ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel
  • »
  • Books, Literature, and Writing»
  • Commercial & Creative Writing


Updated on September 4, 2010


It had been so long since i had heard the truth. Seen it in all of its majesty.

So i created some truth myself. I guess you can say i am evil. It started on a sweet autumn evening. The kind that smells like bonfires and tastes like cider. It was then that i decided to choose my victem.

The reveal didnt come as a suprise to him, he had seen me looking at him all summer under the protective light of the street lamp above the bench i often found myself on when the dim light of day slipped into the eboness dark of night.

He was always there. Alone and seemingly guarded. It wasnt often the he looked up from his sketeches, but when he did, he was looking at me.

I smiled inside with what i had in store for him. It was a gleeming hate that had manifested inside of me. All i could think about for months and months now was how i can possibly sweep away the pretense for just a moment and get a glimps of true emotion.

No matter how it had to be done.

See, when your lied to and lied to over and over again, a sort of storm starts to rage inside of you. You dont care whats right anymore. You dont care who gets hurt in the process. All you want to hear is honestly.

And do you know what the most honest thing is?


Pain is the most honest thing in the entire world. Someone can tell you they love you. Someone can tell you they were here, when they were really there. But how do you know? How do you know that they are telling you the truth if they have lied to you before?

But when someone is in pain, and you can see it swell and twist inside of them.

Now, thats something that cant be mistaken.

The eyes of a man in pain are recognizable even if youve never seen it before.

So he sat there. Sketching. Listening to god knows what on his little ear buds.

I arose from the bench, and clicked across the street to where he was sitting on the bench opposit of mine.

"Hey"...."what are you drawing" said i, laughing inside knowing all to well that the initial conversation, however tedious, was necessary for my plot flower to bloom into fruition.

He looked up at me, and into my eyes. It seemed as if he was stareing right down into me.

I felt like a tape on rewind. All of my plans, the memories i had of making them. Sitting there on the bench for the past few weeks, sipping hot tea, stareing him down, collecting data... all rushing at me in reverse.

After what seeemed like hours, which in reality only lasted about 2 minutes, he dropped his gaze, and tilted his pad.

I looked down, and saw it. He had drawn everything.

I ripped the pad from his hand and flipped to the begining.

1- me sitting on the bench

2- me stareing at him from across the street.

3- me walking over to him

4- me talking to him

5- us going for coffee

6- us going back to my place

and so on and so forth.

Everything i planned was sketched out in front of me in shades of grey and black.

My eyes, glazed over with a disbelief that i cannot describe.

i looked at his face, waiting for an answer.

He stared down at the curb, with a smile streatching across his pale face.

"You dont remember do you" he smiled....almost mockingly.

"Remember what" i snipped. "These things....these could you know about...."

I couldnt even find the words. "Lets just get this over with" he said. He want to stand, and i grabed his jacket, yanking him back down to the bench.

"Get what over with" i whispered. "your speaking as if your expecting me, your talking as if you....know"

"Listen" he said.." I sit here, as i have for every night, and every night before that since i can remember... I sketch out what happened the night before. Then you come along, and sit down on that bench over there. Everynight it starts out the same, but every night ends with something new. But i didnt realize until a few days ago, that you are certain that when you approach me each night, it is the first time you have ever spoken to me."

I was stunned for a minute. i didnt know how to respond. "So what are you telling me here, that im crazy? that were living in some kind of alternate universe? What are we, dead?"

"Not dead" he said softly. "We are the punished. We are the ones who wanted to hurt ourselves or others so badly that the energy created by that hate, punched a hole through our worlds, and ripped us out of them, leaving us here. Here until we each learn our lesson."

"Fine, alright, whatever...what do we have to do to get the fu*k out of here" At this point i was shaking. Any malace i had felt when i sat down on the bench initially had been shaken from my very core...and now i just wanted to go home.

"You have to care enough about me to change your heart. I sit here on this bench every night for a short time before you arrive. My fingers have graced your face more times than i can count, and in that, i have developed a true appreciation for you. My punishment has been given to me because i wanted to end my life. you see, i had fallen in love with you. You would sit on that bench, and i would imagine what you were like, and i was lost and had nothing. I came here every day just to be near you, even though i knew you had no idea. But over the past few nights, i have come to realize that all you wanted was to hurt me. I dont know why, and i dont care. All i know is that for whatever reason, and even though i dont know you, im still in love with you. Still though, even though i no longer want to die, we are connected you and I, and now, its your heart that needs to change....or we will cycle forever in this eternal hell."

"Thats all?" I said. It seemed like a dumb thing to say, but with such a simple answer to break away from this dream labrynth, I had to beg the question..."have you told me this before?"

"Yes, he said, every night since i learned of your intended sins, but every night, after explaining, the clock strikes midnight, and your eyes grow cold...and you stand up and walk into the alley way, and i follow you. When it is leave, and i lay there. The next thing I know, im on the bench and..."

The clock sounded at that moment, twelve chimes rang through the cold air.

"I said what are you drawing" I was growing more impatient, as it seemed he wasnt going to participate willingly.

"its not important" he said. "Lets get this over with"

He stood up, and gestured for me to go ahead of him. My plan was in action. For some strange reason, a tiny unsure wave hit me. I dismissed it. And we walked into the blackness of the alley, me sure that he had no idea what lay waiting for him.


    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    • butterflystar profile image

      butterflystar 5 years ago from A Place of Success :)

      Interesting story :)

    • profile image

      Johnny Love 6 years ago

      good. you need to be

    • the pink umbrella profile image

      the pink umbrella 6 years ago from the darkened forest deep within me.

      i cant even think of anything that i can reply with. but i am smiling.

