meet up. Prayed that God could hear him.
The PC instantly regretted informing him that no-emails had been received and that no-one was online, as a kick in the side of the tower made the screen jump for a second, and it quickly turned back to normal, almost as if it knew that it would get more of where that came from if it crashed.
Resigned to spending another day of looking over all the past conversations they'd had, he went to get something to eat. Unwittingly no food has passed his lips for days, and his cupboard was empty, bar a bottle of Lea & Perrins which was already a year out of date when a neighbour gave it to him as a moving in gift. Not wanting to miss Jenna signing on the internet, he downed the bottle of sauce and decided he would order some 'real' food on an internet shopping site later that day.
The last time he'd done something like that was with a bottle of 'Dave's Hot Sauce' to impress a girl. The girl he was going to spend the rest of his life with. The girl who he was engaged to. The girl who his best friend ran away with. At least they hadn't found the bodies yet.
The window was now open. Laughs and screams of children passing his house brought back memories of the night that Jenna tried to have a voice conversation with him. Although he knew he couldn't hear anything on the night, now he distinctly remembered a teenage laugh before she cancelled it.
He lent out of his window, watching the school children pass. He hoped that Jenna went to St. Roberts, his local school, as they had never discussed her address. He lent out of the window, wondering how much coverage a suicide near a school would get. National papers? No, he thought, it would need to be much, much more than that. Naked probably would get decent coverage. He was half naked before he realised what he was doing - killing himself on the off chance that a 15 year old girl would make the connection between his real name and his online screen name - '16_male_hot' and declare her love for a dead, middle-aged man.
He looked in his wardrobe, and pulled out the best shirt and trousers, and put them on and searched for his briefcase. Scrounging enough Bus Fare to reach the city centre, he opened his front door. As he turned the lock to end his Internet hell, he heard a sound. His PC was still on and Jenna had signed in.
Thanks.
Matthew
-----
He just sat there, staring. Staring at a screen which hadn't changed for the last 7 hours and the same screen that he knew wouldn't be changing until he turned it off. But still, like a stone, he waited as his eyes concentrated on the screen. Concentrating on trying to remember what it felt like to talk to her.
Ever since that night on Teen Chat he hadn't been able to stop thinking about what she, smelt, felt and sounded like. He'd been wishing to see her running in the wind, laughing at a joke. One of his jokes.
But, alas, however hard he concentrated on the screen he knew that she wasn't going to come online at 2 o'clock on a school night, so, with his heart weighing heavy, he turned off PC and went to his fantasy filled, worn-out mattress on the floor on which he knew he would dream of her again that night.
And that night wasn't any different from any of the last 60 - the one solitary picture of her that he had been sent after a heavy begging session echoed in his mind as he chased the schoolgirl he imagined her to be around a labyrinth. A labyrinth he knew inside out because it was the main focus of many of the dreams, but yet still he got lost and one he knew would lead to him waking up in a cold sweat.
He'd been left by his Mother as a child. From what his Father had told him he had a picture in his mind of a thieving, lying, wh-re, but the bruises and cuts on the pictures he has of her tell a somewhat different story. When he was young he thought it was due to her thieving ways, but as he looked back on his childhood in later life it became clear that this wasn't true.
Only 2 memories of his childhood stood out in his mind - being locked in his cold, dirty room for days and getting beaten by his father. As his age grew, so did the frequency and severity of the beatings, along with amount of repressed feelings.
He awoke, moist from the sweat of The Labyrinth dream, sat up and turned on his computer. His digital alarm clock flicked to 7:56, and as Windows XP loaded up he imagined what he would have been doing 6 months ago at that very time. He remembered the black suit he pawned to pay for his internet connection fee, along with his collection of Beano annuals, even though his Versace suit had easily covered the fee. He got rid of the annuals more so to destroy every memory of his childhood - he'd been bought the annuals every year as a single Christmas present from his Father, as if to try and apologise for the beating which littered the year.
He hadn't been to work for 3 months now, and he wasn't planning to ever again - he'd never officially been sacked, or not to his knowledge at least - the only letter he ever opened was the broadband and electric bills and all the rest got thrown away; his phone hadn't been connected for a while, since the he upgraded to broadband to be exact; All e-mails he received were deleted upon arrival, apart from any which she sent.
Not that Jenna had been online much recently. He still had the last conversation on MSN they ever had saved on his PC, and even a picture of it as his background... As XP loaded up, he clicked on his Messenger icon, typed his password as fast as could and prayed. Prayed she had stayed off school to speak to him. Prayed she'd remember him and came online to chat. Prayed he'd received an e-mail from her containing an address and time to meet up. Prayed that God could hear him.
The PC instantly regretted informing him that no-emails had been received and that no-one was online, as a kick in the side of the tower made the screen jump for a second, and it quickly turned back to normal, almost as if it knew that it would get more of where that came from if it crashed.
