Note - This is the continuation of a vanity project. A novel written in parts, with minimal editing or fuss. If I like the end result I may gather up all the parts and rewrite them into something better. This is a learning process. I’m a decent writer but a total amateur when it comes to putting a good story together.
Hoping to learn via this process. This is all practice for a narrative I’ve been wanting to write for years, so join me as we work out how to tell a story!
You can find parts 1, 2, 3, and 4 here.
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“Hope, in reality, is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man.”
- Friedrich Nietzsche.
Fred led Jonathan inside the cabin. Jonathan was surprised to discover it was quite comfortable inside. A large rug on the floor, a big fireplace, some couches. A few candles were placed around small shelves on the walls, which Fred lit as Jonathan stood staring. A kitchen of sorts was part of the main room, and a few rooms were off to the side that Jonathan assumed were bedrooms. This was practically a mansion compared to the beaten up cube that Jonathan had always known, and he felt almost-dirty just being in there. Fred followed him in, smiling in obvious satisfaction.
”You like my place eh fatty?”
Jonathan nodded, afraid to even touch anything or to sit down.
”Here.” Fred grabbed a towel from the back of the couch. “Come with me”
He led Jonathan into the further of the two adjoining rooms, in it was a jerry-rigged shower. It was just a bucket hung up with holes in it. Fred told Jonathan to undress then left to grab something, returning quickly with a larger bucket full of water.
”Now boy, no fancy hot water here, so I suggest you use a bit to get lathered up with this soap, then pour it in and wash it all off”
He handed Jonathan some old rags: “Just scrub that shit off, I want you to come out smelling like a person again”
Fred left him alone. Jonathan looked around the room. Besides the shower in the corner rigged up to what looked like a home made drain, the room was practically empty. Despite this; memories of a long lost home were triggered again. He could practically hear his mothers voice calling him as he showered. Jon shook his head and forced the memories away again.
A mirror was in the corner, full height. Jonathan had not seen himself in years, maybe even a decade. He stripped and stood in front of the mirror. Jolts of shame assaulted him, a true feeling of disgust. Realizing with a sort of comical horror that this was the first time he’d seen his own penis in years.
Jonathan turned from the mirror, vowing never to look at it again. He lathered up, and scrubbed as if he could work away the last few days. Cleaning up and using rags to dry himself. Jonathan started pulling his clothes back on, which was basically a one-piece brown jumpsuit. Jonathan had worn exclusively this for a long time, being unable and unwilling to buy anything better. As he stuck his leg in his foot went right through the material and out the other side. Jonathan grunted in exasperation. He looked up and noticed Fred had entered, smirking. Jonathan quickly tried to hide his nudity, but Fred truly didn’t seem bothered by that.
”Here, took a bit to find something to fit that fat ass, but this might do”
He presented Jonathan with some blue overalls, and a massive white shirt, both practically too big for Jonathan. As he put them all on he went against his vow and glanced quickly in the mirror again. He actually felt they looked better than the ridiculous brown and bland jumpsuit he had worn for so long. It was a novel experience for Jon to actually enjoy the experience of the mirror. It felt very strange. Despite this, he still promised himself he’d avoid looking at it again for a while.
When he reentered to main cabin area he saw Jonathan busy at a bench in what must be the kitchen area.
”I got something for ya boy, probably not like the processed crap I’m sure your fat body is used to, but it’ll do ya good.”
It was a sort of stew or soup, thin, pasty, but with a whole bunch of vegetables in there that Jonathan had only dreamed of for years. It was full of stringy white pieces of what appeared to be meat. Fred caught Jonathan’s strange looks and expressions. “It’s chicken soup boy, good for ya, eat up” handing Jonathan a hard bread of sorts for dipping, and showing Jon what to do with it.
Jonathan began to eat, then realizing his famishment, he ate like a starved beast.
”Now now, you’ll get yourself sick if you go too fast, I have a thought, tell me your story while we eat”
Jonathan told him everything, he intended to hold some things back (like the black stabbing) but decided he had nothing to lose at this point. He told the whole story as far back as the original threats. Jonathan told Fred nothing about his earlier history, or anything else about his life.
Fred seemed thoughtful, he grabbed an old dusty bottle from the kitchen bench, and two small glasses. Pouring one for each of them, he lit up a smoke, and downed his glass in one gulp. He didn’t react to Jonathan’s story in any of the way’s that were expected. No outrage at the murder, no disgust at Jonathan’s life or expulsion. Simply a sort of stoic acceptance.
”Alright now… well boy, I have been living out here for two generations now, we was out here before Condonia even existed, we have been living this way for 5 generations now. We raise our animals, we grow our food, and we get by. Soon you’ll meet our neighbors, and if you’re unlucky you’ll meet some of our tribal friends that come from over the hill to steal our animals. “
At this point Fred stopped explaining to allow Jonathan to cough through his swig of the drink.
”Yep hahahah, that’ll put hairs on your chest boy!”
”So… I need a little help around here, and it seems you have nowhere else to go, how about you stay on and work on the farm with me? I’ll give you food and shelter. You can practically do what you like, though I do have one rule.”
For the first time Jonathan saw his demeanor change to something close to serious.
”You’ll find a few trapdoors around my property, like this here.” Pointing to a circular doorway in the floor of the main room, bolted with five different bolts and padlocks.
”Do not touch them, do not ask about them, do not even dream of thinking about them! We got a deal?”
Jonathan didn’t even have to think, just days ago he was ready for death, none of this even seemed real. He nodded vigorously.
”Oh an another thing” Fred smiled. “You won’t be fat for long around here, we wake up with the sun and work fucking hard!”
Jonathan smiled, thinking this could only be a great thing, but he might have felt otherwise if he knew what was coming.
Fred set Jon up to sleep in that same main room, giving him a pile of blankets and allowing him to sleep on the couch. He told Jon he’d sort out something more permanent soon. Jonathan slept soundly, no dreams, out like a stone as soon as his head hid the pillow. In the night though, he woke.
It was deadly quiet, and very dark. The candles had all been put out. The moon shone through the window, a sickly yellow sort of color; giving the whole scene surreal vibes. Jonathan looked around, wondering what could have woken him.
Suddenly he heard a scratching sound, like nothing he’d heard before, Jonathan could only imagine it as some sort of monstrous claw scraping across some sort of metal plate. It seemed almost desperate, a rabid sort of scraping, every few seconds or so.
Jonathan jumped to his feet and paced around the room, quietly. He realized quickly that the sounds were coming from the circular door in the center of the floor. He tip-toed right up to it, and whispered “What is it!?”
The sounds stopped the second he spoke. The silence returned, feeling almost oppressive now. Jonathan didn’t know how long he stood there waiting for another sound, but eventually he gave up and went to bed.
The rest of his sleep was undisturbed, and Jonathan woke up (to Fred’s gruff shout) feeling almost optimistic for the first time he could remember. It was a new day. Jonathan had moved beyond hope, and found himself feeling alive again.