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TITLE (EDIT)
Love That Never Dies |
DESCRIPTION
Daniel Jackson lives with his father. Both are having a great deal of trouble overcoming a tragedy that occured a few years prior, and neither of them knows how to deal with it. If they don't find a way soon, it may be too late for both of them.
[1,273 words] |
TITLE KEYWORD
Relationships |
AUTHOR
Andrea Diane Brown |
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
My name is Andrea Brown and I'm an 18 year old high school senior from Albuquerque, New Mexico. I'm going off to college soon where I plan to major in creative writing. Writing has been a passion of mine for as far back as I can remember. My ultimate goal is to become a screenwriter, but I want my short stories to take off a bit more before I begin developing any major scripts.
[March 2002] |
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL ADDRESS
SAndrea91483@aol.com |
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (3)
False Accusations (Short Stories) Something's wrong in Sandra Richardson's life, but she just can't figure out what's going on. Will she get the help needed to uncover the truth before it's too late? [1,304 words] [Suspense]
Qualities Of A Friend (Short Stories) John Denton, a high school sophomore, is excited to learn about the new neighbor his age moving in next door. John likes him, and wants to be his friend, but how will his old friends take it? [844 words] [Teenage]
Scars On Scarlet (Short Stories) This is a short story I wrote on self mutilation. [804 words] [Drama]
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Love That Never Dies
Andrea Diane Brown
Engulfed in the pitch blackness of the early morning hours, Daniel Jackson lay silently
sleeping in the center of his attic bedroom. A strong wind blew the curtains away from the open
portion of the window and sent Daniel’s bedcovers swiftly to the floor, leaving his stiff body
exposed to the bitter coldness that came from outside. He did not stir, but rather slept as though
he were dead. If only he were dead. If that had been the case, then she would not be. Daniel had
considered this scenario several times in the past two and a half years. It was his fault, he thought
constantly. It should have been him in the first place, and he had yet to get over the fact that she
would still be alive if only he had gone instead of her, as he had been asked to.
Well rested, Daniel bounded down the two flights of stairs and sat down at the kitchen
table. His father turned his head away from the eggs he was frying so that he was looking over
his shoulder at Daniel. Mr. Jackson was smiling, but the sadness had never left his eyes, not once
in more than two years. Daniel hated for his father to look him in the eyes. It only reminded him
of his mother, who Daniel was convinced would still be there if it had not been for him.
“Sleep well? ,” asked Mr. Jackson, who had now gone back to fixing breakfast.
“Yeah, I think I’m getting better at it.” Daniel had been having trouble sleeping through the night
ever since the accident. He had only been able to accomplish this recently, and even so, only on
occasion. Mr. Jackson brought two plates of fried eggs and toast to the table and sat down beside
Daniel.
Later that afternoon, Daniel returned home from school with a bruised eye and blood
dripping onto his chest from a gash in his neck. He had hoped to clean himself up before his
father came home and saw what had happened. To Daniel’s dismay, his father was parking his car
in the driveway just as Daniel was coming up the street. Mr. Jackson was home early from work
yet again, as he was allowed to do so once every week if he felt he needed to. He was still
grieving for his wife, and although he was a hard worker, it sometimes clouded his thinking and
caused him to perform poorly on matters that required his full concentration. His boss had been
very sympathetic toward Mr. Jackson and considerate in letting him take time off with pay. As
Daniel bolted through the front door, Mr. Jackson followed at his heels.
“Danny? Danny! What happened? Not again!” He called out frantically, but Daniel had already
locked himself in the bathroom and was crying even harder than he had been at school. Every so
often, the memory of that dreaded phone call hit him while he was in class. Some of the other
guys had thought him to be weak as he tended to get upset suddenly and without any evident
cause, and they found pleasure in beating the tears out of him as he walked home from school.
After what seemed to Daniel to be an hour, although it had only been a few minutes, he ran wet
hands over his face and went out to join his father, who was still calling to him through the closed
door.
The metallic blade glistened as it caught the light given off by Daniel’s bedside lamp.
Daniel had it clenched within a closed fist as he examined it closely. With each breath he took, he
drew it nearer to him, and then closer still. Suddenly, his fist relaxed and the knife dropped upon
the floor, as if the thought had never crossed his mind. He did not intend to drop it, and did not
know how his muscles had loosened and his hand came unclenched. He dismissed it as simply
being nerves, although he was certain he was feeling more desire than nerves at that point.
Bending over to retrieve it, he felt a jerk on his shoulder, sending the knife flying through the air
in front of him. Startled, Daniel turned around only to gaze into the soft brown eyes of his
mother. He rubbed his eyes vigorously to ensure that what he was seeing was real. Left
speechless, Daniel stared anxiously at her as she opened her mouth to speak. “No,” she
whispered, barely audible, but enough so that Daniel could hear her. “You’ll only kill him with
you! NO!” Daniel, at last able to express a sound, let out a blood curdling scream, and his
mother vanished within seconds.
Daniel looked up to see his father standing over him. Mr. Jackson fretfully asked the
purpose of the knife which had been flung onto Daniel’s bed, but all Daniel could do was talk
about his mother. He let out a cry that was half filled with fright and half with excitement. “I saw
her! I really did! She came and spoke to me! I saw her! Honest, I did!” Mr. Jackson gave him
a look of disbelief, and then began weeping. “She said you were in danger,” Mr. Jackson told his
son. “She came to me, too. She said you thought it was your fault, that you blame yourself.
Well, it’s NOT your fault, Daniel. It was an accident. She said she was rather it had been her that
got hit by the car when she was coming back from the store that day and not you.” They
embraced and for the first time since the accident, Daniel did not feel guilty about staying for
baseball practice, leaving his mother to run to the store in place of him. Daniel confided in his
father his intentions of slitting his throat. He had wanted to get away from it all; the harassment
he faced for expressing his emotions, the guilt he lived with daily thinking that he could have
saved his mother’s life if only he had canceled practice. Mr. Jackson now began to cry even
more. He lifted himself from the floor, took Daniel by the hand, and led him into the master
bedroom he had once shared with his beloved wife and now occupied alone. Daniel immediately
took notice of the noose hanging from the light fixture in the center of the room and the dresser
that had been pushed directly under it. “I found some old rope in the garage,” Mr. Jackson began
to explain. “At first I tried simply to strangle myself with it, but found that I lacked the strength
to do so. I thought this would be an alternative way of getting the job done. I wanted it to end.
I didn’t think I could deal with the pain of losing her anymore. But Daniel, you too? I had no
idea that . . . I couldn’t stand to lose both of you. I would have died of a broken heart for sure if I
hadn’t have . . . ” Mr. Jackson stopped to look at Daniel, who had been crying hysterically since
he saw what his father had constructed. “I guess,” he continued, “I never thought how you would
feel by losing both of US. But I see now.” Daniel knew exactly where he was coming from. “I
guess I never thought about it either. I mean, you took it really hard when Mom died. I never
stopped to consider what it would do to you if I died too. I guess I was only thinking of myself.”
Slightly smiling and realizing now what his mother’s warning meant, Daniel ran back up to his
room. Returning to his father, he produced the knife that had laid on his bed and with it,
destroyed the fate which his father had attempted to fashion for himself. “We’ll never forget her,”
Daniel said solemnly, “but we can survive together.”
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"I apologize about the poor formatting. My computer seems to always mess that up." -- Andrea Brown, Albuquerque, NM, USA.
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2002 Andrea Diane Brown |
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
March 2002 |
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
2199
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