Young Writers Society

The red plastic cup in his hand symbolized a party. People were gathered here to drink and socialize, to have fun and be young. Nathan watched from the kitchen as poisoned minds connected with each other by slurred speech.

"You wan' a shot?" The man pouring the liquor was too drunk and overfilled the glass. Inebriated commentary flew in from those who were close by and laughter exploded off of the compact walls. Nathan walked out of the kitchen and to the living room where most of the other people were enjoying themselves. He was happy to get out of there, the alcohol was tempting. Not this time. He thought.

A younger man noticed the piece of jewelry around Nathan's neck. "Nice chain!" He said. The man was excited from the alcohol surging through his system. Beer was now taking its toll and nothing was holding him back from speaking his mind about a shiny, diamond encrusted crucifix.

"Thanks, I actually just got it," Nathan replied

"Are those real diamonds?"

"Yeah well I needed something to spend my money on, ya know?" Nathan smirked, hoping to end the conversation there and keep walking.

The man laughed louder and longer than he should have. The alcohol constrained his efforts of self-control. "Yeah, nothin' wrong with that. Just make sure you don't puke all over it!"

Nathan slipped out a chuckle to appease the man's attempt at being humorous. The time he spent partying was something a lot of people knew him for. Illegal substances that he ingested were able to latch onto his undesirable feelings and strangle them to sleep. As he consumed self-prescribed remedies, he allowed the sorrow and pain from losing his father when he was five years old to continue hiding in his body and soul. As he walked away from the man, he met eyes with an old classmate from high school with whom he never took the time to be more than acquaintances with.

"Nate! How've you been man!?" Surprise exploded from Lenon.

"I've been good, how are you?" He wasn't concerned with the past anymore, he wanted to talk about the present and the future.

"Man! I haven't seen you since that New Year's party!"

Nathan was crossing his fingers, hoping Lenon wasn't referring to the party where he was on too many painkillers and couldn't stand up straight by his own will. On that night, he eventually stumbled into Lenon causing him to spill his drink all over himself. Lenon took it about as well as anyone because the small amount of vodka and sprite could pass for water. However, Nathan's condition hadn't climaxed yet, and after being helped to his feet, the room and the contents of his stomach began swirling in unison. In an act of sobriety, Nathan stood tall and straight, his eyes looked forward at the blurry room, and he prepared himself for the emptying of his stomach. Projectile vomitus landed on Lenon's shoulder and carved itself into his memory.

"New Years?" Nathan said as the room suddenly got a little warmer.

"Yeah at Christine's! You don't remember? Well you were pretty messed up, I guess." The fermented yeast grabbed hold of his mouth and forced a mysterious smile on his face.

"Oh, yeah I was pretty messed up back then. I'm not doing that stuff anymore, though."

"I had to throw that shirt in the garbage!" And he started to laugh. Not a laugh that follows a good joke, but a desperate laugh to remind Nathan to have a good time. Under most circumstances this would have been successful, but Nathan didn't find his past to be very funny. So, the unpleasant feeling between the two came in like a fog, starting out low, but growing steadily.

"Oh, well sorry about that night Lenon. I'll see you around though. I'm gonna go step out on the balcony."

"It's okay man. I'll see ya' later."

Nathan glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it was around the time he planned to leave. Then a sudden urge, hidden inside a tattered, wooden cellar inside him, reached out, and begged him to ask someone for mind-altering party favors. In this moment though, he remembered what his Preacher said to help him fight back these urges. Baby steps. The voice of his Preacher echoed the words inside his head. Baby steps. He had strength with him now. He wasn't alone and he had a plan.

He couldn't leave before saying goodbye to Stacy though. She stood outside on the balcony trying to cool the heat radiating from her. The Vodka coursed through her body and acted as a pheromone, attracting members of the opposite sex. Her straight, blonde hair fell beside her face landing with ease slightly past her shoulders. Her eyes were slanted and narrow like a fox. A couple of beauty marks on her neck led wandering eyes to her breast line. She was as beautiful as ever. Nathan broke his gaze on her to open the sliding glass door, unaware that Stacy was watching him. She continued to hold her conversation with her friends as they inhaled their cigarettes. Smoke filled the air, but as Nathan approached her, their eyes met. He knew then how a woman could turn a man to stone, even if she didn't have a head full of serpents, but instead silky gold. If he hadn't rehearsed what he was going to say before this moment, he would have said nothing at all.

"Hey. . . I uh just wanted to tell you I'm leaving."

"Now? It's not even late, we're still drinking!" Her tone was exciting and flirty. She was good at making guys feel as if she wanted more from them. However, Nathan was never able to see the subtleties in the way women speak so he stuck to his plan.

