4th Of July

Reads: 41  | Likes: 2  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 1

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

goats are on mushrooms. if you shoot a duck, ill be scared of toasters.

4th of July

It was a gray, but somehow bright sky; however it was freezing. and the day seemed to hold me in its unforgiving and discordant embrace. like a snake with a fresh egg, it grasped it until it broke open, revealing an innocent still born baby bird, left to rot under the cruel breath of God's servants. Around me, the atrocities of obscene humanity unfolded. The air I breathed was heavy and polluted with oil and sludge. It was a painful nuisance to breathe.

I hadn't talked to anyone for months and my sanity was growing weary. I decided to take a walk through the typical american suburb. It had tall pine trees and you could see traces of when they were once green. but they had died, only to leave the hauntingly inanimate shadows of giant trees. There were small one story houses with the typical plastic fake wood siding on them. Then I realized: it was the 4th of July. The flags and the smell of hidden atrocities reminded me of the disgusting holiday.

I decided to walk through the rest of the suburbs and I saw a few stereo-typical white men cooking burgers, laughing, and drinking some crude whiskey. It smelled like hot, sticky sugar. It smelled sweet and sickening. I walked around the roads near their houses. I was so nervous and felt so sick that I threw up a wasteful, orange puke. I walked through another neighborhood with the same image: the same yelling and the same kind of stereo-typical men. I saw one of them looking at me in a hateful way. I attempted to avoid it but he did not quit from making me feel like a freshly escaped convict. He strolled towards me confidently, as if he was sure of everything in this appalling and dreadful world, but he stopped walking towards me when he started choking on the thick and unnaturally polluted air. he laid down on the ground, choking, bleeding out of his mouth, begging god not to die. God won’t answer, I thought loudly. The words just became louder as they spiraled around my head. It turns out the unwholesome thought was right, because he stopped squawking and went uncomfortably silent, as the devil squeezed his fat body for any other signs of soul. but the devil would go hungry tonight. Blood, mucus, and coal dust with metal shards drained out of his guilty throat as his eyes watched me. They were wide open, like he was looking for a sign of release.

As I walked away behind the trees, I heard a person wailing over the rotten meat suit the unholy earth was sucking in already. The franticity of the screaming stopped after a while and turned to weeping; however it was only one person grieving. I suddenly heard a .38 caliber pistol go off and I looked out from behind the dead pine tree I had been creepily hiding under. a woman, short and stereo-typically housewife-looking, had shot herself on top of the mutilated asshole of a man that was “alive” just some minutes ago. it was a shame she felt like she needed him, because she didn’t.

She would have burned soon anyways, my brain looped like a piston moves in a cylinder. I threw up again, but this time I felt some flesh ripped from the bottom of my stomach, I ripped it out from my throat and observed it. When I threw it on the ground, I could see the ticks indulging in my emotionless blood. They sucked so much they popped, and like junkies and heroin, they needed it until it killed them.

I smelled sugar coming from somewhere. I looked behind me and two twin girls in stupid cliche skirts with flowers on them were following me. they looked between the ages of 12 and 13. They had pigtails and freckles and were very pale -- almost dead looking. They followed me through the streets, staring at me the whole time. Their eyes glistening and dilated, they seemed to be unnervingly happy. Hours of restless walking through the suburbs and they hadn’t quit; but they had became so much taller. they towered over me and stretched out disproportionately, until they went back to “normal” as they were before.

I could not feel my legs at all when I finally laid down on the unpleasantly warm and oily road. The tall American pine trees had acquired eyes that followed my own and watched me in close observation . They grew around my face as I stood up again. They stared at me with empty eyes and pointed their thoughts at me. I hated the way they looked at me. I hated their martyr-like look, as they thought they did everything right and I did everything wrong.  I stood there for a while as they told me things right in my face. I could not make out what they were saying but it was totally random.

After some time in this wooden-prison, I was let out. it was excruciatingly hot and the disgusting smell of artificial sweet started to burn. The smell made me sad and reminded me of my childhood so long ago; how I had grown so bitter, fallen so deep into hatred for myself and for others, and destroyed shame and emotional destruction.

It’s too late now, I thought. And it only reeked more and more. then the smell of burning plastic, gasoline, oil, and sap all came to my nose. It was so hot that the windows on the houses started to turn orange. More people died the same death as the awful man who chased me down.

Just as life works, everything just was made worse and worse by the minute. Priests lit fires and threw baby goats into them to make sacrifices they thought would help save the world. I could hear their screams from a mile away. It was so hot that I decided to stick my head in the lake nearby. to my dismay, the water was so oily and polluted it would choke me if I even went near it. and it was also steaming with heat.

The scenes that I observed in my final hour was dehumanizing, disturbing, and orange with heat and anger. a small child crying over the sight of his entire family slaughtered and dripping with blood down the street. the KKK slowly ripping the skin of an innocent black child with a knife shaped like a cross. a poor old couple lying on each top of each other, dead. They had died with their heads together, and their hands holding on to one another. I could already smell rotting from them and a dead fox lay on the side of the road, malnourished, the tears that streamed from his eyes were still visible. they glistened silently and somberly, ignoring the negative chaos coming from around him.

I layed down beside it and wrapped my arms around it. “don’t cry,” I whispered, as the whole world went from under my feet. and it all turned white.


Submitted: October 28, 2021

© Copyright 2021 hennessy44. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:



Is this story McDonalds? Cause I'm loven' it! bada bop bop ba

Thu, October 28th, 2021 11:43pm


aW tHaNks mAdsy

Fri, October 29th, 2021 7:10am

Facebook Comments

More Other Short Stories

Other Content by hennessy44

Short Story / Other