Short Story Meme
Oct. 30th, 2005 10:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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cholten99's short story meme, here is my effort. I have to credit cholten99 with the inspiration, since this came directly from a conversation we had the other day. A disclaimer is necessary in case certain people happen to read this - none of this is based on real thoughts or desires! :o)
Oedipus Unleashed
They fuck you up, your mum and dad,
They may not mean to, but they do.
Philip Larkin
Ed watched his targets from behind a pillar. The man and woman were sitting together at a table in a crowded restaurant, evidently enjoying what would be their last meal. Ed took a moment to look at them, sitting there, oblivious to his intentions, just as they had always been oblivious to his needs. The man was laughing, the smug, self-satisfied smile on his face causing Ed’s fingers to tighten unconsciously on the barrel of the gun he held beneath his coat. That smile had never been far away, brought to bear as a hollow attempt to show attendance to what Ed might be saying, feigning interest while in fact its owner was only ever thinking about himself.
The woman was no better. Her innocent, well-intentioned exterior hid a cruel and bitter heart, one that could stab and maim with a simple, honey-coated sentence. She would claim to be horrified if told what effect her words had, but Ed knew that secretly she planned every wound, crafting her thoughts to inflict the most damage possible.
There they were, the two people who had hurt Ed most in the world. Just looking at them brought back the memories of a thousand broken promises, an endless litany of small injuries that had slowly built up to leave him broken and bleeding at their hands. But no more. This was the day that Ed would free himself from the pain. This was the day that Ed would kill his parents.
There were people all around, but it didn’t matter. Nobody would stop Ed, and there would be no recriminations afterwards. Patricide and matricide had been legalised some years before, when the government decided that allowing a person to kill their parents would eradicate a large proportion of the anger-induced violence in society. Research showed that most emotional problems stemmed from pent-up resentment against parents, so a law was passed, giving each person the right to murder their parents once they reached the age of twenty-one, as long as they did it themselves and nobody else was hurt in the process.
Ed knew several people who had done it already, and the way they spoke of the experience – the blessed release, the sense of ultimate independence and long-awaited freedom – well, apparently you couldn’t imagine it until you’d done it for yourself. Now was his chance to find out.
He stepped out from behind the pillar, walked right up to the table and pulled his gun out from beneath his coat. His mother gasped, his father half rose from his seat but sat down again as the barrel of the gun was trained on his face.
“Son,” his father said, his voice trembling, “can’t we talk about this?”
“No,” Ed replied firmly. “I don’t want to hear any more of your talk. You know why I’m here, and there’s nothing left to say.”
With that, he pulled the trigger, watching with satisfaction as the bullet passed through his father’s brain and blew the back of his head off. His father slumped onto the table. His mother screamed, but the noise was abruptly cut off by the sound of the gun firing again, and she joined her husband, face first on the tablecloth.
Ed slipped the gun back underneath his coat, spun on his heel and strode out of the restaurant, feeling lighter and happier than he could ever remember.
As he left, a man on a nearby table turned to his wife and said, “Now, aren’t you glad we never had children?”
THE END
cholten99's short story meme, here is my effort. I have to credit cholten99 with the inspiration, since this came directly from a conversation we had the other day. A disclaimer is necessary in case certain people happen to read this - none of this is based on real thoughts or desires! :o)They fuck you up, your mum and dad,
They may not mean to, but they do.
Philip Larkin
Ed watched his targets from behind a pillar. The man and woman were sitting together at a table in a crowded restaurant, evidently enjoying what would be their last meal. Ed took a moment to look at them, sitting there, oblivious to his intentions, just as they had always been oblivious to his needs. The man was laughing, the smug, self-satisfied smile on his face causing Ed’s fingers to tighten unconsciously on the barrel of the gun he held beneath his coat. That smile had never been far away, brought to bear as a hollow attempt to show attendance to what Ed might be saying, feigning interest while in fact its owner was only ever thinking about himself.
The woman was no better. Her innocent, well-intentioned exterior hid a cruel and bitter heart, one that could stab and maim with a simple, honey-coated sentence. She would claim to be horrified if told what effect her words had, but Ed knew that secretly she planned every wound, crafting her thoughts to inflict the most damage possible.
There they were, the two people who had hurt Ed most in the world. Just looking at them brought back the memories of a thousand broken promises, an endless litany of small injuries that had slowly built up to leave him broken and bleeding at their hands. But no more. This was the day that Ed would free himself from the pain. This was the day that Ed would kill his parents.
There were people all around, but it didn’t matter. Nobody would stop Ed, and there would be no recriminations afterwards. Patricide and matricide had been legalised some years before, when the government decided that allowing a person to kill their parents would eradicate a large proportion of the anger-induced violence in society. Research showed that most emotional problems stemmed from pent-up resentment against parents, so a law was passed, giving each person the right to murder their parents once they reached the age of twenty-one, as long as they did it themselves and nobody else was hurt in the process.
Ed knew several people who had done it already, and the way they spoke of the experience – the blessed release, the sense of ultimate independence and long-awaited freedom – well, apparently you couldn’t imagine it until you’d done it for yourself. Now was his chance to find out.
He stepped out from behind the pillar, walked right up to the table and pulled his gun out from beneath his coat. His mother gasped, his father half rose from his seat but sat down again as the barrel of the gun was trained on his face.
“Son,” his father said, his voice trembling, “can’t we talk about this?”
“No,” Ed replied firmly. “I don’t want to hear any more of your talk. You know why I’m here, and there’s nothing left to say.”
With that, he pulled the trigger, watching with satisfaction as the bullet passed through his father’s brain and blew the back of his head off. His father slumped onto the table. His mother screamed, but the noise was abruptly cut off by the sound of the gun firing again, and she joined her husband, face first on the tablecloth.
Ed slipped the gun back underneath his coat, spun on his heel and strode out of the restaurant, feeling lighter and happier than he could ever remember.
As he left, a man on a nearby table turned to his wife and said, “Now, aren’t you glad we never had children?”
THE END
