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alexidewrites · 6 years

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The Reel Life

The following short story is what I entered in the NYC Midnight Short 2019 Short Story Challenge. It’s nowhere near it’s final draft, and was a challenge to write. I’m still content with it. Writing a thriller was fun!

Genre: Thriller Subject: A live broadcast Character: A drug addict

Fssshhhhh. Click.

“Brandon, is this thing on?” a voice asks.

Fsshhh. Plop. Crash!

“Don't drop it… the lens is just covered,” a second voice, presumably Brandon, replies. “We're going live in three, two, one…”

After a brief moment, the video appears. In front of the camera stands a young man, no older than twenty-five. His sandy-brown hair ruffles with the breeze. His green eyes provide warmth and enthusiasm. He sports jeans and well-worn brown jacket. Behind him is a standard brick wall, with streaks of paint around waist level. The light hits the left side of his body, casting a long shadow across the sidewalk and wall behind him. He waves his left hand and begins to speak. “Welcome to another live stream of The Reel Life. I'm your host, Jordan. Behind the camera, as always, is Brandon.”

For a brief moment, the video turns around to the person holding the camera. Brandon looks slightly older than Jordan, but not by much. Brandon smiles at the camera and gives a brief, “Hello.” The image then turns back towards Jordan. A Bang! can be heard off-screen.

Jordan smiles and shifts slightly to his right side. “You asked for it, and we delivered. Today, we will explore and interview residents of Central East City in order to better understand how this area has been affected by gang violence and drug abuse. Don’t worry. I’m six months clean.” Jordan turns to walk down the street, sauntering down what now appears to be a sidewalk. The video jolts slightly, before steadying out, presumably from Brandon adjusting something.

Screech! Bang! Weeoo weeoo! The sounds are faint, coming from blocks away. Jordan pauses, rolls his shoulders, then turns to face the camera, walking backward. “This place sure is full of interesting sounds.” He adjusts the back of his pants, fixes his jacket, then turns around to continue walking forward. “Brandon, why don’t you wander up that way and get a good look of the accident while I scout for someone to interview?”

The camera turns towards the direction of a street corner, which grows closer.

Screech! Brandon turns the camera back towards him. “This place is full of them. To our viewers, don’t worry.” He smiles and winks at the camera, his face slightly hidden by shadows from the poor natural lighting. “We’re prepared for the worst.”

Takka takka! In the distance, down a side street, a car lays crippled against the side of a brick building. Multiple police cars surround the crashed vehicle. Multiple figures stand around a figure laying on the ground.

Refocusing the camera in the opposite direction of the main street, Jordan stands a great distance away with his back towards the camera speaking to someone. They exchange nods and a handshake. Jordan shifts his stance slightly, placing his hands in his pockets. He turns around to face Brandon and the camera.

“Hey, Jordan,” Brandon yells. “Did you find someone?” The camera moves back forth, slightly jarring to a viewer.

After a moment, Jordan is now closer, in full view of the video. Next to him stands a woman, her face grim. Her straight, greasy hair lifts slightly, indicating a small breeze. She stands still in her jeans and oversides jacket. Jordan looks to her, then back to the camera. Both their shadows grow with the setting sun.

“Everyone,” Jordan says, “This is Mel. She’s a local around these parts. Mel, say hi.”

Mel waves.

“Mel, how long did you say you’ve lived here for?”

Mel looks towards the ground, then to Jordan meeting his gaze, then to the camera. “I’ve lived here for about seven years now.”

“Seven years,” Jordan says. “What would you say about this place have lived here for that long?”

“It’s…” Mel looks around her. “It’s homely.” She looks back towards Jordan, who to the superfan, appears slightly disturbed.

The camera moves around to focus on the buildings that surround them. An apartment complex looms approximately six stories tall on the left. Most of the windows are boarded up. Of the windows that aren’t boarded, a few have dim lights on, while others show no evidence of life. Farther down the street, one house is completely boarded up, while others have broken windows. To the right is a small grassy area surrounded by tall solid brick buildings. Gated stores line the front of the solid brick buildings. A few cars are parked along the street, one right in front of the run-down apartment complex with its trunk slightly ajar.

“Have you ever seen any shady dealings occur here?”

“Not really,” Mel says, her hands now in her pockets. She glares slightly at him. “You looking for something? Because if I was to see shady dealings, I’d run if I was you.”

“Good to know. Thank you, Mel. We’ll keep that in mind.” Jordan shifts his weight to the other foot and takes his hands out of his pockets. He clasps them together.

Thunk!

The camera focuses on the car, then back to Jordan and Mel. “Thank you for your time, Miss Mel.” Jordan walks briskly back towards the camera. “I realize that this has been a short show, but you did want to see us in a not so good part of town. Next time, on The Reel Life, we’ll take you to the aquarium downtown to interview the caretakers and scientists that bring the sea to us.” He moves his hand across his throat as if to say, “Cut the video.” Only a few inches away, he whispers, “We need to run,” before cruising out of view.

