Stepping out of the Box

I decided to step outside of my comfort level for this. I feel like i have a good grasp with humor. So for this, I wanted to try something new. I have never been in this sort of situation, so alolng with the writing style, and had to try to imagine the situation too. I would love feedback as to how you feel about it.
P.S. I apologize for the lack of indents to new paragraphs, I have tried to fix it five times, and it continues to show up like this.

Moving On

Thomas sat on the edge of his couch and listened to the ticking of the clock that sat on the mantle place. The rhythmic sound of the gears turning did nothing more than to remind him that the time was coming closer to end for one of the best chapters of his life. He sat up and looked down the hallway that seemed to stretch on through an eternity and he was increasingly dreading taking the walk down the hall with each tick of the clock.
Thomas waited for the door at the hallway to open, but he wasn’t sure how he would react when it did. He hoped beyond reason that if he closed his eyes tight enough, the nightmare he was in would be over and his life would return to some sense of normalcy. As he closed his eyes so tight that he could feel the moistures of his tears build up, Thomas heard the sound of the door opening and the footsteps of his seven year old daughter as she walked across the wooden floor.
His daughter came to him and put her arms around his neck and squeezed tightly. He could smell his daughter’s sweet cherry lip gloss that she had worn everyday since receiving it on her last birthday. He returned her hug and was suddenly overcome with happier times.
Thomas thought fondly of his wedding day where it seemed like his life had truly begun. He remembered showing off each of his kids like a shiny new trophy to his wife as she lay on the hospital beds following their deliveries. And he thought of the long sleepless nights before special occasions where last minute wrapping and assembling of present took place. He wanted to wrap himself up in the warmth of those memories.
“It’s your turn, daddy,” his daughter said as she slowly let go of her dad.
Thomas forced his eyes open and looked up at the beautiful blond little girl. He could see that she too had been recently crying, but somehow Samantha managed to have a small crooked smile across her face. Her innocence shined on her face. Thomas reached out his hand and gently wiped away the solitary tear that ran across her smooth satin skin.
“Are you okay, sweetie,” asked Thomas.
“Yeah, dad. I’m ok.”
Thomas continued to look at his daughter, and he felt a great deal of comfort that he could see so many of his wife’s features in the little girl’s face. She had the same green eyes with a tiny blue speck and the dimple on her cheek that would someday melt the heart of some lucky man.
Thomas stood up and felt like he was carrying a thousand pounds on his back. He knew he would have to go in the room, but his feet didn’t seem to remember how to work. He slowly stepped forth, one foot after the other, but each time his body tried to propel him back to the couch.
As he made his way to the end of the long hallway, he turned and looked once more at Samantha. She now sat peacefully on the floor of the living room with her grandmother as they colored in her sketchpad. Thomas was glad that he didn’t have to go through this alone. His mother had come to help with things around the house, and he was thankful that she was willing to stay for as long as he and Samantha needed.
