Analisa’s Private Hell: Short Story, a Response to a Writing Challenge From Dzymslizzy
A note from me, a name I call myself
I decided to hijack another person’s (DzyMsLizzy) challenge after reading a story by Chis Mills and wrote a short flash story using the line
"Analisa sat alone on the park bench, the scowl on her face as dark as the gathering thunderclouds."
The story that came about isn’t very kid-friendly (as is most of my garbage). I didn't read the forum where the challenge was posted so I might not be following the challenge as it was posted.
As of Nov 5th, I lost my Grammarly account along with my income (long story about a deer and my car) so while I tried to edit this, but my dyslexia and idiocy will make this a hard read so, sorry in advance.
Red and Blue
Red and blue lights flashed across the park breaking the eerie solitude stamping this place as a crime scene. Analisa sat alone on the park bench, the scowl on her face as dark as the gathering thunderclouds. The storm would wipe away the evidence but not the pain. She knows they will find the gun soon and with it have enough evidence to arrest her. She told the police how things just got out of hand and she wasn’t sure what happened, but she knew what she did and knew it was permanent. After all, death was permanent.
Four Hours ago,
Four hours ago, Analisa came to this place to get away from the hell that was her life. Her parents were fighting every day and no longer minded doing it in front of the kids. Her older sister was in the living room blasting her game to drown out the noise while her younger brother ran from room to room screaming. Analisa sat trying to read as her temper grew and her mood darkened. Her brother broke her phone and her father told her she would have to replace it herself. Her phone was her world, her way out of this cacophony of screams and video violence. In all her sixteen years of life, she couldn’t remember feeling so low. She became like that proverbial island she read in a book once, alone and feeling unloved. She had only one way out and today was the day. On her way out the door, she took her father’s gun.
The park was little more than a walking path cut out and around a bog. A place the city could spend money and claim they did something for the people. It didn’t matter that the property was owned by a city councilman. The park was close to home and a million miles away from her hell. Analisa didn’t know if she would have the nerve to shoot. A gun wouldn’t be her choice, but you can’t always get what you want. She sat down and thought about the gun. A stranger ran past in more of a run than the usual walk people did on the path. She watched him pass and thought, “nice ass.” The thought made her smile, but soon she darkened again. She looked down and wondered what was coming next.
The bench shifted as someone sat down next to her. She looked over and saw the stranger. When he ran past the first time, he looked like he was in his twenties, but now he looks much older. Analisa realized she was in a park alone and now this stranger was sitting next to her.
The man said, “nice day.”
“Not really,” Analisa said while looking around hoping someone will come along.
The man looked to the rain clouds as they moved in and said, “rain is a good thing, rain is life.”
Analisa thought to herself, “nerd.”
The man looked at her. His stare was as intrusive as a hand. The wind shifted and the sweaty smell struck her like a fist. She tried to hide her displeasure, but she was past caring about niceties. She came here to end things, and this man was in the way. The man got to his feet.
He turned and said, “well, I hope things get better for you. It’s too nice a day to sit and mope.”
Before Analisa could tell him to go and piss up a rope, he was back on his run. She felt something wet on her face, but it wasn’t raining. She checked her face and saw tears. She thought about her life and knew it wasn’t all bad. Her brother was too young to understand, and she was the one to let him play with her phone. Her older sister lived longer with their parents fighting and was battling her own demons. She hated her family and she loved them in equal measure. She knows that if or when her parents finally divorced her life will only get better. The gun felt like a monstrous weight in her pocket and on her soul.
Analisa got up and went to the edge of the small pond in the bog. Her father would tear the house apart looking for the gun, but something told her they would be better off with no gun in their volatile house. She heard the runner coming back around. His footfalls sped up as did the events of her life. The sounds grew louder than silent. Something struck her from behind and everything went dark. She felt the wet grass and weight as someone tugging at her. The weight had a familiar sweaty smell.
“You know you want this, you know it,” he whispered into her ear as he held her down.
Analisa struggled to try to get free. The man was on top of her trying to open her shirt, but every time he moved his hands she swung. The man struck her across the face sending black stars into her vision. She knew if she went out it would be all over. Down in the bog, she saw her brother’s face when he broke her phone. His sorrow in knowing what he did to her. She saw her parents in one of those moments where they weren’t fighting. Her body felt cold. She knew he was winning. He leaned in and licked her face. His foul breath would be with her long after the many therapy sessions would try to help her cope. She turned her head and saw her black hoodie, Metallica shirt and red bra lying next to her. He hadn’t taken her jeans yet, but they were next. A bolt of sunlight broke through the clouds like a spotlight shining on something glinting from her hoodie. The gun.
On the Fly
Analisa stopped fighting and let her arms go slack. The man smiled like a malicious cat that had finally cornered the mouse it had stalked for days. He put his hand on her chest between her breasts to hold her down as he worked off his pants. His weight was horrible as was his touch. He pulled away to pull his shorts down. Analisa balled both fists striking him in both kidneys. The man lost balance, as she pulled away from him. She grabbed her clothes and held them in front of her. She felt that familiar weight in her hand.
“Leave me alone,” she said standing there trying to cover herself.
The man smiled and said, “try and run and I’ll make this hurt.”
Analisa dropped her ripped shirt and hoodie. The man stared at her bare chest not seeing the gun until she had it up and firing. The first chamber was empty, but the next five of the 380 caliber revolver chambers were loaded with hollow points and struck the man like a fist. The man stopped. He put his hands to his chest and felt the broken bones. She noticed it wasn’t like the movies or games. There was very little blood coming out of the front. The man went to his knees and fell forward where she saw the exit wounds and threw up. Analisa’s shirt was a ruin as well as the bra. She slipped on the hoodie and left the rest including the gun by the body. She didn’t even remember dropping the gun. Analisa sat alone on the park bench, the scowl on her face as dark as the gathering thunderclouds. She wondered if she just lost her favorite slice of hell. She didn’t know then she had just stopped a serial rapist and her life was going to get better from then on.