Resigned to spending another day of looking over all the past conversations they'd had, he went to get something to eat. Unwittingly no food has passed his lips for days, and his cupboard was empty, bar a bottle of Lea & Perrins which was already a year out of date when a neighbour gave it to him as a moving in gift. Not wanting to miss Jenna signing on the internet, he downed the bottle of sauce and decided he would order some 'real' food on an internet shopping site later that day.
The last time he'd done something like that was with a bottle of 'Dave's Hot Sauce' to impress a girl. The girl he was going to spend the rest of his life with. The girl who he was engaged to. The girl who his best friend ran away with. At least they hadn't found the bodies yet.
The window was now open. Laughs and screams of children passing his house brought back memories of the night that Jenna tried to have a voice conversation with him. Although he knew he couldn't hear anything on the night, now he distinctly remembered a teenage laugh before she cancelled it.
He lent out of his window, watching the school children pass. He hoped that Jenna went to St. Roberts, his local school, as they had never discussed her address. He lent out of the window, wondering how much coverage a suicide near a school would get. National papers? No, he thought, it would need to be much, much more than that. Naked probably would get decent coverage. He was half naked before he realised what he was doing - killing himself on the off chance that a 15 year old girl would make the connection between his real name and his online screen name - '16_male_hot' and declare her love for a dead, middle-aged man.
He looked in his wardrobe, and pulled out the best shirt and trousers, and put them on and searched for his briefcase. Scrounging enough Bus Fare to reach the city centre, he opened his front door. As he turned the lock to end his Internet hell, he heard a sound. His PC was still on and Jenna had signed in.
Thanks Kyz - I think i've read your old one before, also.
might cast my eye over it again, in a few minutes, after just killing a few more people on Vice City.
And what can I say, Biggles? It's a good name...
might cast my eye over it again, in a few minutes, after just killing a few more people on Vice City.
And what can I say, Biggles? It's a good name...
tributé wrote:
> You realise how hard it is to think of a decent title?
>
> 'A tale of stalking, loneliness and internet love'
>
> 'He' - less is more, in my opinion.
Yeah that's what I thought when I wrote one called that.
> You realise how hard it is to think of a decent title?
>
> 'A tale of stalking, loneliness and internet love'
>
> 'He' - less is more, in my opinion.
Yeah that's what I thought when I wrote one called that.
Was brilliant in the first place and is still great now.
Although I recommend taking the "they havent found the bodies bit" part out from the story and leaving the "running away with the best mate" issue open. (just my opinion)
Anyway - brilliant :-)
Although I recommend taking the "they havent found the bodies bit" part out from the story and leaving the "running away with the best mate" issue open. (just my opinion)
Anyway - brilliant :-)
You realise how hard it is to think of a decent title?
'A tale of stalking, loneliness and internet love'
'He' - less is more, in my opinion.
'A tale of stalking, loneliness and internet love'
'He' - less is more, in my opinion.
Get an original title!
Hmmm.
good point, mon ami, about the broadband - i've got it through a set-top box, but i really should've thought of that.
Oh well.
In retrospect the 'Bodies' line is probably my favourite in the whole story.
there'll probably be another story up this week by me, loosely based on the 'Great Expectations' Character, Miss Havisham. It's a bit twisted, but it's a peice of work that I'm proud of.
Come to think about it, most of my 'favourites' are twisted love stories...
I blame my ex.
good point, mon ami, about the broadband - i've got it through a set-top box, but i really should've thought of that.
Oh well.
In retrospect the 'Bodies' line is probably my favourite in the whole story.
there'll probably be another story up this week by me, loosely based on the 'Great Expectations' Character, Miss Havisham. It's a bit twisted, but it's a peice of work that I'm proud of.
Come to think about it, most of my 'favourites' are twisted love stories...
I blame my ex.
I remember reading this a while ago actually, so it must have had some effect.
I particularly like this line:
When he was young he thought it was due to her thieving ways, but as he looked back on his childhood in later life it became clear that this wasn't true.
There was one thing that struck me as wrong - he doesn't have his phone connected, yet he has broadband. Regular broadband uses his phone line.
Other than that, there are some great ideas in here, and the throwaway lines about dead bodies, and his past lead me to believe that it could be part of something much bigger, that would give us some more of this nasty childhood, the happy times with his fiancee, how thta all went wrong, and onto his obsession with a school girl.
I particularly like this line:
When he was young he thought it was due to her thieving ways, but as he looked back on his childhood in later life it became clear that this wasn't true.
There was one thing that struck me as wrong - he doesn't have his phone connected, yet he has broadband. Regular broadband uses his phone line.