Thomas took in a deep breath as he turned to face the door and he dried the tears from his face. He needed to be brave, despite the fact that he was transparently terrified. When he pushed the door open, Thomas was met with the warmth radiating from the small room. The only sound in the room was a variety of beeping of alarms and the gentle humming coming from the different medical devices that filled the room. While most people would be annoyed or even scared of the machines, he had grown accustomed to them.
Thomas looked across the room at the tiny frail body that occupied the bed. He could feel his heart shatter at the site. He couldn’t imagine anyone having to go through what that body had experienced over the last year and a half. It seemed like torture.
“Hey, dad,” said his son as he struggled for air.
Thomas fought back the tears that were ready to burst from his eyes like a broken dam. “Hey buddy.”
“You . . . don’t look so good.” Once again his son gasped for air as he tried to speak.
Thomas let out a small laugh at Michael’s irony, but he knew his son could tell he was barely holding it together. For a thirteen year old, Michael had always been keenly aware of other’s emotional state, and after being cooped up in hospitals for so long, he became very observant of those close to him.
“You shouldn’t talk.” Thomas sat down beside his son, and silenced one of the machines next to the bed. “You need to save your energy.”
“Dad, it’s time.” Michael began to cough uncontrollably and with each cough his body seemed to be fighting to stay together.
Thomas helped his son sit up, and adjusted the pillows behind the small boys back. His son had fought off the cancer for a year longer than the doctors had expected, and with each day his body continued to surrender the fight but his mind held on.
Thomas shook his head and began to cry.
“There is so much I still want to say to you,” said Thomas.
Thomas didn’t want to lose anyone else. His wife had died shortly after Samantha turned two in an accident, and the only reason Thomas had gotten through that was because of his kids. Just as he felt like he was gaining some control of his life, he had to watch his son lose his battle with cancer.
Michael began coughing harder this time, and Thomas could swear he could see his son’s life slowly leaving his body.
Thomas threw his head down on his son’s lap and began to cry and plead in his heart with any higher power for his son’s life to be spared.
“Dad . . .” Michael found the strength to stroke his father’s head. “It’s gonna be fine.”
Thomas picked up his head and peered through tear filled eyes at his son.
“I’m tired, dad. But I don’t want to leave you and Samantha.” Michael’s lungs seemed to become increasingly difficult to fill. “I can’t go knowing you won’t be okay.”
Thomas wiped the tears from his eyes and could see the suffering in Michael’s eyes. The same brown eyes that once had been filled with such strength now seemed to long for relief. Thomas nodded softly, knowing that his son wouldn’t go until he knew his family was going to get through this loss. He couldn’t make his little boy suffer any more. Thomas needed to take care of his family, even his dying son.
“I love you, dad.”
Thomas sat up and held his head down to give his son a kiss on his forehead. “I love you too. We love you. We’re gonna be just fine Michael. But we will miss you. It’s time for you to go back to mommy. ”
Thomas continued to kiss his son’s head as he felt the small body finally lose the fight. Thomas reached down and picked up the small fragile body in his arms and cradled his son for the last time. The tears rolled down his cheek and landed on his little boy’s face.
Michael was gone.

