new short story

FABLE OF TRUE LIFE

 

Hey yah, let me tell ya a story please, man, I mean, you like stories and fables, let me tell you a fable please, but listen to me.

I don’t know how to start, it’s a long story, you know, full of.. ahm, whatever, it’s about a boy and he was 24 and he had an uncle who was very rich and wealthy and who earned a lot of money by selling and buying houses and buildings.

And the boy, his name was Charlie.

He was again in some crisis of life and needed to do rehab, actually, he got depressed and had a phase of drinking much alcohol and taking some drugs, so his uncle, he knew about all that, invited him for a short journey to Africa, a country in the middle of Africa he was about to travel because of his business and he had an international company already, so there was an African company interested in the trade with him. Business travel, you know.

So the damn smart and clever uncle asked the boy to go there with him just for some different place to hang in and to see different things happening on earth and to maybe hunt away his usual bad thoughts on mind. The boy was glad to go with him, looking forward to discovering something new in his life.

They went there, well, and they had a luxurious, big fat hotel to rest in, and it was all that luxurious that Charlie almost got very mad, you know. His uncle spent the days hanging around with important stinky business men and people who were dressed up as fuck like fucking serious fuckers with lots of money and so the days started quickly to bore Charlie, because he had none to talk with and he was sick of money and wealth.

I guess, after a week he decided to leave the hotel, of course he told his uncle that he would go to town and look around for a while, walking, travelling, but he didn’t say he was about to leave all the town and walk more far than his uncle would have liked. Though he was 24, you know, but the place then was a little dangerous because of quite poor and lost souls out there trying to rob others and survive.

So he packed his bag and he was sure to leave his phone at home so he couldn’t be annoyed or disturbed by anyone. That was REAL, the life then, you understand? Without phone.

He was scared but he loved that feeling of being scared, that caused some really great concentration to his mind and body and so he always felt like being alive while feeling scared.

So he walked and walked and walked because he was sick of the town and noises all around, he wanted to hunt for some silence and an area which was cleaner than all the rest and more natural and the more far he walked, the less trash was lying on the roads and everywhere, which made him feel better and better.

I mean, there was only one road actually and it was not even a street like in the states or what, it was some sort of track only of sands and little stones. He got really far and I guess he had been walking for about six hours, you know, very far, and the sun had already got little darker so he started to think about what he would do next, like turn around and walk back or just keep on walking forwards.

However, before he decided on one of the opportunities, he had to experience that there were some cars arriving, clouds of dust behind him, it was a convoy of old jeeps with a bunch of people on the backs, you know, like those niggaz in Blood Diamond or whatever. And they were all black, you know, and only men on the cars, when they arrived and saw Charlie they stopped, he was like in a desert and no fucking oasis around to hide inside. No hope and no protection, only his own skills. He got nervous, because they stopped and started laughing and made some fun and jokes like Uh, white boy in Africa, lost like a child and he felt like.

And then, somone like a big boss, you know, the leader of the fucking gang, jumped off the car and went to Charlie and said to him: “This is my road you’re walking on, bloody white bastard. So explain why you’re using.” And he was like totally dominating and an insane gorilla trying to defend his territory by silly aggressive actions.

I’m just walking, Charlie said and he was sure he was shaking already, little. The men, well, they laughed again and again, they were not well-educated and rather dumb. Masters of surviving hell, you know.

And then, well, the leader started to demonstrate his powers again when he said:

“You know, why you’re not dead yet, white boy?”, he asked,

“Because I haven’t killed you yet.”

And you know what he wanted to represent with that, show that he’s the one deciding on someone’s life or death, you know, fucking bastard. He was ugly as fuck with a huge long scar over his right eye like Scar, you know, who killed Mufasa in Lion King.

By all means, they made Charlie get on the car by saying, you better get on the car if we say so, you know, like he wouldn’t have another opportunity.

Fuck, this is all a damn long story, I’m getting tired already, but I need to tell, it’s about life.

Hmmm, so they picked him up and while they were driving about 30 kilometres or even more, I mean, Charlie already knew he would have problems getting home again, they were having a conversation and the men asked him lots of stuff about America he came from, you know, where he lived, how old he was, what he was looking for, what he earned money with and all that stupid stuff.

Charlie was nervous, but all the time respectfull and serious and friendly. Like always. Charlie said, he was 24 and collecting life experience to write about in a book, he was studying life and the world and society. He was interested in the African lifestyle like this and he was sure he would write about this to analyze maybe. At least the men were a little impressed but also confused how a life like this was possible, travelling only and writing about this. Money makes the fucking difference and this is sad, but we all know.

Alright, they took him to their lovely place, it was a camp of partly burned hats and houses, tents and badly built up stables. Everything was full of garbage and filthy people, almost only men but also few women who were busy selling their vaginas or tits or asses and taking some heroin or whatever. It was a place of anarchy for sure, but rather a place of hell.

You can see this on movies or television, but for real, I mean, in reality, this is totally different. It blows your fucking mind off and you want to scream. And Charlie wanted to scream and piss off again, but he didn’t know how to do this. They took him to their place to drink beer and play cards where they went on talking and it was okay to have some beer then, maybe three or four bottles, but finally, the leader offered him to take some shit of heroin and that was a limit of course.

