Author Topic: My short Storie: Canned Foods  (Read 1365 times)

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Offline BigLuv

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My short Storie: Canned Foods
« on: April 07, 2009, 09:26:31 AM »
hey tell me what you think please I worte a short storie and i need some feedback thanks

LUCAS LAWSON
Canned Foods
Speaking out loud to no one and hearing nothing the young boy is immersed in a night full of silence.  Hungry, lonely and scared the boy seeks refuge in the unavoidable disparity of solitude.  He wonders if his mother even thinks of him while she is out.   This is day two now he always hopes she is ok.  “I have school in the morning!” he tells his favorite stuffed animal, a big what used to be white colored bear that has been through twelve different  residents and thirteen different schools with the boy.  The boy everyone called Luke jumps up from drawing and heads into the kitchen.  He scans for food, his belly is rumbling more frequently as he is experiencing hunger pains.  Spotting a box of Rice Krispies cereal it brought back memories of the time he poured a bowl of cereal only to be horrified that the box was filled with cockroaches.  Assuring himself that canned foods are totally free of such pests, he only eats out of canned items from his house.  Dragging a chair to climb the counter he grabs a meal in a can and locates the can opener, after continually hurting his finger on the thin metal opener he clutches the can and throws it violently into the fridge door.  The can planted a tremendous dent in the fridge, the pain and stress of the boys evening evaporated after his brief loss of control.   
The boy’s life is that of struggles he has become good at overcoming such trials.  Like most children he tended to his routine after he ate, showered, and prepared his self for bed.   Food in his belly and a clean body is a combination rarely experienced by the youngster.  He was pleased although he was lonely and desperate for attention, his accomplishments kept him moving forward.  Excited about school he lays his head down next to his dirty bear and closes his eyes. 
   Momentarily his stress and fear dissipate into his dreams.  The moment was concise with all the effort taken to gain such peace; it all came crashing down with a harsh noise from the living room.  Many voices and noises filled the other room’s loud chatter, yelling, rowdy, and vulgar remarks found their way to the young man’s room.  The anxiety of not knowing who or what all the noise is about filled the boy’s head, till he heard a familiar voice that seemed to be in the middle of all the commotion.  The familiar voice was shaky, and slurred.  Lying his head back down with a touch of relief that he was not going to be toted away and become the next victim on the next America’s Most Wanted episode.  The racket was keeping the child up, the loss of his mother’s voice frightened, and angered him.  “I have to see what’s going on out there bud,” as he tucked the bear under the covers and looked to him for courage.  Luke stood staring at the door surveying the eerie shadows at the base of the door while the interlopers stride by.  He reaches out towards the door handle, a quick turn and a slow push. 
   Once immersed in the silence of the solitude night the boy now finds himself engrossed amongst strangers now hushed by his presence.  Loneliness is now a desired feeling he wishes to revisit.  He obtains his strength from anger and fear continuing toward the strange men, not a woman in sight, not evens his mother.  He directed his question to the loud, animated man who was sporting a “do-rag” on top of his head that featured a nude woman which complimented his matching tattoo. “Where is my mom at?”  The young child stands his ground and keeps eye contact.  “She’s busy!” he barked, “Its way past your bedtime boy, now run along before you go and get yourself in trouble.”  The boy didn’t turn away he looked the strange man in the eye and stated “I didn’t ask that I asked where was she!”  The man not to be talked back to in front of his friends raised his hand and smacked him across the mouth.  “Now off you go smart ass!”  The strike was painful and almost knocked the young brave Luke off his feet.  The boy did not hurry off to his room; he stood there balling his fist as tight as he could pray for the moment he could return the favor.  Laughter not only filled the room, but also fueled his anger. He turned and let them have their laugh.  “I said off to bed you need to go to sleep Boy!” Luke turned and shouted as he headed to the kitchen “I can’t sleep when you all are keeping me up!”  Tears rolled down the child’s face as his emotions fluctuated throughout his tiny body. His face was flushed, as red as if it were on fire.  As he entered the ill lit kitchen he spotted the dent on the fridge.  He picked up a can of food, anger turned to focus, focus turned to actions.
   Quickly Luke moved the chair to the counter, climbed up and grabbed every single can of food out of the cabinets.  After acquiring over thirty cans of food he quickly stacked them next to the kitchen door. He reached into the pocket of his sweatpants and retrieved the pocket knife his grandfather had given him.  He opened the knife and placed it on the kitchen table, taking the time to hang the handle of the knife off the table so it would be easier to grab if needed.  The nervousness of the child was replaced with a deep calm. Focused, he picks up his daily food rations of Chef Boyardee with one in each hand.  The boy acted quickly, within a second of opening the door the man started in on him “I’ve had about enough of you boy, now get yerr-uggGH!” The family size can of Beefaroni smashes the loud, arrogant man directly in the nose.  The sound of canned food shattering his nose was unsettling, yet gratifying to the young man.  He unleashed an air raid keeping the majority of the aim on the man that had previously struck him. A child, who was so proud of himself earlier for getting through the lonely night, was revealing the emotions he was so used to burying.  The damage dealt by the boy ignited a fire of destruction, his anger at the situation and the world itself set him into a rage.  The lad directed the can bombardment toward the others; the ones who had laughed when he was struck.  One after another, the boy aimed in as they scattered to safety running out the front door of the house, which is exactly where he wanted them to be.  When he reached his last two cans, he pocketed the open knife and moved into the living room.  There lay three different men, he hurried to secure the front door.  One of the men inside demanded the young man drop the cans now, as he sat up from being knocked out.  His unsure vocal patterns ensured the young boy that he was not to worry much about him, but he obliged the man by launching one more into the back of his skull. 
   “You never hit women or children!” he screamed as he knew he had taken control of the situation.  Luke picked the phone up and called 911. “Help I hear people fighting in my living room,” he whispered as if he were a distressed child hiding under a bed.  The boy hung the phone up the men outside looking in overheard the phone call and took off.  The boy turned to the man that hit him, grabbed the economy size meal in a can and approached him.  The man, who was now moaning, his face covered in blood and his eyes full of confusion, looked up to see the young man’s blurry image standing over him.  The man eyes struggled to focus in on the young boy only to see the huge can come crashing down on his face.  Luke was done. He knew then he had hurt the man, the man that hurt him.  He stood over the three men with his knife open ready for anyone to raise their hand again.  Even after all the yelling to stop and commotion of heavy cans hitting the men, walls, and breaking items still his mother never surfaced out of her room.  This did not surprise Luke there has been many mornings he could not wake her even by screaming and shaking.  The police would wake her for him, they always did. He could see the approaching twitter of blue lights glistening in the dark night. This prompted the brave young man to move on to his bedroom. “I hurt him before he hurt us .” he whispered to his bear as he  laid his head down and tightly grasped the bear for comfort and to get a few hours of sleep before school.
  By. Lucas Lawson