Characterization Short Story.

This was a piece I did recently to practice with my character development. I ended up having some fun with it too.




The darkness behind his eyes was overwhelmingly difficult to shake off. Harold couldn’t even remember falling asleep last night. To make matters worse, his whole body felt like he was gently rolling across the ocean, which could only mean that his Ambien really knocked him out and he was still feeling the effects. The strange thing was that as he continued to wake, he began to increasingly realize that he was sleeping on a very hard surface.
“Aw crap! I must have passed out after taking my medicine.” While Harold had lived in seclusion from the world most of his life, he found some comfort in talking out loud to himself.
“Rise and shine, Sunshine,” said an obnoxiously pleasant voice that was obviously not Harold’s.
Harold’s eyes had quickly snapped open, and he found himself blinded by the harsh rays of the sun beating down on him. His heart began to pound through his chest and his whole body seized up as his worst nightmare seemed to be coming true. He was outdoors.
“It’s just a dream! It’s just a dream!” Harold repeated it over and over as he closed his eyes once more in hopes that when he opened them again he would find himself in the comforts of his tiny isolated home.
“You got that right,” the overly obnoxious voice sounded again. “This is the dream! And you can thank me later!”
As Harold stayed motionless on the floor he had a sudden epiphany that the voice belonged to the all-to-pushy, so-called Psychiatrist, Dr. Thomas Radco. He had only ever spoken to the man on the phone and from behind the safety of his front door, with all seventeen deadbolts fiercely secured, but he knew instantly who was now hovering over him. Even without the fishbowl effect from each of the peepholes that he normally observed the man through, he recognized the disheveled long hair and the tropical hula shirts, which, made Harold cringe each time he saw them.
“Sorry we have to meet this way, but, man, is it great to finally talk to you face to face!” Dr. Radco smiled widely enough that Harold could see all of his pearly white teeth.
“You . . . you,” Harold stammered. Evidently all of the moisture had left his mouth in order to compensate for the pool of sweat he felt was about to drown in.
“I know, right now it seems a bit extreme, but trust me when I say this is the path to a better life.” Dr. Radco continued to show off all of his teeth, which left Harold wishing he didn’t have a phobia of human contact so he could punch the guy.
“A bit extreme?!” Harold’s breathing became increasingly difficult. “You kidnapped me!”
“‘Kidnapping’ sounds a touch harsh. Sure, I broke into your home, drugged you, and brought you out of your fortress of solitude, but you gave me no choice. After all, you came to me for help,” said Dr. Radco.
“I made one call! And that was a month ago. You might remember me hanging up on you after telling you never to call back.” Harold had freaked out when the doctor had suggested that he free himself of his social anxiety by walking outside. Naked. “Not to mention that I have a restraining order out on you after you came to my house every day since that phone call!”
“All of those sound like a cry for help to me.” Dr. Radco placed his hands proudly on his hips. “Trust me, I’m a doctor. I know a cry for help.”
“What?! Are you even a licensed Psychiatrist?”
Harold slowly stood up so he could find a cop or at least a way back home, and was increasingly aware that his body was still feeling woozy. The whole world seemed to be rocking back and forth. “Where the hell are we?”
“Now, don’t panic, but I knew this was the only way we could get some one-on-one time to really root out those behaviors that are preventing you from being happy.”
Harold blinked through the sun that now seemed to be burning his skin off. As he gazed around he felt an increase in panic as he recognized an unending color of blue that stretched through the horizon. “I’m on a boat!” His voice reached an octave it hadn’t pitched to since pre-puberty.
“Isn’t it great?” Dr. Radco held his arms high in the air like a magician revealing a trick. “And just at you, you seem to be getting more and more comfortable outside of your home.”
Harold’s breathing quickened and he felt the bile beginning to rise from his stomach.
“Harry, you gotta breathe!” Dr. Radco placed his hand on Harold’s shoulder and mimicked a breathing technique. “In through the nose, and out through the mouth.
Harold hated being called Harry, but was couldn’t decide if he was more panicked to be outside, or that he was now having physical contact with the delusional doctor.
“There you go.” Dr. Radco smiled again. “Let’s close our eyes and push the bad energy from our body.”
SMACK!
Dr. Radco found himself spinning in the air like a crazed trapeze artist and crashing down in the chilly waters. He struggled to get his head back above water and expel the copious amount of water he had breathed in. After he coughed up what seemed a lung-full of salt water, he heard the rumbling of the boat engine.
Harold had taken advantage of the psychopath’s eyes being closed and cracked an oar upside his head. As he drove off he heard the doctor screaming, “This is the first step to healing!”
Only a moron could imagine that this was a proper technique for behavior modification. However, maybe it was the cool breeze blowing through his hair or the vast ocean stretching out through the horizon, but Harold did feel a modicum of relief from his anxiety. He considered for a split second turning the boat around and retrieving the long haired pathetic excuse for a psychiatrist. He smiled proudly as he continued on to an unknown destination.