"I know, but I left my dog with my neighbor and she can be a real problem when I'm not with her." An easy ticket out of the apartment even though it was a lie. He was afraid the couple with white trimmed noses would offer him something he couldn't refuse.

"Aww, fine! One more shot though! C'mon, we have raspberry Vodka!" She grabbed his hand and guided him to the kitchen. Nathan was caught off guard by her physically grabbing him and a vision of the girl's beautiful hand caressing his cheek as her perfectly moist lips pressed against his own struck his mind as quickly as lightning touches ground. Then they entered the kitchen where the Russian nightmare labeled, "Raspberry Paradise," was waiting for them.

Baby steps, stick to the plan.

"Ah no I can't."

"Wait a second! You don't turn down shots from me! I'm the one who always turns down shots from you, remember!?" Her eyes glared at him, she wasn't used to hearing the word 'No.' "Anyway it's my birthday, ya know!"

"Okay, fine! One last shot then I'm getting out of here." A single shot and he was home free, that was a deal worth making, especially if he left with Stacy being happy. The raspberry Vodka slid down his throat, coating the walls with a mild burn, but leaving a sweet, tangy taste in his mouth.

They hugged and before he closed the door behind him, she said, "Make sure you call me. You have my number."

"Okay," he responded automatically. He began walking towards the stairs and smiled as big as the crescent moon in the sky. Laughter escaped his chest as he couldn't hold in the pleasure he was feeling.

Make sure you call me. He mimicked her voice inside his head as he laughed.

And he was going to remember everything for the first time in quite a while.

An old two-lane road down by the river was a detour for his way home and well worth it. The road used to be the old highway, but now it was primarily used by truckers. Listening to an upbeat, feel-good song on the radio called, "Take 'em Up," he accelerated into a long, sweeping right hand turn. The sound and feel of the engine exerting all of its power, propelling the car forward, found its way into Nathan's bloodstream, making him want more and more. The road ahead seduced him and the anticipation and excitement overcame his better judgment. He was driving too fast, much faster than he ever had in his car before.

The drive home was exciting and captivating. He hadn't been on these roads in a long time and wasn't quite sure he was on the right road, but it didn't matter. There was a winding road ahead of him and he was driving aggressively.

A dead raccoon had been in the road all day. All of the other vehicles on the road were able to successfully navigate their cars around it, but that was because they were going the speed limit. Nathan sped up a short hill and saw the object in the road. Unsure of what it was, he swerved into the opposite lane. He overreacted. The swerve was one of driving inexperience. At those speeds, he had no idea how the car would handle and the avoidance maneuver spelled out his fate. The car's rear tires horizontally slid across the pavement at more than 80 miles per hour, trying to catch up to the direction he was steering. The attempts to steer the car straight were futile. A small dip in the road caused the driver side of the car to float over the pavement and when the tires made contact with the street again, it sent the car rolling ferociously down the road. When the top of the car bounced off the pavement it caused Nathan's head to smash into the roof knocking him unconscious. The second roll caved in the driver side of the car, shattering his left knee completely. After a third complete roll, the car slowed enough that it finally came to a pause standing on its passenger side it then gently rolled back onto its roof.

The night was quiet and black clouds covered the stars. The force from the crash ignited memories in Nathan's unconscious mind. Random electrical signals in his brain triggered a dream-like memory inside. The night of Thanksgiving dinner when he was five years old grew ablaze. It was the moment when the Dansen family sat down for dinner. The house of four was quiet, all the food was placed on the table and a chandelier served as the main source of light hanging from the center of the dining room. Nathan's parents, Jerry and Claire, sat at the heads of the table while he sat across from his brother, Will.

"Hey Mom, how come people sometimes hold hands before they eat?" Nathan asked while looking at her towards the far end of the table.

"Well, that's only something people do if they believe in God." Claire responded as she scooped corn onto her plate.

"Do we believe in God?" Asked Nathan.

"No, that's just a stupid story," Will butted in.

"It's just a story, Mom?"

"It's a story that a lot of people believe is true, and before every meal they pray to God thanking him for what he gave them. We believe that we have everything because of our own hard work. Nothing is given to you in this world; everything you have is because you earned it." The affirmation in Claire's voice wouldn't have been any different had she been talking to a Priest.

"My friend in school says that God lets you into heaven when you die." Nathan continued the conversation.

"That's part of the story they believe, Baby." Calling a religion a 'story' was something she reserved for her family and close friends.

"Well what happens when we die?"

"We don't know what happens. A lot of people like to think they'll go to some magical place, but nobody knows for sure."

Jerry was patiently eating his dinner, hoping the conversation would end on its own. He had a sensitive spot for religion as his mother and father were Christians. He chose to give up his faith when his career turned around due to his hard work and dedication which was something he did with encouragement from Claire. She was persuasive with her logic and Jerry was attracted to her strong will. This was Thanksgiving dinner however, and respect was demanded here more so than typical family dinners.