Charlie refused and said No, because he had gone through all this before and it was a hard fucking mad time to get sobered again and anyway, this was all too much. When he had said No, the leader seemed to disbelieve, he felt like being treated rudely and so he said again: “You better be taking this, dude, it will make you calm, we’re watching out for ya, so don’t worry, Jesus” and then he just made some sign with his eyes for some of his friends/ slaves, I don’t know, and two of them stood up from the table and grabbed Charlie from behind so he couldn’t move. And the leader took his fucking arm and fell in love with the beautiful clean vene, he bound a rag around and held his arm like Charlie couldn’t move it as well and then he just pushed the needle inside and raped his blood with bad toxication.

Damn, such a long story.

I cannot really explain to ya how he fell down then and how he felt, it was like a circus around with devils inside. Nothing really good about. He was awake all the fucking night, but not moving, it was too hard to move. His eyes looked sad and he was not able to talk.

So the next day after night without a piece of sleep, he got up while people around him were sleeping, fucking or still drinking and taking drugs, listening to fucking mad music and burning things for fire only. He went off but there were people all around and checked him up like a total bastard and before he could walk out the camp, the fucking leader had run after him and made him stop.

“I should better be going now”, Charlie said, “so thank you for all of your kindness and keep on and stuff like that.” He knew, this was dumb, but worth a try.

“Where are you going, man? You don’t understand? Are you a soldier? You are my fucking soldier, now, and I can treat you as my properties, so you will stay with me a little while and write about those things maybe later.”

“I really don’t want to”, Charlie said, “thank you very much.”

And the leader, Scar, you know, he got damn angry and he hit Charlie’s stomach very brutally so he got down on his knees.

Charlie had some tears in his eyes but refused to cry, though he was full of fears.

“You know, I’m the devil?”, Scar said quietly. And Charlie said, yeah, he knew he was the devil. Yeah, he said I knew, you are the devil, and the leader was surprised by that and impressed a little bit. He kneeled down, as well, to talk face to face and he said “Well, you’re some smart kid, not like those Americans I would expect them to be. You know. I’m sorry for punching you.” And at this moment he decided to respect the boy and not to treat him like some pet or what. Don’t know, what was happening there.

But later on, they made him rest for more than two weeks, I think, don’t remember, because of all the crap inside like alcohol and drugs. They were drinking and fucking and causing ill health shit. Charlie needed to puke every fucking morning after drugs and sex. You know, in the night after hit in the stomach, the leader exaggerated in taking drugs and he pulled Charlie aside and showed up to him he was damn horny and hot for a fuck and in some dark corner they had some heavy fuck with almost killing because Scar was cutting Charlie’s breath by putting hand over mouth so Charlie couldn’t make a sound, you know. But he couldn’t breathe then, either, and almost broke down. Whatever.

After seven days or what they had some big surprise for Charlie and Scar came up to the boy and said “I have some big surprise for you. And honour. Just come around.” And they guided him to an isolated place where there was a garage and in front of the garage there was a boy and they had tied him up very hard and gagged his mouth.

“So if you wanna be with us, I’m trusting you, let me know. Take this and make a glory finish.” He held up his gun and expected Charlie to kill the person, he was a young man and he had done some shit, maybe stolen some eggs or what. There were even chickens running around, the only naturally beautiful thing in this hell.

“You will kill him. Or I will kill you, my friend, it’s your choice.”

However, Charlie said No, he was sure about, totally sure, like he wasn’t ever that sure before in his life, even though he didn’t want to die himself, but the other part was impossible, so it was the only way to die.

He started to finish his own life. And you know what this is feeling like when you prepare yourself for dying? You will get calm and sad and scared, but calm. When you know, you can’t do anything to avoid only hoping but even the hope is fading out to dust.

Charlie got hypnotized then kind of, he didn’t look into the men’s eyes, he was dandling like a child, not much, but a little. It was all too much, life and bullshit. So after I guess fife minutes of speachlessness, the big boss turned his arm right and shot one time only without even looking to the garage, you know, that fucking badass didn’t even look to the person he was killing. And he hit that one’s head, like he would be able to kill someone while sleeping, automatically like a killer machine. All the blood sank into sand, thick dark red blood. It was a desastrous smell of iron and death.

And yeah, Scar punched him down again, the boy who had refused to murder. So Charlie was lying on the ground again, not able to move, to defend, wouldn’t make sense anyway. Scar put his gun to the boy’s head and pretended to shoot, first temple, then forehead, then mouth, he was playing with the boy’s fears, but Charlie wasn’t willing to show fears and so he just waited for the final act, seriously.

The fucking killer wasn’t able to kill Charlie, which was totally absurd, he got really angry and upset and he got that angry that he hit him hard with the gun only so Charlie’s nose started to bleed. But then he just pissed off, you know? He didn’t shoot him for refusing. What was happening there? And all the others, they pissed off as well and left him lying there with his bleeding nose, but rather bleeding nose than bleeding brain.

He had stayed alive for sure and this is not the end of story because you could ask what he was doing then, how he got rid off all this and how he could escape and all this and at this part the one who is telling this story is looking deeply into your eyes and asking, I mean, for real, “Has he escaped the hell or is he still inside?” Though he might have left the place, he could be still inside of that hell, you understand? ‘Cause he will not be able to forget. And the one who is telling the story, will not be able to answer this question and therefore sadness all the time, but happiness as well and gratitude and respect for everything. Everything, truly, and everyone.

Thank you for listening, my dear listener.

 

 

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