Mel stands looking into the camera from the distance, then stalks towards the apartment complex. A hand covers the camera lens, causing the screen to darken.

A pitter-patter of feet and coats ruffling can be heard in the darkness. Someone pants, clearly out of breath. Clink! Creek! Thud! Thud! Krchng. Vroom. An engine springs to life.

The hand is removed from the camera lens. Jordan and Brandon are now in their car. The camera now sits on the dash of the car, pointing towards the two of them.

“There’s a body in the car, and I shortchanged her,” Jordan says, as buildings and trees whiz past in the window.

“You what?” Brandon looks at Jordan, his eyes wide in disbelief. “The only reason we said we would start up this series again is that you had gotten out of rehab and were clean.” He looks back to the front of the car. “We’re twelve episodes into our second season, and you haven’t been clean this entire time?”

“I have been..”

“No. You haven’t.”

Both are silent for a moment. Jordan looks into the rearview mirror, then back to the front. “Shit. She’s behind us.”

Thud! The camera lurches and tumbles onto Jordan’s lap. He quickly places it back on the dash, the video adjusts back to focus on the two. Brandon now has a gun in his hand.

Jordan looks over for a brief moment, then back to the front. “You brought a gun?”

“Yeah. I have a conceal-carry permit.”

“Shit.” Jordan looks from the side mirror to the rearview mirror, then back to the front.

“Pull the car over.”

“I’m not…”

“Pull the damn car over!” Brandon now points the gun at Jordan.

“Hey man,” Jordan says. “Just don’t do what I think you’re going to do.” Through the window, the vehicle can be seen slowing to a stop near more dilapidated buildings.

Brandon quickly looks to his right before disappearing in that direction.

Creek!

Takka Takka!

Takka!

Jordan recoils to the sounds, his eyes wide and horrified.

Mel sits where Brandon sat, her left shoulder slightly red with her own blood. Thud! “He’s a good shot.” She looks at Jordan. “You owe me. Now, drive.” Jordan, horrified, shifts the car into gear and starts driving again.

Mel looks in the camera. “You know your friend there left this on right?” She grabs the camera, facing it around towards the dash. After a moment, all sounds stop and the screen turns black.

#txt #short story #short stories #my short stories #alexidewrites #thriller

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alexidewrites · 6 years

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Mari

A/N: Do NOT read this story if you have any triggers that can be found in the tags. Otherwise, proceed to under the cut to start reading this short story. You have been warned.

Empty boxes lined the dining and living rooms waiting to be recycled, while Alex finished unpacking the office and Elaine the bedroom. The two had moved into their new townhouse two weeks before, but due to work and wedding planning, only the essential boxes had been unpacked, namely bathroom and bedroom supplies, kitchenware, and pet supplies. Their cat, Snickers, lay in one of the boxes, somewhere.

While Elaine remembered what was in most of the boxes she had brought with her during the move, Alex couldn’t remember which box he had packed which thing in. He thoroughly regretted not labeling them now as he moved about the office looking for the box that housed his personal collections.

“Ah,” Alex said, shuffling boxes around for a moment before stopping and standing straight up. “I guess it got moved to the bedroom. I should’ve known that.” Alex moved out of the office into the hall, spotting Snickers jumping between boxes.

He walked into the bedroom, chuckling to himself.

“Snickers jumping around again?” Elaine looked up from digging through the box that Alex had just been looking for.

He nodded, moving to help her with his mementos.

Elaine handed him a few of his trophies from high school and college. “He’s been doing that all day. And you’re sure you can carry them all?”

“Yes, I can carry them all.” He took an armful back into the office with him.

“Hey, Alex?” Elaine called, moments later, as he set them down on the desk. “Do you know what’s inside this?”

“What’s inside what?” Alex walked back into the bedroom, seeing a wooden box roughly the size of a watermelon with a lock on it in Elaine’s hands. He stopped right in front of where she sat on the ground. “Where’d you find that?”

“It was in the bottom of this box.” She set it down in front of her.

Alex pulled his keys out of his pocket. As he sat down, he flipped to the small key that would open the box. “It’s a bunch of memories from high school and college. My parents must have snuck this in while I was packing it. I don’t remember what all I put in here.”

The lock looked just as old as he remembered, one of the rusted ones he had snagged from his dad’s lock box during the summer of his freshman year of high school. It looked as though his parents had attempted to polish it, to no avail, though, due to the slight glimmer from the metal. He smiled as he opened the box, excited to see what was inside. A miniature figure of Super Saiyan Goku sat on top with a lanyard holding his high school ID on the end. He pulled them out and passed them to Elaine.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you’ve been into Dragon Ball for quite some time.” Elaine laughed, setting the figure down next to her. She looked at the photo on the ID and chuckled something along the lines of how cute he was as a fourteen-year-old.