"It's not some magical place-" Jerry spoke slowly and calmly, continuing to chew a small bite of food. "-It's called Heaven." Ingesting the remaining bite, he finished his comment as he regained his full voice. "And there are a lot of people in this world who believe that when you die, you go to Heaven." Taking a hard, long look across the table at his wife, he felt pleased to say what he wanted. Then he muttered for clarification, "I used to think that, but not anymore."

"Just because someone says we go somewhere when we die doesn't mean it's true." Claire paused for a second, realizing this was a good moment to try and reinforce her beliefs in her youngest child. "And we don't like to believe in things that aren't proven to be true."

"Gramma says we go to heaven when we die." Nathan said innocently.

"Jerry, I told you to talk to her about filling our children's mind's with lies!"

Without breaking focus on his plate of food, Will said, "Jean's an idiot, Nate. Don't listen to her."

"Hey! Don't say that about your Grandmother!" Jerry said sharply as he paused his feasting.

"That's what Mom says!" Countered Will.

The dining room fell silent for a few seconds. Jerry had to think about what to say next. "She can believe in what she wants. Now, I told her to stop talking about religion with Nathan, she doesn't listen to me though." The words fell from Jerry's mouth sounding defeated.

"Jean is one of those people who believe when you die, you go to Heaven. But we don't know that for sure so we don't waste our time with that nonsense, okay?" Claire had a specific tone that ended these types of conversations. Her voice grew faint and distant; the memory began to fade.

A breeze crept through the surrounding trees and made its way to the remains of the wrecked cars. The smoke from both of the cars connected with each other and disappeared upwards into the sky. Hissing from the vehicles scared away any odd creatures who might curiously approach the vehicles. Slowly, but surely, the dying sounds of the cars were absorbed by the surrounding forest. A single owl, perched in one of the trees, hooted as death’s silence filled the night.

The dream inside Nathan’s mind was leaving, but making room for another one. It was as if someone was peering into his past and selecting which chapter to play. The memory of Jerry's last moment alive began to glow. Nathan was just a boy, only five years old. Jerry was driving home and had to park his car on the street because Nathan was playing in the driveway. Will was at the park down the street with some neighbors and Claire was inside about to begin making dinner.

The people who drove through the neighborhood were mostly locals and they knew kids often occupied the street. On this day though, as the sun was beginning to rest for the night, a drunk driver travelled down their road. Fred, distracted by the shining tops of his beer cans, leaned over to the passenger side to grab one off the floor and steered directly into Jerry. His full-size truck wasn't going that fast, only 35 miles per hour, but the solid steel front bumper caught Jerry in the chest and smashed him into his own parked car.

The terrifying sound of a vehicle crashing and crunching then speeding off was what triggered Claire to run outside and find Nathan, who was already next to Jerry. At first glance it looked as if he was part of the car with his back seemingly molded into it. Claire knew he wasn't supposed to be attached to the car in that way, so she pulled him out and placed him onto the ground. Jerry was bleeding now with Claire and Nathan kneeling beside him, watching his life spill from his orifices.

"Call 9-1-1!!" Claire yelled at her neighbor.

She stared into his eyes, unsure of what to say. "The ambulance is on its way, Honey." Her eyes were dry as she was unable to truly digest the situation.

His wife and youngest son by his side, Jerry laid on the street with his back to the cold pavement. He coughed up a dark, thick, almost black mucus in between breaths. The blood coming out of his mouth couldn’t resist the tantalizing charm of death’s song.

"Don't. . ." The blood in his mouth was making it difficult to speak. "Be. . . Afraid." He didn't look at anyone or anything in particular. The grey sky reflection was turning black in his eyes. He didn't have more than a moment to live and he knew it. Claire began to cry uncontrollably and Nathan, who was on his knees with his hands on his dad's shoulder, didn't know what was going on. He stared into his father's eyes desperately searching for something he could understand, but there was nothing. Jerry, with all the power left in his body, locked eyes with his son and said, "Don't be afraid."

"I'm not," and Nathan began to cry as if a wave of emotions finally broke the sea wall.

The life inside Jerry faded away; his eyes didn't have anything behind them now. Nathan saw his dad looking at him, but he couldn't feel the connection. He waited for a blink or a wink, but there was nothing. He wasn't as sad as he was confused. His Dad was right there in front of him and he was physically touching his body, but Jerry was dead.

Where are you father? Where did you go?

Nathan was now regaining consciousness and the dreams in his mind were fading. Bits and pieces from Thanksgiving and that late afternoon remained lit, lingering inside him like déjà vu. He never felt more alone in his life than he did now, inside his wrecked car. Nathan's hands were hanging above his head, motionless. The breeze coming from the broken window tickled his eyes open.

