Grandma's Medicine

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
Okay, so. This being my first piece of writing on this site I hope to see some positive feed back!

This short story is of a normal everyday guy helping his Grandma but the atmosphere of the book quickly changes as dangers and bad decisions take their toll.

Submitted: May 25, 2016

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Submitted: May 25, 2016



As I abandoned my house and slammed my paint peeled door shut, the smell of an old campfire wafted throughout the streets. Its early, very early, and the emptiness is almost abrasive. I’m never up this early however, the walk to the local pharmacy is miles, might take me an hour or so. Grandma ran out of her medication, the medication that kept her sane once. So, there I was with no way of diverting this long, and quite lonesome journey. Whilst I descended to the first cracked concrete step it wobbled underneath my foot, causing me to trip slightly to the next. We needed them fixed Grandma and I but, I just couldn’t afford it on my own.  

I continued to tred and stumble down our ridged old street, then I turned and noticed something. Down an alley, where the burnt wood smell had arisen from, a pile of torn and disfigured clothes were in ruins from an unmerciful flame the previous night. They were slowly decaying and looked completely mutilated, this was the aftermath of being engulfed by dancing red light and murderous black smoke. I did not know the reason why; one word ran through my mind on a constant repeat for minutes on end ‘evidence’. I sped up my walking due to the uncomfortable atmosphere and the aroma of clues stung at the rims of my nostrils. Further down the road I reached the corner shop, the ‘we’re closed’ sign still rejecting the world from entering. A pair of teenagers, dressed dark and concealed, sneered at me while plodding past. No eye contact was made, even if it was I couldn’t afford the hospital bill. Grandma went to the hospital once, had to get favours for loans, still haunted by the debt to this day.

I slipped into a stargazed state and wondered into the next little town; still half responsive at least. This town was better kept then home, also all the walls were unchipped and neatly camouflaged as an ashy grey colour matching they sky most days. Days like that day in fact. All the perfectly lined up trimmed hedges all cut with precision and in fancy geometric shapes. I halted outside an immense house, and observed its oval shaped front door. I asked myself aloud ‘I wonder what’s behind those walls, a happy family perhaps? Or would they be realistic?’ Every time I walked down that street I’d study that particular house, without a reason, it just satisfied me. I sighed and carried on however; dragged my weight along the newly laid pavement lazier then before. An invisible, featherweight mass was pulling me downward I could’ve mistook it for weighing one-hundred kilos. It was all in my head, Grandma used to say, ‘try not to hold on.’

Children, about three or four, rushed out of the building toward the end of the road. They giggled and shrieked loudly chasing each other in the street and play fought boisterously. An older girl at the age of a preteen followed the small stampede of trouble, shouting, the space between us made the girl’s voice muffled and slightly distorted. She sounded frustrated, infuriated even. As I approached the end of the road her echo became clear, ‘Quiet, quiet! You’re meant to be quiet…’  Her words confused me, why ‘Quiet’? I once conjured up so many question which I didn’t have the ability to answer myself.

Suddenly a bang! The children screamed, the girl cried and my eyes widened.

 A beast with a scratched leather muzzle creeped around the bend at the end of the street. Drool leaked from the edge of the prison which encased its mighty jaws. It sniffed the pavement then wondered into the road, its eyes sharpened toward the girl. She backed away from the supposed dog and looked very shaken. I hadn’t a clue what had taken place. I noticed the chain attached to the collar, this creature was tamed, it obeyed against its will to someone. It began to growl and charged for the girl but in a swift second he stopped at the sound of a dog whistle. He retreated back to the bend and sat waiting patiently next to a pair of heavy leather boots.

He emerged from the back streets and his shadow trailed behind blacker then his intensions. With a hand gun held loosely in his left hand and the other tightly gripped into an entanglement of fingers forming a fist. His eyes pierced through me like a needle to pale skin. It made my head ache and my heart stutter. I started to shake and before I knew it we were eye to eye. I felt his breath on my face, I gulped out of nervousness and looped the words ‘dear god please watch over me’ in my mind through the achiness. A small bead of sweat slid down the side of my forehead as he exhaled, his warm breath made my skin tingle.

‘what, punk?!’ he grumbled and traced my facial expression onto his own before grinning and narrowing down his eyes to a minimal. He shoved me, and I grazing my arms and elbows on the gavel below me, I bled slightly. He demanded aggressively ‘I said, what punk?!’ my scattered words were all over the ground mixed between loose rock and a couple drips of my blood. I glimpsed over my shoulder to realise the girl and young children were long gone and too far to help me collect up my answer. I should’ve ran with them however; I didn’t seem to have the urge to.

I snapped back and words began tumbling out of my mouth, rolling off the end of my tongue.  ‘Please I…’ Bang. He skimmed the trigger and annoyed it, making it explode. Everything faded, my vision drunk and blurry like an old television set. Darkness. The horizon became gradually more opaque. Then I saw Grandma, “where are my pills?” she asked.  

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