Quin
By Sylvester A. Hansen
Chapter 1.
Nathaniel's foot had been hurting for days. It was big, red and swollen, and felt like it could bust every minute now. Nathaniel had gone to his mother with the problem. She had been sitting in front of the computer as usual and hadn't noticed it when Nathaniel cleared his throat for her attention. He had to go pull her dirty old shirt to get even the slightest reaction. She turned around in her chair. Her dull cow eyes looked at him with the same puzzled look they always did, as if though he was someone she didn't know or hadn't realised existed. "Mum, I can't go to school today"
Nathaniel said. Nathaniel thought of the irony of this statement, he hadn't been going to school for days, he could hardly stand on his ill foot, much less walk all the way to school. He had been sitting at the bottom of the stair from their 4th floor apartment, waiting for the school day to end.
"Why do you have to stay home?" his mom croaked without showing any sign of caring. Nathaniel looked at his foot and his mom followed his eyes. "Are you sure you can't go, you know, Mommy really likes to be left alone and Mommy really can't be alone with you in the next room. It would really help Mommy if you went" she looked at him with a vague smile. At that very second a lurching pain shut though Nathaniel's foot and he moaned in pain. It felt like someone was kicking at it from inside, trying to get out. "No, mom I really can't go, can I please stay home?" he said though grittered teeth. He looked at her with the biggest puppy dog eyes he could muster. It seemed to have no effect on her what so ever, but at last she sighed and said "if you really think you have to, but keep out of Mommy's way, okay.".
And so he did. Nathaniel spent all day inside his room, as always, watching TV. He knew that there would be a call from the school, soon, asking why he hadn't been there for 4 days running, but he didn't worry much, his mom would just discard it, she never confronted him with anything.
His foot gave another lurch of pain worse than the first and he had to hold his breath, not to scream. Nathaniel had considered going to the hospital, but he didn't know how he would get there and he was sure his mom wouldn't take him. His father might have though. Sometimes Nathaniel still thought of his father.
Nathaniel had been very young when his father left. He only had tree clear memories of him. One was his smile. Nathaniel's father always smiled. When he was angry, and would walk around the apartment yelling, kicking things over and hitting his mom, he would smile.
Second and third memory, Nathaniel didn't know about, maybe they were the same and maybe they were to very separate memories.
Second was Nathaniel's farther sitting with his back against the wall of his mother bedroom with a gun in his left hand. Third was red fluid all over the wall and the floor, and his father sitting with his head between his legs, and red fluid running down the floor to the tip of Nathaniel's feet. After that Nathaniel never saw his farther again. When he asked his mother where he had gone, she simply replied that he had left and that Nathaniel wasn't aloud mention him again. So he didn't.
Nathaniel turned the sound on his TV up. He didn't like thinking about his father, he had the feeling he wasn't supposed to. He knew that was rubbish, his mother, off cause, couldn't read his mind, but he always felt bad when he did think about him.
His foot gave another lurching pain. This one hurt like someone was trying to split his foot open with a screwdriver. They were becoming more frequent now and every one hurt more than the other. Nathaniel told him self that it would get better if he just got some sleep. In his experience thing often did. His stomach had once hurt for weeks and then finally, one day, as he was walking toward school, his stomach had given a terrible stabbing pain and he had passed out on the sidewalk. Three days later he had woken in a strangely lit room, with white walls and a TV hanging in a strange possession in the corner. The Nurse told him that he had slept for nearly 4 days; she further told him that they had to open his stomach, to get out the thing that was hurting him.
The nurse had said that Nathaniel was lucky. If he hadn't gotten to the Hospital in time they wouldn't have been able to save him. The nurse was smiling as she told him this. Nathaniel noticed that she smiled in the very same way his father used to. This thought scared Nathaniel and he turned over in his bed. He didn't feel like thinking any more, but thought were never in his control. He fell asleep moments later.
Nathaniel dreamt of screaming, pushing, blood, feet being cut in two and long hands emerging from within a wound the size of fists. He woke with a start. His bed was wet and clammy, and Nathaniel was immediately sure he had urinated in it again. But his crouch was completely dry. He opened his eyes, and looked straight in to another pair of eyes. He closed them again. "I am still asleep" he began whispering to him self, "I am still asleep". He shut his eyes even tighter. He had never seen such eyes, they were sad, not crying or aching, but just had a look of pure sadness. Nathaniel kept his eyes closed for a while trying to convince himself that those eyes had been but a dream. When he finally mustered up the courage to open his eyes again they where still there. Those eyes of pure sadness.