I'm alive.

Gravity took hold of him, snatching him towards the ground. The seat-belt was all that held Nathan in place and he needed to get out of there. The urge to get upright and walk served as his only priority. As he undid the seat-belt, he fell and smashed the top of his head against the hard metal roof. Nathan was in such a weak state that it didn't take much to knock him unconscious again. His mind went black and filled with a dream.

Nathan's Grandmother, Jean, was taking care of him when he was a young boy, only a few years after Jerry's death. Cartoons were on the television and Jean was sitting next to Nathan, doing a crossword puzzle. Will was playing in a spare bedroom with toys he brought over.

"Gramma, what happens when we die?" Nathan asked as he watched an animated man get shot with a bow and arrow.

"You go up to Heaven, sweetie. Only if you're good though." Jean said proudly.

"What if you're bad?"

"You go down to Hell."

"How do I be good, Gramma?"

She let out a soft chuckle. A child's innocence was something she didn't see very often. "Well, you have to believe in God and live your life according to his plan."

"Oh, okay." Nathan's response signified the immaturity of a child's understanding.

"God wants us all to live a certain way. And if we do that then we'll go to Heaven when we die."

"How do we do that?"

"It's easy, Nathan. He has Ten Commandments he wants us to live by. They're sort of rules that he wants us to follow throughout our lives."

"What rules?" Nathan asked, wondering if he had broken any already.

Jean placed the crossword puzzle down on her lap and looked over to Nathan. "He wants us to believe in only him as our God, and worship only him. Don't use his name in vain which means don't say anything bad about him or use his name in a bad way. He wants us to rest on Sundays and respect our mother and father. He doesn't want you to steal from anyone or kill any living thing. He doesn't want you to lie and he wants you to be happy with what you have, because that's what he has provided for you."

Nathan sat on the couch, unsure of what to think about the confusing rules God wanted him to live by.

"Oh! And when you get older and get married, he wants you to stay true to your wife."

"I'm not getting married, that's gross!" He knew that for sure.

Jean couldn't hold back a whole-hearted laugh. "You will when you grow up, honey. If not, that's fine too." She leaned closer to Nathan, lowered her voice and said, "I always thought that believing in God and knowing he was with you at all times was good enough to get you up to Heaven. So, even if you don't follow all of those rules, just believe in God and that Jesus Christ is our savior and you'll be okay." She tried to cover up what she just said by saying it quickly and ending with a wink.

Nathan sat there, honestly trying to take the newfound information in as best a child possibly could.

The memory began to disappear and the immediate effects of Nathan's concussed mind were subsiding. He was regaining consciousness and as he struggled to get himself into a manageable position for escaping the wreckage, he glanced out of the driver's side window and noticed the rain drops falling beautifully towards the pavement. Each individual droplet falling with purpose, having a predetermined end point in their journey, guided by a constant force. The splashes were illuminated by two bright lights which were growing larger and larger. A big, lifted truck headed towards Nathan at a very high speed. It took numerous blinks to clear his eyes, then as he stared into the lights, they paralyzed him, making it impossible to move in any direction. Unexplained feelings and emotions ran through his mind.

Why am I alone?

Where is my father?

What happens when we die?

With his eyes wide open, he was unsure of what he was seeing as the truck came closer and closer. His eyes were suddenly met with a captivating pure white light which surrounded him entirely. He looked around but could not move his head. He tried to twist and shake his body in order to gain some sort of idea of where he was, but no luck. The words, "Don't be afraid," found themselves stumbling out of his mouth.

Finally, something began to appear out in front of him. Slowly approaching him were two hands, palms facing forward. A shadowy light-grey figure seemed to be the shape of a man, but it was hazy and only the extended hands were truly defined. He could only focus on the hands coming for him and that shadowy, off-white figure. It came to a stop a few feet in front of him with the palms still facing him, and a voice spoke. It wasn't Nathan's, and it didn't come from the figure in front of him; it came from everywhere at once, as if a thousand speakers surrounded him and played at a comforting volume. The figure stretched out one of its hands and said very clearly and slowly:

"Son. . . I'm here. . . We can be together now. . . Come to me. . ."

Feelings surged through Nathan like a giant river dam finally reaching its breaking point. He knew where he was now and he embraced the moment. He could feel the muscles on his face stretching the corners of his mouth from ear to ear. His eyes watered, not from the surrounding white light but from the joy of knowing where he was.

Barely able to speak as steady streams of tears rolled down his face, he whispered, "I'm here." His eyes were the only things bigger than his smile, and he reached up with both hands, laughing and crying, "I'm not afraid."