Creative Writing Class Short Story

Values Be Damned

Joshua sat in the high backed chair and could feel his perspiration soaking into his clothing. While he had already taken off his sweater, the only thing left to remove was his t-shirt, which he felt would make his meeting awkward. Joshua decided that he needed to get his mind off the heat of the office.
The room had blinds on the wall, but when Joshua opened them, he found more walls. Instead of lights, there were several candles hung on the walls, and after what felt to be an hour of waiting in the office, the candles hadn’t seemed to have burned down. Despite the abundant number of candles, the office was still dark enough that Joshua needed to squint to see around the rest of the room.
All along the walls, there were several pictures that all appeared to have the same man, dressed like he was going to a funeral, posing with several different people.. He stood up to get a closer look and found that the man in each of the pictures was smiling proudly while the others in the pictures looked like they had suffered a horrendous loss or had just received news of cancer.
The many oddities around the office left Joshua feeling increasingly puzzled that he had no clue as to where he was or who he was meeting. Joshua sat back in the chair and felt it would be best if he just continued to try to find ways to avoid thinking of the heat.
There was a high pitched grating as the lock on the door slowly turned. The door creaked open and Joshua was swept back in his chair as he felt like someone had opened up an oven door and his nostrils flared with the smell of burnt meat. In the doorway stood the man from the pictures, wearing the same style black button up shirt and pants that he wore in the pictures.
“I apologize for keeping you waiting so long, but you know how business can be. It seems like an eternity since I have had a vacation.” The man let out a little chuckle at his private joke as he closed the door behind him and walked to his desk.
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” said the man cheerfully.
Joshua stood up and extended his hand out, but the dark man just walked past him and sat on the other side of the desk.
“I must admit, that I have been waiting for you for sometime.”
“Really?” Joshua asked.
“Absolutely. It isn’t everyday that we get someone with your sort of values here.”
“Thanks . . . I think” Joshua felt a little strange at the man’s excitement, especially since he still had no clue as to who the man was or where they were at.
The held his head back and began laughing uncontrollably. After five minutes of laughter, Joshua was feeling a little uncomfortable, but continued to sit in silence.
The man’s laughter slowly subsided and he clutched his chest as he tried to catch his breath. "Oh man . . . I’m sorry for that, but you guys fall for it every time.” He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and began drinking from a glass on his desk.
He sat the cup back on the desk, placed his hands on the desk and with a serious look said, “No. We actually get your type here every day. You, my good man, are in Hell.”
Joshua waited for the laughter to return, but the man continued with his glare. “I’m sorry, did you say Hell?”
“Yep. This is Hell, and I happen to be Satan. Don’t feel special. I meet all of the newbies.” The smile on Satan’s face now matched the pictures on the wall, leaving Joshua wondering if he had a similar dejected look like the other down trodden souls shown in the pictures.
“I know it may seem hard to believe, but we need to get past the whole disbelief and doubt. I have several other unlucky sinners to welcome. Here this may help.” A flash of fire erupted on Satan’s face and the skin slowly melted away revealing a blackened skull that somehow still appeared to be smiling. Joshua wanted to claw his way over the back of the chair but he was frozen in terror.
The skeleton began laughing again and just as fast as the flames had formed, all of the skin returned. Satan continued to laugh as Joshua slowly came to grips with the situation.
“Uh . . . There . . . There,” Joshua was having difficulty with forming a sentence. “There must be . . .” Joshua swallowed hard to get the rest out. “. . . A mix-up.”
Satan slapped his head and slowly dragged his hand down his face. “Why does everyone question me? You screwed up. You sinned. You died. You’ve gone to Hell. Don’t act too surprised.” Satan’s seriousness returned. “Don’t try telling me that you never heard the warnings. The big guy upstairs, who everyone loves so much, certainly went overboard with his advertising budget.”
“Yeah . . . I did.” Joshua just couldn’t believe that he would end up in Hell.
“Good, then you know why you are here.” Death stood to leave; feeling satisfied that he had made his point.
“Actually, I don’t.”
Satan’s face began to turn a deep shade of crimson, which made Joshua worry that it would erupt in flames again. “What don’t you understand? You break the rules and you end up here.”
“No I understand that.”
“My records show that you broke several of my favorite rules.” Satan began to list off Joshua’s transgressions with his fingers, “Fornication, blasphemy, laziness, and wearing black pants with brown belts in the same outfit to name a few.”
Death lowered his hand and said, “Okay so the last one isn’t too bad, but you get my point. So let’s make our way to the brimstone and eternity of suffering, shall we,” asked Satan with a demonic grin.
Death extended his arm to the door, but Joshua remained sitting. Death figured he was going to have to call one of the hell hounds to drag the poor disbelieving man from his office. However, he was shocked when Joshua began laughing.
Joshua slowly stopped laughing as Death was coming to grips that Joshua had cracked up. “I don’t belong here.”
“Ok, you are forcing me to get my hell hounds.”
As Death began turning the handle to leave, Joshua words interrupted him. “I got baptized last week.”
Joshua waited for a reaction, but Death just continued to hold the door knob. “A couple of months ago two guys wearing white shirts and ties knocked on my door. I listened to what they had to say, and let them baptize me last week. No more sins.”
“Well crap.” Death’s head dropped and he looked down at his feet. “Death bed baptism, huh?” Death shook his head in disbelief. “Well, we could have had some real fun. At least I would have.”
Death turned to face Joshua and smiled, but not as proudly as he had in each of the pictures. He held up his hand and snapped his fingers transporting Joshua out of the small dark office. Joshua woke to find himself standing outside gates of the most brilliant white and gold. He smiled proudly as he pushed open the heavy gates and walked through.