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18+ Language Violence Mature Content

In Our Own Twisted Place We Call Home

by djmeitar2

Warning: This work has been rated 18+ for language, violence, and mature content.

This is a little dark story I have been working on for a while. It might include some grammatical mistakes here and there, or misunderstanding. On the whole, I hope to have your educated opinion, and I  embrace critiques. This is yet to be modified. Please make every remark you can. I cling to that.

“Hello Mrs. Brock. I am detective assistant Rami and I am about to go through the report general details with you and ask you some questions. Let me sort the papers out for a minute and then be begin.”, says a police officer as he examines the scattered, out-of-order papers, trying to rearrange them with very little interest.

“Of course.”, she replies.

“Okay. Not much forensic and technical details were noted here but we’re talking about the following: a shriek was heard by you. Running steps are heard immediately. Two bodies. One due to several shots and another one due to what seems like an overdose of an unknown drug yet to be tested. Tell me about it, will you?”

“Oh, I will. Shrieks coming out of our neighbors’ house are not very uncommon to say the least. Only a week ago I observed a strange, inexplicable behavior; that was Larisa running out of the house, screaming and crying. A thick rope falling off of her.”

With his attention divided, partially dedicated to put the pages back in order, he rids himself with “Larisa?”, still making an effort to keep up in any tenuous way. Thus seeing a negligible “Larisa” in one of the many, fully detailed papers, fixed it. “Larisa, indeed. So what was it all about?”.

Actually, it was my understanding that…”, she begins when a baffled expression comes to her face, “she was indicted. She, thus, was overwhelmed.”

A week before:

Larisa, you are facing a long period of time in this shithole for larceny, unless you come clean. Then- we can have a deal”, one, then, said overzealously.

I haven’t stolen anything of persistent value and you know that. Besides, I really needed it. You know how I be when I don’t have it. Why do this to me?”, begs heartbroken Larisa, again, back then.

But I also happen to know how you be when you over-have it. I am no fool. But for the propriety and intactness of the process, assume as command that I am no acquaintance, and that I neither acknowledge nor uphold any antecedent motive or rationality you might have had during a commitment of a crime.”, he reproaches.

I don’t like it here”, she resumes, “Please, anything but staying in this vault screaming out ever-lasting agony one more day.”, sobs poor, hungry Larisa in a room containing nothing but an environmentally incompatible table, and a pair of chairs.

“As humanity have learnt, there is an alternative. There always is. I’ll tell you what you’re gonna do. What say you?”.

“I am at your mercy.”.

“There is a guest waiting for you. She wishes to see you. We will now go to the visit room and you will both get some privacy.”.

The visit occurs in another empty room, where between Larisa and the guest named Shenya separates a clumsily-set glass block. The one eavesdrops, and getting ahold of something severe, he rushes back into the room, stating, outraged, “you just get yourself a death penalty.”.

At the moment:

“Indicted, ha?”, says the officer with fading interest as if weren’t little enough.

“Well, she wouldn’t confess to it when I sat with her, trying to figure it out. Anyway, I simply walked her back to her residence, which she was hesitant about. Curiously enough, she would have more likely been indicted later on after stealing food from a local store. No one, however, caught her in action.”.

A week before:

“What you had just plotted with Sheyna would have put people in great danger. I am sure a lesson was learned. The offer is still on the table. Here, some ice. Good for your neck.”, says the one, who is back to sense.

A few hours before(the crime):

“Congrats, kid. You’ve really, literally, outdone yourself. Let’s celebrate.”, says the one, overzealous for different, non-abusive reasons. He then pulls out this magic bag of sweet white powder.

“Come on Sean, did you just take all the washing powder we have left? should I mention to you how invaluable it is these days?”, responds another one, baffled. A girl.

“I don’t think you guys get it. You are about to have a revelation. A feast. A tipsy dance. Gimme a dollar, Sheyna.”, he proclaims.

“We are out of money, are you kidding?”, she reminds him.

“Oh right. No biggie. We take it by mouth.”, he concludes, “you’ll be baked soon.”

“So, baking soda, perhaps?”, she throws, sarcastically. Larisa Laughs at the comment, not entirely understanding.

“Coke, baby, coke.”.

“Sweet!”, Sheyna says with her eyes glazed as if she were already under the effect of the magical, sweet white powder. Larisa’s eyes were glazed as well, but for a clear reason. A neglected one, perhaps.

Larisa seems hesitant. Sean observes that and reassures: “Remember the conversation we had a few days ago. You are going to need it the most. Take my word for it.”.

He was right, in a way. The feast begins, all playing along. All play with one another. Larisa indeed seems to be affected the most, intoxicated with a sweet drug her mouth was starting to miss, and her body, as it seemed now and then, was starting to lack.

Sean obeys his urges and starts to hunt Sheyna down.