By Sylvester A. Hansen
Chapter 1.
Nathaniel's foot had been hurting for days. It was big, red and swollen, and felt like it could bust every minute now. Nathaniel had gone to his mother with the problem. She had been sitting in front of the computer as usual and hadn't noticed it when Nathaniel cleared his throat for her attention. He had to go pull her dirty old shirt to get even the slightest reaction. She turned around in her chair. Her dull cow eyes looked at him with the same puzzled look they always did, as if though he was someone she didn't know or hadn't realised existed. "Mum, I can't go to school today"
Nathaniel said. Nathaniel thought of the irony of this statement, he hadn't been going to school for days, he could hardly stand on his ill foot, much less walk all the way to school. He had been sitting at the bottom of the stair from their 4th floor apartment, waiting for the school day to end.
"Why do you have to stay home?" his mom croaked without showing any sign of caring. Nathaniel looked at his foot and his mom followed his eyes. "Are you sure you can't go, you know, Mommy really likes to be left alone and Mommy really can't be alone with you in the next room. It would really help Mommy if you went" she looked at him with a vague smile. At that very second a lurching pain shut though Nathaniel's foot and he moaned in pain. It felt like someone was kicking at it from inside, trying to get out. "No, mom I really can't go, can I please stay home?" he said though grittered teeth. He looked at her with the biggest puppy dog eyes he could muster. It seemed to have no effect on her what so ever, but at last she sighed and said "if you really think you have to, but keep out of Mommy's way, okay.".
And so he did. Nathaniel spent all day inside his room, as always, watching TV. He knew that there would be a call from the school, soon, asking why he hadn't been there for 4 days running, but he didn't worry much, his mom would just discard it, she never confronted him with anything.
His foot gave another lurch of pain worse than the first and he had to hold his breath, not to scream. Nathaniel had considered going to the hospital, but he didn't know how he would get there and he was sure his mom wouldn't take him. His father might have though. Sometimes Nathaniel still thought of his father.
Nathaniel had been very young when his father left. He only had tree clear memories of him. One was his smile. Nathaniel's father always smiled. When he was angry, and would walk around the apartment yelling, kicking things over and hitting his mom, he would smile.
Second and third memory, Nathaniel didn't know about, maybe they were the same and maybe they were to very separate memories.
Second was Nathaniel's farther sitting with his back against the wall of his mother bedroom with a gun in his left hand. Third was red fluid all over the wall and the floor, and his father sitting with his head between his legs, and red fluid running down the floor to the tip of Nathaniel's feet. After that Nathaniel never saw his farther again. When he asked his mother where he had gone, she simply replied that he had left and that Nathaniel wasn't aloud mention him again. So he didn't.
Nathaniel turned the sound on his TV up. He didn't like thinking about his father, he had the feeling he wasn't supposed to. He knew that was rubbish, his mother, off cause, couldn't read his mind, but he always felt bad when he did think about him.
His foot gave another lurching pain. This one hurt like someone was trying to split his foot open with a screwdriver. They were becoming more frequent now and every one hurt more than the other. Nathaniel told him self that it would get better if he just got some sleep. In his experience thing often did. His stomach had once hurt for weeks and then finally, one day, as he was walking toward school, his stomach had given a terrible stabbing pain and he had passed out on the sidewalk. Three days later he had woken in a strangely lit room, with white walls and a TV hanging in a strange possession in the corner. The Nurse told him that he had slept for nearly 4 days; she further told him that they had to open his stomach, to get out the thing that was hurting him.
The nurse had said that Nathaniel was lucky. If he hadn't gotten to the Hospital in time they wouldn't have been able to save him. The nurse was smiling as she told him this. Nathaniel noticed that she smiled in the very same way his father used to. This thought scared Nathaniel and he turned over in his bed. He didn't feel like thinking any more, but thought were never in his control. He fell asleep moments later.
Nathaniel dreamt of screaming, pushing, blood, feet being cut in two and long hands emerging from within a wound the size of fists. He woke with a start. His bed was wet and clammy, and Nathaniel was immediately sure he had urinated in it again. But his crouch was completely dry. He opened his eyes, and looked straight in to another pair of eyes. He closed them again. "I am still asleep" he began whispering to him self, "I am still asleep". He shut his eyes even tighter. He had never seen such eyes, they were sad, not crying or aching, but just had a look of pure sadness. Nathaniel kept his eyes closed for a while trying to convince himself that those eyes had been but a dream. When he finally mustered up the courage to open his eyes again they where still there. Those eyes of pure sadness.