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charcordell
North Carolina

Real Name:
charcordell
Member Since:
May 20, 2012

About Me

...I don't know I liked cracked? Batman is my favorite super hero (even though I don't know bat-shit about him) HA! See what I did there??

I once had a pet spider, it wasn't a tarantula it was one I caught, In a garbage bag, in a dump. I named him trashy I kept him in a glass cup beside my bed. He made a big web and caught fly's he eventually figured out how to follow me. We went every where together just me and trashy, the spider.

I write stories this is one right here:


He was just a kid but that’s all it really took. He decided he would go out on the town one lonely and fateful night. He really didn’t have anybody, hell as far as he figured he didn’t need anybody. He knew those were dangerous thoughts, but he didn’t care they were his thoughts. His thoughts, no one else’s. So he figured with thoughts like that and a penchant for mayhem, danger, and adventure. He left, no forethought no thinking before doing, just doing. Stupid he thought, that’s what he was being, but it made him feel dangerous so… Fuck it.
Letting his thoughts go away when he went to town was how he let down his outer barrier. He had built up a crust over the years. A crust created by the rejection from others, a crust created by shooting for the best, but always settling. A crust of hate, hate molded from love. Hate that was created purely from love, hate that flowed so thick it made the corrupt governments of the world look like a slow trickle of water compared to the ocean of hate that was his heart, his soul. How was he to love? He knew he could, but did he really want to? How could he love anyone if he could not love himself? He couldn’t. With that, he turned around. There was no point in going to town, he only went there to look for women, if there were no women to love then why look? He went home and dragged himself to his forest green recliner. Strategically sat in front of the air conditioner and the heater with full view of the television, and still allowed full view for any guests who happened to accompany him on the couch. Hell who was he kidding? He never had any company. He didn’t want any. He just wanted to feel sorry for himself, it sounded terrible for him to be that way. But it was really the only way left to be. He had ran out of options he had always been the type to pick himself back up and wipe the dust away, always. But he had wiped the dust away enough it was finally time to let it settle.
He reached behind the recliner and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He didn’t even go for a glass just drank it warm from the bottle. He drank. And he drank, until there was no more to drink. With one foot stretched and both hands on the recliner he pushed up, and felt like a bird in flight, then remembering he was just standing he stopped. And that’s where he stood, barely. With a staggered walk he went to get more alcohol then remembering certain instruments, he went behind the couch. It wasn’t alcohol, but it would do. He then sat down and threw his head back as he opened his lips he put the edge on his lips, and suddenly nothing mattered anymore, not the hate, not the love, nor the settling dust. All that mattered was the end. With a bright light, and a loud bang, and a quick pain, the gun fell out of his hand as his lower jaw hang aloof from the rest of his body allowing blood to flow with the beauty of a waterfall. His eye escaped the prison of its socket and kissed the top of his cheek. The exit had caused miscellaneous meat and red blood to spray upon the green chair, looking like a field of poppies in bloom. At last true love had finally found him, and set him free.

Contact me if you want me to write you a story email: charcordell@gmail.com

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