“Please. Let me. We had a lot of fun last time. It plays our bodies. So pleasantly it pushes down our secret keys.”, he describes as seductively as the eternally-punished snake from Heaven would. And the current Heaven is yet to be taken away.

“I don’t know. I think it is a bad idea. Let not the moment be ruined. Just embrace it, enjoy.”

Back to now:

By now, the officer is confident enough with the order of the pages to the extent of placing them neatly between the base and the fangs of an executory stapler, letting a big pound, and sealing its fate, forcing a narrative, somewhat typically of this authority in some cases.

“Once liberated, they believed they were living in a scene, yet they were living in sin. Sodomy. Violence. God damned psychoactive drugs.”, Mrs. Brocks added, shaking her head with deep sorrow, concealing a variety of emotions. “I adored them, but God has his ways to purify our holy lands. His.”, she presumed with great temerity.

“Mrs., I might not be paying attention as much as I should have, but not even once have my intuitions betrayed me. You are hiding something. It is within my authority to keep you here, and I can assure you that whatever it is you are hiding, whatever way in which you have to do with this crime, we will find it out sooner or later, and believe me, focusing on you, the sooner, the better.”.

“I know I did something wrong. But they mattered to me so much. In some point, however, I found out about their horrific lifestyle. Unguided, though, I knew they were going against the Lord and that they were forever helpless from some point. I would visit them every night for two weeks, starting three weeks ago. I brought them food, which they depended on. That day, as usual, I paid a warm visit. I realized everyone’s upstairs. On my way to fix me a glass of water first, I ran into a fat pile of sacks full of white powder, which, as from this very evening I assume to be cocaine. I thought I could make things worked, so I reported nothing.”. says Mrs. Brock, sobbing strongly.

“The substance Is still in the lab for now, but go on.”

“I went up the stairs, entered a room where those awful sounds came from. There they were, Sean and Sheyna, engaging in this satanic activity. I took off, and gave them up.”.

“Satanic activity? You gotta help me out here, because sex, assuming this is what you were referring, is a very normal activity.”

“You can’t suggest that this is a moral deed, what I just described, given the details, can you?”.

Shortly before:

“I embrace the moment. I enjoy it. But I don’t wish to limit myself. I am the man of the house, after all.”, Sean says, or perhaps even threatens. Both He and Shenya have been remiss in keeping an eye on Larisa, who, according to her pace, will have been consumed too much of the dubious powder. She falls down. Her heartbeat and breath ceased. Shenya freaks out and try to reach for the telephone. Sean does not like this idea, which could put people in great danger. He pulls out a secret gun and points it at her: “Hands. Off. The fucking. Telephone. Now.”.

“What is it good for? Ha? Man of the house? What house? Living like this was a mistake for the very beginning. Wanna shoot me? Go for it. Our lives are a mess anyway.”, she says while making a call. Sean shoots her twice. One bullet in the throat. The other one in forehead. Then, insanely, he drops the weapon, and runs. A few final shots and the scene they lived in endeth and ready to go, replaced by a new one called a “crime scene”.


“Why did you start visiting your neighbors regularly only three week ago?”, the officer asks suspiciously.

“This is when their mom left. Just packed and took off, leaving three kids alone. No father in the picture.”.

“Kids?! What? It makes no sense!”, the officer shouts while going through the supposedly organized papers. He was shocked to learn that there was a paper he overlooked. The first paper, made to be the last.

“The apartment described above is the legal property of Sandra Altman, a single mother to Sean Altman- 12 years old, Sheyna Altman- 12 years old, and Larisa Altman- 10 years old.”. – “Shit! How come you didn’t report about it? Can you imagine what it would be like if your own children were left, neglected, no authorities or supervision?”

“That’s my point officer. I have no Children. I never had. I am all alone. Now one to read a bed time story. No one to feed. No one to tuck in. This is what God wants for me. He brought misery upon me. I am doomed.” she sobs with heart-melting sorrow.

"Mrs., you have great responsibility and a big part in that matter. I don't know what to say besides that this is far from over for you.".

The officer is paged to the crime scene and catches up with the experts. By his way there he walks into a room with nothing but an unfitting table and a pair of chairs. Makes his way through a room with a block of glass standing clumsily. He then findS the man in charge and catches up with her.

“They were little kids who were mostly idle and afraid. Got influenced easily by movies not suited for them. Soon they found themselves running an imagined autonomous system of rules, duties, while desiring an also fictitious criminal lifestyle. The horrendous game has, eventually, become a reality. Larisa had diabetes and was lacking indispensable medical care. It is now assessed that her blood sugar levels where dangerously high. We still check the drug possibility.”

A little time ago:

“What a sick, sad game the poor kids played. A questioning room. Actual jail, with a visiting room and visiting hours; a fucking execution room with a hanging rope, a freaking gun. All a big show. So fucked up”, says John, a forensic scientist, to his partner, Julia, to whom he just got engaged.