Alex paid no attention to her. He pulled out more items: a Hatsune Miku photo, a manga that no one had ever heard of, the very first comic of Captain Marvel he had hunted down during his junior year of high school and saved up enough money to buy among other comics he’d thought he’d lost, a couple of medals from his days playing baseball, a couple letters he had kept from friends who had moved away, and an envelope with only “Al-kun” written on the front. His smile waned as he held the envelope in his hands.

Alex stood up, turning towards the door. “Can you put everything back when you’re finished looking through it, Elie?”

Elaine looked up quickly from her smiling at all of the stuff he had pulled out of the box. “Sure.” She noticed the envelope in his hand and instantly frowned. “Is everything okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I just remembered why I haven’t bothered looking for that box in six years.”

“It’s because of her, isn’t it?” She carefully placed the figure in her hands back inside the box. “Do you want to put that back in there, too?” She motioned to the envelope.

“No. I think I’m finally ready,” he said, giving her a wry smile.

Elaine nodded in response, a knowing smile on her face.

Alex shut the bedroom door behind him, making his way down the hall towards the living room. He looked at the envelope as he sat down on the couch. “Al-kun,” Alex read the front of the envelope again. The name in a big cursive calligraphy that the girl, no… woman, who had written it developed. She’d been the only one to use it, too, and had never let anyone else attempt it. Just like she was the only one whom Alex had ever let her call him Al. He hadn’t particularly liked the name at first but had grown accustomed to it over the years after having met her their sophomore year of high school. “Art class, if I recall correctly.”

This girl had sat at a table next to a giant window of the art room, always staring at the outside world. Alex had sat right next to her. A book and a sketchpad always sat in front of her on the desk, so her drawing and calligraphy had caught his eye initially. It was the first time he’d seen her distinctive style, big, curly and elegant. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to talk to her in those first few weeks, only admire her work from afar.

Alex flipped the envelope open and slowly pulled the flap out. The edges of a picture and a piece of paper lay neatly inside, where he had left them. Having never read the letter due to not having the strength at the time, Alex had placed it with his most beloved picture of the two the night after their senior prom. They had laughed and danced the night away, among good friends, and family that night.

As he pulled the picture out, he smiled at it as his eyes began to water. They sat on top of the bar at his uncle’s restaurant where after-prom had been held. The girl’s amber eyes caught his attention first. Thin black eyeliner lined her upper eyelid, flowing out to a thin, but graceful wing tip. Her eye shadow faded from a deep purple along the outer edges of her eyelids to a soft lilac in the inner eyelid. They smiled back at him along with her gorgeous wide smile she was well known for. Her reddish brown hair fell in tightly kept curls barely falling past her left shoulder, still in the loose pony tail she had tied it up with. She wore a pink top with white flowers falling down the side and a pair of jeans, along with a corsage of white and pink flowers on her left wrist. He had delicately taken the corsage off later when they had chosen to taken the next step of their already two and a half year relationship, intimacy.

“Mari,” Alex muttered, a tear glimmered in the corner of his eye. He set the picture down for a moment, closing his eyes. He could see her laughing that night, having found himself laughing right along with her at another stupid joke of his, one that his uncle had told him when he had helped set up the bar for after-prom party earlier in the day. A grasshopper walks into a bar and the bartender says, “Hey, we have a drink named after you.” The grasshopper says, “You have a drink named Derek?” That had been right before a friend of his had taken the photo. The scene shifted. He could feel her hair between his fingers and his in hers. They lay intertwined on his bed, laughing about how much fun the entire night had been, including the awkwardness between them for a brief moment.

As Alex look back at the photo, he found himself smiling. His hair in the photo was slicked back, as it had been an inch longer then compared to now. He also sported a school t-shirt, along with khaki shorts. He held her right hand in his, smiling back at the camera, his mouth partly open from laughing so much. That had definitely been a night to remember, and one he would never forget.

He set the picture down on the coffee table in front of him. The letter sat waiting for him to read, but he wasn’t ready yet. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, letting memories of their time together come flooding back: the two of them moving each other’s items into their dorm rooms at college, only three rooms apart from each other; dancing to the music of the cicadas as the sun set in the park; hanging out and playing video games or watching anime at her house; splashing each other with salt water at the beach with friends the summer after high school graduation.

Alex even remembered what their first fight had been about, which universe was better, DC or Marvel. Mari had been so adamant about Marvel being better than DC, but Alex held his ground. They’d have fought over this multiple more times, if they hadn’t had other stupid and silly arguments that they’d argue about periodically, such as which Vocaloid was the most emo, and which anime adaption of the manga was better. They’d always make up and kiss, possibly more later on, laughing about how silly their fights were, but agreeing that they could manage to come to terms by agreeing to disagree.