Other than that, there are some great ideas in here, and the throwaway lines about dead bodies, and his past lead me to believe that it could be part of something much bigger, that would give us some more of this nasty childhood, the happy times with his fiancee, how thta all went wrong, and onto his obsession with a school girl.
I posted this a long, long time ago, but, seeing as Kyz's got such a good response recently, I thought i might as well post my old offering in here.
Thanks.
Matthew
-----
He just sat there, staring. Staring at a screen which hadn't changed for the last 7 hours and the same screen that he knew wouldn't be changing until he turned it off. But still, like a stone, he waited as his eyes concentrated on the screen. Concentrating on trying to remember what it felt like to talk to her.
Ever since that night on Teen Chat he hadn't been able to stop thinking about what she, smelt, felt and sounded like. He'd been wishing to see her running in the wind, laughing at a joke. One of his jokes.
But, alas, however hard he concentrated on the screen he knew that she wasn't going to come online at 2 o'clock on a school night, so, with his heart weighing heavy, he turned off PC and went to his fantasy filled, worn-out mattress on the floor on which he knew he would dream of her again that night.
And that night wasn't any different from any of the last 60 - the one solitary picture of her that he had been sent after a heavy begging session echoed in his mind as he chased the schoolgirl he imagined her to be around a labyrinth. A labyrinth he knew inside out because it was the main focus of many of the dreams, but yet still he got lost and one he knew would lead to him waking up in a cold sweat.
He'd been left by his Mother as a child. From what his Father had told him he had a picture in his mind of a thieving, lying, wh-re, but the bruises and cuts on the pictures he has of her tell a somewhat different story. When he was young he thought it was due to her thieving ways, but as he looked back on his childhood in later life it became clear that this wasn't true.
Only 2 memories of his childhood stood out in his mind - being locked in his cold, dirty room for days and getting beaten by his father. As his age grew, so did the frequency and severity of the beatings, along with amount of repressed feelings.
He awoke, moist from the sweat of The Labyrinth dream, sat up and turned on his computer. His digital alarm clock flicked to 7:56, and as Windows XP loaded up he imagined what he would have been doing 6 months ago at that very time. He remembered the black suit he pawned to pay for his internet connection fee, along with his collection of Beano annuals, even though his Versace suit had easily covered the fee. He got rid of the annuals more so to destroy every memory of his childhood - he'd been bought the annuals every year as a single Christmas present from his Father, as if to try and apologise for the beating which littered the year.
He hadn't been to work for 3 months now, and he wasn't planning to ever again - he'd never officially been sacked, or not to his knowledge at least - the only letter he ever opened was the broadband and electric bills and all the rest got thrown away; his phone hadn't been connected for a while, since the he upgraded to broadband to be exact; All e-mails he received were deleted upon arrival, apart from any which she sent.
Not that Jenna had been online much recently. He still had the last conversation on MSN they ever had saved on his PC, and even a picture of it as his background... As XP loaded up, he clicked on his Messenger icon, typed his password as fast as could and prayed. Prayed she had stayed off school to speak to him. Prayed she'd remember him and came online to chat. Prayed he'd received an e-mail from her containing an address and time to meet up. Prayed that God could hear him.
The PC instantly regretted informing him that no-emails had been received and that no-one was online, as a kick in the side of the tower made the screen jump for a second, and it quickly turned back to normal, almost as if it knew that it would get more of where that came from if it crashed.
Resigned to spending another day of looking over all the past conversations they'd had, he went to get something to eat. Unwittingly no food has passed his lips for days, and his cupboard was empty, bar a bottle of Lea & Perrins which was already a year out of date when a neighbour gave it to him as a moving in gift. Not wanting to miss Jenna signing on the internet, he downed the bottle of sauce and decided he would order some 'real' food on an internet shopping site later that day.
The last time he'd done something like that was with a bottle of 'Dave's Hot Sauce' to impress a girl. The girl he was going to spend the rest of his life with. The girl who he was engaged to. The girl who his best friend ran away with. At least they hadn't found the bodies yet.
The window was now open. Laughs and screams of children passing his house brought back memories of the night that Jenna tried to have a voice conversation with him. Although he knew he couldn't hear anything on the night, now he distinctly remembered a teenage laugh before she cancelled it.
He lent out of his window, watching the school children pass. He hoped that Jenna went to St. Roberts, his local school, as they had never discussed her address. He lent out of the window, wondering how much coverage a suicide near a school would get. National papers? No, he thought, it would need to be much, much more than that. Naked probably would get decent coverage. He was half naked before he realised what he was doing - killing himself on the off chance that a 15 year old girl would make the connection between his real name and his online screen name - '16_male_hot' and declare her love for a dead, middle-aged man.
