(Rough Draft Version)
(Rough draft meaning that I haven't checked the grammer, sentence structure, spaces, and punctuation yet!)
A Short Story Written by: Linda Bernice Bailey
If you are going to walk on thin ice
you might as well dance...
Abruptly injected into his childhood's innocence Tempest was diagnosed with a multitude of what his psychiatrist thought were infectious mental
disorders. Sadistic Personality Disorder, Emotional Dysregulation and Narcissistic Personality Disorder. His doctor used the word infectious to emphasize that throughout his life these traits will
manifest themselves and his pain will be inflicted onto other people. His parents shortened the diagnoses to Sadistic-Emotionally-Narcissistic Dysregulation. It didn't take the sting out of what
it implied about their only child but it was easier to pronounce.
From ages 6 to seventeen he was educated in a school focusing on the needs of troubled youth with gifted minds. If you toss aside the multitude of
angry outbursts triggered by any physical contact with people he deemed “intellectually damaged”, his school years were very productive. His family was from an average household. Mom, Dad, his dog
Snake, and himself. He had shoulder length platinum-blond hair, gray eyes that could pierce steel, dark brown skin and a thin lipped mouth. He was indeed a beautiful specimen. His worst memory of
childhood racism was being called blondy or Storm from X-men. He hated being called Storm because she was a girl, but considering that he had brown skin he could deal with people calling him those
two names instead of the alternative one.
One of Tempest's odd attributes was his bone straight hair. It did not and would not curl. It was like it had a mind of its own. His parents found it unusual because most bi-racial people have curly hair however he didn't. He was subjected to his parents' occasional attempts to use a curling iron to do the trick. When he was about ten Tempest decided the curling iron thing was over. He snatched it from his mother's hands, threw her to the floor, held her down with his arm on her throat, rolled a lock of her hair around the curling iron and held it their until her hair became crispy and burnt off. That was the last day he let anyone touch his pale tresses. Eventually, his mother forgave him and wore a wig until her hair became presentable again. Fast forwarding to the current year of 2010, his age dangling at 29, those childhood memories seemed comforting and kindof humorous.
Shame on you. Stop biting my leg!
The makeup of his character was simple to explain, it was like ice, frozen water, nor'easter rain in January and a refrigerator turned down to level zero. His soul embodied the very meaning of the word tempest which means “furious agitation.” Eyes do reflect the soul and his eyes penetrated the vertebrae. His iris could touch you with an icy finger and play it like a piano, running his gaze up and down your spine.
This worked well with the opposite sex when he would be cursed with a chaste dame on a date. Hypnosis is a technique he learned and use because it fit so well with the narcissistic aspect of his being. Feigning love and alluding to a long-term relationship with each and every lady, he always got what he wanted. It thrilled him to devastate a woman after he had his way with her. After bedding her he would deny that he eluded to the possibility of being in a long-term relationship. Let alone in one with her. The icing on the cake was when he would offer his a frank explanation of how she was duped, then for fun throw in that she was also a slutty whore. Tempest's theory for life is if you are going to walk on thin ice you might as well dance. He embraced how his mental instability did indeed become infectious.
One day Tempest said to Tricky, “My dogs always eat to the bone.” Tricky, wanting to Tempest to love him more than anything decided that eating anything that moved would make Tempest happy. However, if he showed his talent of mashing meat and bone with his powerful jaws his owner would love him forever.
The canine and his human counterpart took a stroll in the Medley Park looking for Tricky's next meal - a hungry dog just has to be fed. A lanky pole thin woman ran right up the Tempest and asked him for twenty-five cents. Bad move. Tempest bellowed, “Who the fuck do you think you are to ask me for anything!? All of your crack addicted brethren should learn how to search and obtain employment instead of getting off on your fifty cent drug habit and bothering people such as myself!” She recoiled and had a strange look on her face - then a scream. During the verbal assault directed towards her Tricky took a big chunk of grade A human thigh... well her thigh. She was so high on crack-cocaine that the pain sensations her brain should have detected were dulled. The delay caused her to scream at the finale of Tempest's tirade as if punctuate his anger. Tricky decided to attack again so he could embrace all of the love that his owner could possibly give.
© 2010 by Linda Bernice Bailey
All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Linda Bernice Bailey.
© Copyright 2016 Lin Bailey. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Thrillers
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