GeorgeCant94 By GeorgeCant94, 19th Jun 2015 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Travel>North America>United States>New York

An excerpt from a flash fiction series I will be writing. More installments to follow soon.


I sat in bed and listened to him talk only to pass the time.

"I won't put the light on son but just listen to me. There is something at the end of the road. There is always something. No matter how big or small, important or futile, controversial or nondescript, there is something different. Stay out there and don't look back till you're dead" he said.

"Nothing is scarier than a life trapped behind routine. Nothing is sadder, lonelier than looking to the other side, bound by impressions and fears entangled into one's identity." My father's eyes shook a little behind his cotton white contacts and he released a tear.

"Get on the train and don't tun around, don't stop until you've done it all then go do it again". My room was almost completely dark but for the shallow crescent of light reflected from his eyes off the streetlights around; my father's arms trembled as they struggled to hold the weight of his body, his knees were coiled and scratched from the ground like sandpaper filing down an old, sad rolling pin. He was a drunken coward and a nightmare to live with; his words compelled me nonetheless.

"And when someone tells you what to do, when someone puts an expectation on you that you don't like, run, because there is always something different out there" my father said, as if he had always secretly been hiding a philosophical diplomat behind his corrupt, self-centered exterior.

His ramblings were my only distraction. I saw everything he thought I couldn't see. Everything I knew I shouldn't be able to see. His battered knees. His parched lips. The blood seeping from his neck. As soon as he stumbled in, masquerading as a loving father checking in on his son, I could see what he had done. When he sank to the ground on his hands and knees, I knew time was running out and he would die soon. On my bedroom floor. People might even think it was me who did it.

"Your father needs to rest now" he said.

I held his hand so he could lift himself up to kiss me, but he was too weak and surrendered to the ground. There was no light anymore, leaving me in complete darkness.

I got out of bed to turn the light on. I saw him laying there and the air felt strangely humid. Picking up my phone, I dialed a number and the receiver answered straight away.

"I'll take one ticket west please" I said.

Suddenly a chair creaked right outside my bedroom door and my mother sobbed loudly.


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Meet the author

author avatar GeorgeCant94
Hailing from the UK but studying in America, I am a soccer player with a passion for travel, adventure, and the diversity and delicate balance that makes people so unique and richly interesting.

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author avatar brendamarie
23rd Jun 2015 (#)

I love flash fiction

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