What popped into his mind last, though, was the day he first asked her out to the homecoming dance their sophomore year of high school, only a month after he had first noticed her in their art class. Mari had been quietly reading a book at the lunch table. Alex had noticed that she wasn’t a social light, but could tell that she was friendly to those who talked to her from paying attention in the classes they shared. He had been wanting to talk to her for quite some time, but hadn’t had the nerve to ask her yet, until that particular day, one friend dared him to ask her, leaving him with no choice but to walk over to her. She had looked up from her book, as he asked her out. “Only if you can make me laugh,” she’d said with a smile on her face. So he told her the one joke he could think of.

If anyone asked him now what joke he had used to get her to laugh, he always said he didn’t remember, which he really didn’t. He only remembered that it had something to do with whatever food she had been eating for lunch that day. He could still hear her giggling slightly all these years later, which caused him to reach for the letter.

Taking another breath, he began to read the letter as he opened it up. Even though he hadn’t wanted to cry, he found himself crying from the very beginning. The amount of tears grew the farther he read. After reaching the last line, he lay down on the couch, the piece of paper on top of him.

Elaine found him that way when she finally left the bedroom and made her way out to the living room. Alex sat up for her to sit down on the couch, then laid his head on her lap. Having noticed his tears, she asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be okay.” He smiled up at her. “You’re here with me.”

She smiled back at him, running a hand through his hair. “We can stop unpacking for a bit if you’d like.”

Alex closed his eyes. “That sounds nice.”

After a moment, Elaine spotted the letter and asked, “Can I read it?”

Alex looked up at her, his eyes still watering. “You’ll cry.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Trust me. You knew her, too.” He held the letter up for her to grab. “Just don’t stop with the hair, alright?”

Elaine nodded in response, giving him her understanding that it would be soothing for both of them. Taking the paper into her hands, she began to read, letting the tears fall if they were destined to fall.

To My Love, My Dear Alexander,

You will never understand why I did what I did, but I will try to explain it to you anyway. I grew up in a house where I could have anything I wanted, to an extent. I had loving parents, grandparents, extended family, etc. I was in so many extracurricular activities until I found my passion, calligraphy, and art. Eventually, everything in my life started to look dim for no apparent reason. I couldn’t understand why I felt the way I did in middle school, always feeling sad, but hiding it with a smile. This feeling grew to even greater lengths in high school, that is, until I met you, or so I thought.

You know, the first time I saw you, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. Your dark hair and eyes caught me by surprise, even if you looked dorky in your gym clothes freshman year. (Yes, we did have gym class together, just with different PE teachers.) .) I ended up having the biggest crush on you, but you had no idea who I was, and I was okay with that. Well, maybe I was just content with that for a while because when I noticed something had changed about you, I grew excited. You started to notice me.

When you approached me sophomore year and asked me to go to the homecoming dance with you, I had to play it cool, but I was actually extremely nervous. That’s why you got the “only if you can make me laugh” response. You told a really stupid, but funny and cute joke, too. “Why did the tomato turn red?” “I don’t know. Why?” “Because it saw the salad dressing.” “I assume that’s a yes then?” I had no choice but to agree, not that I didn’t want to go to the dance with you. I’m really glad I went with you. That turned into four amazing years with you that I will never forget, especially the night of senior prom. I don’t need to explain that. I’m sure you remember.

You changed my life. You erased most of whatever it was that caused me to be depressed. You gave me a reason to live, even if I ended up with only nineteen years of life. That’s why I couldn’t tell you that some part of that feeling, the depression, was still there, still fighting over control of my mind even though I thought it had disappeared. Which is why I’m writing this letter to you now. I’m pleading with myself to stop, to not go through with this. I want to live the rest of my life with you like we’ve discussed. I want you to propose to me. I want to say yes. I want to live in a happy home. I want to have three beautiful children with you who will grow up to be wonderful human beings just like their parents. I want to pursue that double degree in psychology and psychiatry so I can help people like me, people who don’t understand why they feel the way they do, who don’t feel like they should feel this way because they have great and amazing lives. I don’t want to disappear. I don’t want to... but I don’t think I can stop this feeling.....

I need help. I know I need help. But by the time you, or anyone, find this, by the time you find me, it will be too late. I’m too far gone. I’m not even sure how to come back. I can’t stop myself, but I want you to know that I love you. I love you with every fiber of my being. Please find it in yourself to live a happy life, make some amazing girl your wife, and please know, you are perfect in every sense of the word.

I love you, my Al-kun. I will always love you.

With All My Love,

Mari

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