Young Writers Society

Wrote this for Creative Writing. Could I please get feedback if the plot and idea is expressed clearly enough or that if it requires the reader to think to hard about the story. Thank you.

Hallucinational Beach

I see the house I lived in for years in the way it really was. The shutters were wobbly and the door never closed; the paint is a cheap Wal-Mart moldy peanut butter. At least it blended in with the rest of the neighbors I reason. That horrid neighborhood, the broken sidewalks and the one-way street that seems to lead to nowhere. The backyard looks unused by children, just a few garbage bags, a broken fence, and some leaves from the fall before. I would have hated this place if I didn’t live with my eyes closed.

“How ya doing Dominy?” a familiar voice creeps over my shoulder. As I turn my head I instantly lose my breath with awe to see my good neighbor watching my scene with his cup of joe.

“Phil, isn’t it good to see you,” shaking his hand repetitively then hugging all together, “I heard about the accident Phil, I mean we all did. I’m just happy you’re with us. How is the family?”

“Appreciate it Dom, but I think everything will be alright,” Phil speaks as his eyes glisten with tears.

I see to it that Jack’s and Amity’s beds are made every morning and kept warm every night. The ghost stories I was responsible for circulating through their heads made me able to comfort them in the snatchy-thick air of those July nights. The house was ready for another day of mud trampling, caterpillar catching, eight and nine year old beautiful children I am so lucky to have. I see to it that everything was perfect, and then I wait for their smiling faces to bring my day to a purpose.

Buster barks his morning hunger snarl as my wife gets up and out of bed. I never feed Buster because I know it was one of the easy ways to get my wife out of her bed in the lonely mornings.

“How is Claire, Dominy?” the soft voice from my friend whispers. I stutter and stammer, then give a sigh.

“As good as she could be I would think.”

“But what happened Dominy? What did you do? Your kids,” he paused holding back those glistening droplets, “the last few months everyone has been worried and severely confused. I never thought I would see you here, but I guess it makes a sick kind of sense. What happened?”

For those of you have decided to take on the task of reading my story I want you to know that this single-handedly about me. Not about my loving wife, not about my two beautiful children that I knew I had to care for, not about the veil that blinded the true house in the slums of Detroit, or the paradise I thought it to be, this is about me. This out view on life is the primary reason why I spend everyday trying to make up for the lost time that I let slip by. I don’t tell you this trying to win your grief or to cause great perplexity that keeps you tossing and turning at night, but I explain my story because this is what I thought happened in the sense I saw it to be.

The Beach was where I spent a large portion of my life. I could be having the worst day of my life but nothing else mattered when my foot sank into the million sand crystals. I felt a sense of freedom and everything would be washed away. When I walked on The Beach, I was able to dip my feet if they got warm, I could choose to walk on smooth sand or sand that is tough from the water. Yet, I was never able to know what would happen. I could have been walking and stepped directly into a hole that a group of teenagers decided to bury their foolish friend in. I liked that about The Beach. Sometimes I’d feel like I was being drowned in the sand and other times it would be as if I could hold onto a cloud and pull myself onto it.

The sun reached toward a sky that pasteled itself in an assortment of blues and grays, protected by a misty haze, and shown for all to see. I put on my silky robe and looked out at the wondrous view. The pitter patter of the precisely cut waves sank into the assorted sand.

I was clearly one of the luckiest men. I had fallen hard for my wife, Claire, right out of law school, a woman who brought so much to me and struggled to keep things sane in my hectic life. Just as Claire kept me healthy, my beautiful children gave me resiliency and relieved the stressors of a man in law practice.

“Now hold it tight… that’s it. Now you’re going to have to run with it, get it up high in the air. Ready? Run. Run hard.”

My home ducked between two great willow trees and left a stroll to The Beach simple for an elderly woman to stop down for an afternoon dip. The front yard was always shaded; never once had it shifted its placement. My backyard had the best view and I could make out The Beach in the distance.

Life was good for a couple of years. The occasional death of a loved one, Santa’s Christmas gifts under the tree, a broken bone here and a chipped tooth there, but as a whole, things went smoothly. I thought everything was on the right track and we were the “all-American” family.

