Sam lay on the bed. It was well past one in the morning. His only source of light bled from the tiny panes in the window, causing the shadows to jump and dance around him. Like the evil spirits, they never failed to baffle him. "Lay down. Stop fighting. Lay down." He heard the words again, felt the strong, muscular, rough hands against his thighs. The hands, callused, bleeding from his fight. "Lay down you son a bitch. Lay down!!!" The words still screamed in his head, pulsing, biting, like this teeth, digging into the knuckles. Dragging. He heard the voice in his ear, felt the legs shoving him down. "Stop fighting!" Sam glanced down at his hands, still shaking, vividly moving in the shadows. He was gone now, it was over. They all said it. He wasn't coming back. "That man's in jail now. Nothing to fear...nothing." But the memories. They are what I fear. They fight me long after he has stepped away. You think the last part, where he finally got what he wanted, you think that is the worst. Sam cups his hands over his face and tastes the salt from his eyes. But you are so wrong. The salty, warm tears. When he leaves, when he's standing at the door, laughing, and your skin is burning, and head is twisting, that is the bad part. The worst part. Morning. Morning. He cursed morning now. He took the gift of light and tossed it. Sam sit's up. Pay's a glance to the digital beside the bed. 2:00 am. He's been here all night. They've been fighting him since the darkness called war. Sam can hear the warm waters pounding the edge of the beach outside, the rain gently soothing the windows.
Sam fell into a drift of sleep, slowly, the rain singing him back towards nothing. The knocking again, he hears it. Tap. Knock. Smack. Bang. "Let me in. I have something for you." And his voice. Strong. Does he like it? No. He says nothing. The door is not locked. The shadow, faceless stands in the frame. He sits on the bed. Says he wants to say something. Who are you? Do I know you? Don't come too close. I said no. Please stop. Please.
No one is home. It is evening, the sound of the crickets and dogs and the surf pounding against the beach. At the time, Sam was only 11. He would turn 12 within the next month. How would he know?
Who are you, what are you doing here? Who are you? No reply. Hands, dirty, rough. How did you get in here? Something cold against Sam's face. The shadows of this man have blinded him. What did he do? Stopp!?! Please stop. No more. Please. Leave me here. Let me go!
Sam sits up. His brow is covered in sweat. His hair, thin and blonde sticks to his neck. In these times he tries to tell himself it was just a dream. But one look at his bruised legs, his hands, scars. It was not a dream. Don't lie. It's not over. He's given me a weight I will carry around for the rest of my life. You think he did me a favour, when he didn't kill me. Oh, but he knew the game. This is worse than death. This is the pain you will burden me with while you walk and remember. No pain. Just gain.
"What if they let him out again?" He asked that once. To the shrink. "What if they do?" "They won't let him out. "He'll never see you again. Just calm down. It's over now."
That evil laugh. That's never over. Sam lays his head back on the pillow, his breath coming in a raggid pulse. Breathing with the surf. The shadows. The memories.
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125,006 Literary Works • 672,809 Reviews
Hello there! I said I wanted to continue with your works, thus I have returned. I think that short stories, or almost here, flash fiction judging by how short this is, is an interesting genre to see how effectively one could write and draw in a reader in few words.
I find it interesting that you've used the third person view here, as a sort of contrast to the majority of your works that I've seen so far. I think that the third person usually lets the author fill in details in an easier way of presenting that to the reader, such as talking about family or something akin to that. I'm going to assume that a couple of lines containing "I" were typos, or meant to be quoted, as in the direct thoughts of Sam. That had thrown me off for a second there.
Continuing on, this is a fairly short piece to be combining both the past and present tenses, with what seems to be the "now" scenario opening this story, with bits of flashbacks to a very traumatizing and horrible event for anyone to go through, let alone a young child.
The tense changes work to an extent, but I think the massive block that is the first paragraph throws off the reader, as do the few grammar mistakes that contain both tenses as well. However, by showing how much this event affected Sam, it does help connect with the reader by having the character refer back to what happened in flashes of pain and hurt.
I feel very saddened towards what I assume was (trigger warning: r*pe) that happened to this kid at an early age, barely 11 years old. The way that you've written this really does cause the reader to sympathize with Sam, as they can clearly see with the sparse details how that would have affected his character and want him to be able to be happy even after something like that.
If this was a newer work, then I would ask for warnings including a language and maturity one, even with a young main character.
Overall, this is really sad and hard to read once the reader is aware of what's being described back to them by this young man.
Pretty good. You hooked me within the first few sentences. The tone was appropirate, and you definitely made me want to know more.
There are a few grammar notes I have:
(1) Sit's should be sits.
(2) Pay's should be pays
(3) lays should be lies. I know we often use lay when refering to people, but technically lay only refers to objects.
(4) The first big paragraph need to be broken up where the dialogue is. That will also make it easier to read on line.