jer_ran

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Re: My short Storie: Canned Foods
« Reply #1 on: April 07, 2009, 09:50:42 AM »
Big - Wow - I'm not any sort of english critic at all, but the way you wrote that allowed me to perfectly visualize what was going on.  Basically seeing the whole scene - impressive.

jer

Offline Scott H.

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Re: My short Storie: Canned Foods
« Reply #2 on: April 07, 2009, 10:49:48 AM »
Amazing! I was able to visualize everything, and was riveted.  :up:


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Offline Keith

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Re: My short Storie: Canned Foods
« Reply #3 on: April 07, 2009, 08:17:55 PM »
I think you did a good job on it.    I gotta go!

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Offline BobChase

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Re: My short Storie: Canned Foods
« Reply #4 on: April 08, 2009, 05:50:09 AM »
Poor little guy...

Nice work Lucas. You've got some skills.  :up:



Offline BigLuv

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Re: My short Storie: Canned Foods
« Reply #5 on: April 08, 2009, 12:02:39 PM »
I think you did a good job on it.    I gotta go!
 

first of all why the hell did you say you gotta go did i miss something..?

Second hey guys thanks i appreciate it.  I am currently working on a tons of short stories and then i will be compile'n them into a book.  This is a true story verbatim, i left out the part where i stabbed the guy in the leg with the knife, I was kinda "embarassed" or I just didnt want my class to think i was a psyco... Writing this stuff down has proven to be a very theraputic solution to some inner demons so i will continue especially when i get feedback as such thanks again

Offline BobChase

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Re: My short Storie: Canned Foods
« Reply #6 on: April 08, 2009, 12:22:16 PM »
WHOA! Didn't realize this was a personal story.

Good on you for being strong enough to put it out there for everyone.


 



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