Then I started taking more and more trips down to The Beach. That’s right The Beach, where I felt good. Take the leash, call Buster for a walk, when the kids asked to come I would lie saying I would be going for a long walk and didn’t want them to get tired. Once out of the house I would tie Buster to a post and continue on my way to The Beach, lighting up as I drifted down the precisely carved walkway.

Claire always treated me in a special way. I heard her cry all the time at night. But when I asked her what was wrong she denied everything; things weren’t always great at The Beach.

I always got bad dreams. I dreamt of being away from My Beach, away from the powdery crystals that I snuffed up, the freedom I got from being on The Beach, and the troubles that always washed away. Sometimes I’d wake up in hot sweats and did what I did whenever I was troubled, I went to The Beach. In the dark and cold I felt more comforted then in any square-foot of my heated house. I laughed, I cried, I laughed again, and then I would cry soon after. It was horrible, but it was the best feeling in the world and I didn’t know what else to do.

My trips to the law firm lessened and lessened. Visits to Church faded away. Rides to the hospital seemed to speed up. I was put under oxygen masks many times, I was given shots to clean out my system, but I didn’t like them at all. Claire stopped wearing make-up and doing her hair. I stopped taking showers because I didn’t care. I knew I couldn’t take anyone to The Beach so I didn’t expect anyone to understand.

The dreams started to pour back and they were getting worst by the day.

I was on My Beach walking through the night, when I saw Jack and Amity pressed up on the shoreline. I screamed at them to get away, to go up to the house, to leave The Beach, but they didn’t listen. Jack and Amity were running around on the sand as if for the first time, laughing there heads off as I yelled at them.

“Go up to the house right now you two. I do not want you to ever go down here again! Do you understand me?!” I shouted until my throat went hoarse.

“Isn’t this great Amity? I can’t believe it took us so long. Hey Dad, you’re right, this is great! Give me more Amity.” Jack and Amity danced around as I sat there and cried to myself. Jack then went to the shore, picked up a rock and went to hurl it into the raging waters.

“No! Don’t you try it Jack.” I yelled at them.

I woke up and sat in bed for what seemed hours. I cried until my tears burned every pore on my face with their self-pitiful sorrow. I thought for a while and decided I had done too much to my family. I was a selfish punk-ass 10 year-old. At least I could admit it; I’ve heard that’s the first step to recovery. I had hit my low, and I knew there was one thing I could do.

I kissed my sweet Claire as she laid in her false comfort, then went to Jack and Amity’s room as they slept unsuspectingly in their small room. I thanked God and asked him to never let Jack and Amity know what I had put myself through. I walked down to The Beach and let my troubles run free. I didn’t laugh the last trip on The Beach though, I thought and I cried.

The sand crept into my mouth; I could feel it flowing down back of my throat. I laid there helplessly and motionless. The water slowly overflowed the beach, and I had pumped my veins full of concrete. I saw a series of red and blue lights with sirens followed by a bright white light and The Beach took my body over.

“So I just sit up here, watching down on them every day hoping that God kept true to his promise and I try to make my two child’s lives as easy and carefree as possible,” I whisper to Phil.

Years passed as I waited vigilantly for the thought of Jack and Amity coming to The Beach. And then they came. They came together, as I had dreamt and they looked horrible. I yelled down at them to leave The Beach and to never come back, but they couldn’t hear me as in the dream. Lightning bolts crashed down on the ground and they cried horrible cries. The bolts ceased and they began laughing and brushing away their tears. Jack snorted The Beach crystals into his nose, picked up a rock as Amity intently watched from behind. Jack made an attempt to skip the rock, but I would not have it. I forced the rock from the water and landed it on the beach. I continued my roar against them, pleading with them to leave. Jack, while sniffing another line, picked up the rock again and hurled it into the waters, and I again forced the rock from the water and hit him with it. They cried together and I never saw them walk the sandy shores again. They had tried what destroyed me, and I would not have it.

I’m not there to protect my kids from the problems of the world. So I sit up here watching down on them, watching them grow and watching them succeed. I see to it that Jack’s and Amity’s beds are made every morning and kept warm every night. The ghost stories I am responsible for circulating through their heads makes me able to comfort them in the snatchy-thick air of these July nights. The house is ready for another day of mud trampling, caterpillar catching, eight and nine year old beautiful children I am so lucky to have. I see to it that everything is perfect, and then I wait for their smiling faces to bring my day to a purpose.