    • profile image

      Johnny Love 6 years ago

      i do. and i am thankful for your beauty.

    • the pink umbrella profile image

      the pink umbrella 6 years ago from the darkened forest deep within me.

      johnny, hand to heart, im speechless. and i do feel beautiful. i hope you feel the same beauty from within you tha i feel comming out from inside of me.

    • profile image

      Johnny Love 6 years ago

      I say hello as though i know you. taste the coffee as though i am there with you. feel the depth of darkness consume you, feel the light leave your eyes and i know i know nothing. the pain is far too great to ignore yet as i sit here alone in the shadows of yesterday, i know that you must feel so beautiful. Great HUB Steph, beautiful insight to your darkness which i am in awe of. amazing.

    • ashleyyoung profile image

      ashleyyoung 7 years ago from United States

      Beautiful. Your narrative has kept me on the edge of my seat. Definitely deserves a part two. :)

    • the pink umbrella profile image

      the pink umbrella 7 years ago from the darkened forest deep within me.

      sligobay- lol, i think ive got you hooked sligobay

    • sligobay profile image

      sligobay 7 years ago from east of the equator

      O.K. Pink- I'm sold thgat I have stumbled upon a budding flower. I likewise credit my muse as have thousnds of artists before us. However, the muse is only the grease that lubes the axle. You wield the axle and carry the load, not him. Give yourself some credit for 27 years of growth, evolution, effort, and PAIN before your muse crawled into your life. You are the sun that lights andf warms his existence. Don't shun the credit that you so well deserve. Now, the story. It is original and haunting. It is sinister and three dimentional- no fourth dimension stuff. You are evil when you write evil. Your poetry reflects a more loving and caring persona. Search the HUB Pages relating to selling your work and sell something. That will give you the proof you seek that you are as good as everyone here says. Keep writing and I'll keep reading too.

    • carolina muscle profile image

      carolina muscle 7 years ago from Charlotte, North Carolina

      This was an interesting read-- I'm hoping there's a part two.

    • JayDeck profile image

      JayDeck 7 years ago from New Jersey

      Of course, I guess that is the point after all.


    • JayDeck profile image

      JayDeck 7 years ago from New Jersey

      There are some beautiful images here, as with your poetry. You do, however, make me nervous.


    • Micky Dee profile image

      Micky Dee 7 years ago

      Great ride. Thank you!

    • puresilence profile image

      puresilence 7 years ago from New Delhi

      Beautiful lines, you are so right that Pain is most honest thing in the world. How wonderfully you express.. amazes me.

    • prey profile image

      prey 7 years ago from places you should hope we never meet

      Pink you really are a beautiful wrier

      so glad I read this

      check out my profile page, keep forgetting to tell you


    • the pink umbrella profile image

      the pink umbrella 7 years ago from the darkened forest deep within me.

      Mike- wow. youve silenced me. Im so happy that you all like my story. Really, the credit is not mine, but belongs to the man who inspired me. Truely, he is responsible for the dramatic change in my writing. Im no longer afraid to put it out there.

    • Mike Lickteig profile image

      Mike Lickteig 7 years ago from Lawrence KS USA

      I was drawn in by the simplicity of your title and I was not disappointed. I read this twice before even attempting to comment. This was thought-provoking, emotional and sad. The aura of menace you project and the artist's resignation are captured so well, and your tale ends with your readers wondering if the story might never end. Your narrative style is direct and easy to follow. Thanks so much for sharing this. It is really beautiful.


    • the pink umbrella profile image

      the pink umbrella 7 years ago from the darkened forest deep within me.

      Jade- you have no idea how much that means to me.

    • profile image

      Jade 7 years ago

      So dark, so twisted; by far your best story work. Compelling and provoking, sending chills and raising goosebumps. I'm blown away. I gotta read it again, now.

    • the pink umbrella profile image

      the pink umbrella 7 years ago from the darkened forest deep within me.

      Faye- wow, you really think i could have made it into the magazine?! that means so much to me comming from you! I have to admit, im super proud of it. Im telling you, its all thanx to a certain someone. My muse. I hope he likes it. I literally had no idea what to write, and all of a sudden, it just started flowing.

    • Faybe Bay profile image

      Faye Constantino 7 years ago from Florida

      What he said! This is your best, it captivated me and controlled my breathing. I used to buy a magazine subscription every year to Night Cry. I would buy that even at times when I had trouble paying the electric and rent. This would have made it into the magazine, without a doubt, they would have paid you for this. I still remember some of the stories, am haunted by them, and this one will haunt me too.

    • the pink umbrella profile image

      the pink umbrella 7 years ago from the darkened forest deep within me.

      epigramman- please never stop commenting on my work. Your reviews are not only uplifting, and inspiration to write more, they feel honest, and i almost feel like im reading a professional review of someone elses work. Never have i ever dared to dfream that i could let the real me out, and have someone come through with words such as yours. In another time, in another place, i truely believe that if i were ever to have met you, i could fall jsut as in love with you as i have your words. Plese, i beg you. Keep reading.

    • epigramman profile image

      epigramman 7 years ago

      ... a cinematic read from the dark side of your inner sanctum .....and quite possibly some of the best writing from you that I've had the pleasure to read ..... there is an underlying menace to your narrative which makes me (as a reader) uneasy and that is exactly the point - keep us on edge ....and just don't let up!!!!!