He looked in his wardrobe, and pulled out the best shirt and trousers, and put them on and searched for his briefcase. Scrounging enough Bus Fare to reach the city centre, he opened his front door. As he turned the lock to end his Internet hell, he heard a sound. His PC was still on and Jenna had signed in.
Thanks.
Matthew
-----
He just sat there, staring. Staring at a screen which hadn't changed for the last 7 hours and the same screen that he knew wouldn't be changing until he turned it off. But still, like a stone, he waited as his eyes concentrated on the screen. Concentrating on trying to remember what it felt like to talk to her.
Ever since that night on Teen Chat he hadn't been able to stop thinking about what she, smelt, felt and sounded like. He'd been wishing to see her running in the wind, laughing at a joke. One of his jokes.
But, alas, however hard he concentrated on the screen he knew that she wasn't going to come online at 2 o'clock on a school night, so, with his heart weighing heavy, he turned off PC and went to his fantasy filled, worn-out mattress on the floor on which he knew he would dream of her again that night.
And that night wasn't any different from any of the last 60 - the one solitary picture of her that he had been sent after a heavy begging session echoed in his mind as he chased the schoolgirl he imagined her to be around a labyrinth. A labyrinth he knew inside out because it was the main focus of many of the dreams, but yet still he got lost and one he knew would lead to him waking up in a cold sweat.
He'd been left by his Mother as a child. From what his Father had told him he had a picture in his mind of a thieving, lying, wh-re, but the bruises and cuts on the pictures he has of her tell a somewhat different story. When he was young he thought it was due to her thieving ways, but as he looked back on his childhood in later life it became clear that this wasn't true.
Only 2 memories of his childhood stood out in his mind - being locked in his cold, dirty room for days and getting beaten by his father. As his age grew, so did the frequency and severity of the beatings, along with amount of repressed feelings.
He awoke, moist from the sweat of The Labyrinth dream, sat up and turned on his computer. His digital alarm clock flicked to 7:56, and as Windows XP loaded up he imagined what he would have been doing 6 months ago at that very time. He remembered the black suit he pawned to pay for his internet connection fee, along with his collection of Beano annuals, even though his Versace suit had easily covered the fee. He got rid of the annuals more so to destroy every memory of his childhood - he'd been bought the annuals every year as a single Christmas present from his Father, as if to try and apologise for the beating which littered the year.
He hadn't been to work for 3 months now, and he wasn't planning to ever again - he'd never officially been sacked, or not to his knowledge at least - the only letter he ever opened was the broadband and electric bills and all the rest got thrown away; his phone hadn't been connected for a while, since the he upgraded to broadband to be exact; All e-mails he received were deleted upon arrival, apart from any which she sent.
Not that Jenna had been online much recently. He still had the last conversation on MSN they ever had saved on his PC, and even a picture of it as his background... As XP loaded up, he clicked on his Messenger icon, typed his password as fast as could and prayed. Prayed she had stayed off school to speak to him. Prayed she'd remember him and came online to chat. Prayed he'd received an e-mail from her containing an address and time to meet up. Prayed that God could hear him.
The PC instantly regretted informing him that no-emails had been received and that no-one was online, as a kick in the side of the tower made the screen jump for a second, and it quickly turned back to normal, almost as if it knew that it would get more of where that came from if it crashed.
Resigned to spending another day of looking over all the past conversations they'd had, he went to get something to eat. Unwittingly no food has passed his lips for days, and his cupboard was empty, bar a bottle of Lea & Perrins which was already a year out of date when a neighbour gave it to him as a moving in gift. Not wanting to miss Jenna signing on the internet, he downed the bottle of sauce and decided he would order some 'real' food on an internet shopping site later that day.
The last time he'd done something like that was with a bottle of 'Dave's Hot Sauce' to impress a girl. The girl he was going to spend the rest of his life with. The girl who he was engaged to. The girl who his best friend ran away with. At least they hadn't found the bodies yet.
The window was now open. Laughs and screams of children passing his house brought back memories of the night that Jenna tried to have a voice conversation with him. Although he knew he couldn't hear anything on the night, now he distinctly remembered a teenage laugh before she cancelled it.
He lent out of his window, watching the school children pass. He hoped that Jenna went to St. Roberts, his local school, as they had never discussed her address. He lent out of the window, wondering how much coverage a suicide near a school would get. National papers? No, he thought, it would need to be much, much more than that. Naked probably would get decent coverage. He was half naked before he realised what he was doing - killing himself on the off chance that a 15 year old girl would make the connection between his real name and his online screen name - '16_male_hot' and declare her love for a dead, middle-aged man.
He looked in his wardrobe, and pulled out the best shirt and trousers, and put them on and searched for his briefcase. Scrounging enough Bus Fare to reach the city centre, he opened his front door. As he turned the lock to end his Internet hell, he heard a sound. His PC was still on and Jenna had signed in.