“You forgot to mention the cocaine.”, she corrects.

John opens one of the still-closed, magic, sweet white powder, gets some on his finger, runs it through her wet lower lip and announces:

“sugar, baby, sugar.”.

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9 Reviews

Points: 602
Reviews: 9

Sun Aug 28, 2016 1:11 pm
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heath wrote a review...

this is a whirlwind of action that immediately sweeps you along once you start reading. it is a patchwork scenes that cause the audience to ask questions and does deserve the title of mystery. there are some spelling, grammatical, and capitalization errors, so i recommend that next time, before you publish, skim the story and check for mistakes. my main concern is while mysteries are supposed to leave you in the dark about a lot of things, this one takes it way to far, illustrated by the following:

- we barely know what is going on each time the narrator jumps to a new scene. there is no description, no starting point; it is almost always in the heat of the moment, when the argument becomes fierce or when the witness has finally been coaxed to talk or when everybody has already had their fair share of cocaine/sugar. it is important to take breaks from the action to build up to the scene.

- no setting or description of senses. is it in a city? a rural area? is the paint peeling and are roaches skittering about the chipped floor, or does the furniture smell like new leather and air freshener? reading some of it is akin to drifting through an unclear dream with tunnel vision; there is no character to be focused on, no description of how birds don't chirp outside or how the office chair in the police station spares the backs of no one. talking about what everything looks like, feels like, smells like helps establish the mood of a scene.

- new characters pop up like whack-a-moles and then swiftly disappear, never to be spoken of again. this may be you playing with the theory of chekhov's gun, and if so, i applaud you. however, making fun of this theory does not include not giving us any sort of background information on the characters. build up what they look like and how their voices sound, and how they came to be in that place.

- the last paragraph may only be confusing to myself: what exactly does he mean by "sugar, baby, sugar"? if he flat out just said "sugar", or "it's not cocaine", it would be a lot less hard to understand, but it's difficult to tell if he's just tampering with illegal drugs and using nicknames for them. he sounds like he's joking around and calling it "sugar".

overall, this story has a lot of potential.

djmeitar2 says...

Thank you a lot for that! It means a lot to me. I will make a confession: I did have a setting, descriptions, and states of mind reported. However, I made a deal with the devil and excluded them, making the story as short as possible, presumably guaranteeing a chance for recognition and reference, which I now partially regret. I also don't like splitting my works, as I need guidance and recognition, and people tend to lose interest. These will be modified once I apply all the modifications with respect to all your indispensable reviews. Thank you very much.

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137 Reviews

Points: 428
Reviews: 137

Sun Aug 28, 2016 11:58 am
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MissGangamash wrote a review...

Happy Review Day!

I am in two minds about this story. There is a lot of grammatical errors that make it difficult to read. The jumps between past and present are confusing. I thought that the part about Larisa running out of the house with rope around her was the night they were talking about, but then I later find out she is one of the bodies.

I don't understand the significance of 'the one' and then later there is another 'one'. Who are these 'ones', it isn't explained.

I like the reveal at the end that they are just children and the 'coke' is just sugar but it doesn't make much sense. Larisa died of an unknown drug yet later she died of high sugar levels. And this Detective Assistant Remi is incredibly incompetent if he doesn't even know the ages of the bodies in the case he is questioning and for him to not know that they are all related. Surely that is incredibly simple information?

Also, how could the neighbour really just leave the house without telling the police about the bags of what she thinks is coke? These are three children. Plus, I think a grown woman would know the different between sugar and cocaine.

I like that the end 'sugar, baby, sugar' links back to 'coke, baby, coke'. Also, when it is revealed that the children are just copying movies that they had watched, the way that they talk to each other makes sense - they do sound like a bunch of thugs in a movie trying to live the high life with drugs and sex.

All in all, I like the idea but it needs a lot of work. The grammar needs sorting out and the story itself is very shaky and doesn't make much sense.

djmeitar2 says...

Hey, thank you. First, it is SO good and fulfilling to have someone review you work. Yes, there are A LOT of inconsistencies, and I did modify the original document, but didn't bother to update the published version on the site, and have been remiss in stressing out that the sugar is not but sugar POWDER, that the neighbor is fanatic and dubious as well, and that the Officer truly is highly indifferent, having no interest in going further beyond technical details, just wanting to be done and go home. Now as for the grammar- when it is about uncommon form of speech, I was doing a lot of research so as to make sure the grammar is correct and have been used in the past. When it is about common mistakes, I may have overlooked as well as I may have not known these indeed were mistakes. I am not native, and when it comes to mistakes, pointing them out would be utterly needed, but I go over everything again.
I don't know if it was noticed, but the kids themselves change the way they talk as part of this game they have been playing, building different characters.

Memories, left untranslated, can be disowned; memories untranslatable can become someone else’s story.
— YiYun Li