Meet Nate Sawyer.
The perfect kid. That is no exaggeration. He really is. So perfect that it made you queasy with envy. The whole package; quite a remarkable specimen. Tall, dark haired, gorgeous, and a body like one of those on the front of a Men’s Health magazine designed to make you self-conscious of your meagre frame. His perfection manifested itself in every wake of life, believe it or not. He was the school jock. He placed in the top three academic performers in the grade. Worst of all? He was insufferably charming and polite. It was impossible to hate the kid, no matter how desperately you wish you did.
Perhaps if you knew more, knew what I did…you may just find that hatred.
Continue reading “A Sadist”
My name is Guy Garrison.
I am a nobody. Well, nobody I would like to be. Plain, plain as the cruel God above would have me be. Without any special talent. Absent of any remarkable ability. I am not the beating heart of any party. I bring not the light of the rising sun. I am simply here. Insufferably, obnoxiously, here.
I wake up. I accept the sin of life. I pretend for my family. I attend school. I socialise. The last bell rings. I return home. I rest. I wake up. A cycle. A hand on a clock. The notion of routine simply maddening.
There is only one aspect of my life that keeps me sane – if that is appropriate a word to use. It is the fact that I am insane. Surely that is paradoxical! Yet can one be aware of one’s own insanity? Can I know that I am probably – most definitely – mad? Or am I of some modicum of sane thought to examine the possibility that I may be…too sane? Hmm. Super sane.
My head is a cloud. The outside world is vast and senseless. My colleagues and classmates and teachers and friends are nought but an obligation to me. I want something more for myself, but I am not worthy of more. I am flesh. I am moving parts stripped of purpose. I am without identity.
I am only ever whole in the safe, quiet darkness of the night; through one single secret. My sweet, sweet secret, hidden in a pit.
In a man-made hole in my wall, buried beyond my belongings, is a mask.
Continue reading “A Mask”
I’ve been asked by a few to divulge this one particular story. Now I’m rather detached from time unfortunately so I can’t remember whether this story came about in grade ten or eleven. My only reference point is that it was a while after my favourite burger in the entire universe, The Double Crunch, got discontinued. I’ve never quite forgiven KFC in South Africa for cancelling it, and in the week that I found out they would be I ate seven in a matter of days.
This short story came from a school paper incidentally. It was exams and I was sitting in English paper three, the creative writing paper. I loved that one. It was my channel to be bizarre, creative and take risks. It wasn’t about the marks for me. It was about writing. And fortunately my writing led to good marks. In one particular paper the third writing part gave a variety of options, and one of them was to write three diary entries. I’m not quite sure what made me write about KFC, but I would assume that I was hungry and dealing with the loss of the Double Crunch.
Continue reading “Short Story: Three Days Of Double Crunch”