This is the first short story that I created in almost four years. In that time, my poetry has being outgrowing the amount of my stories. The real-time tale that inspired the story is quite amusing. Whereas the moment after that event, I began writing the first two pages. This story is unlike any other that I wrote. Since age ten I’ve been reading classical literature and I’ve decided to put this in an elder form of English, and I’m only seventeen. This story is my groundbreaking one, a horror/suspense short story, unlike any of my mystery ones. But truly, if anyone thinks of it, all genres are interconnected into mystery. I hope the reader enjoys, for as all that I’ve shown are amazed at how well it is written. It is copyrighted so no stealing. Even though that it may look REALLY long, it is only fourteen pages long. I also did the cover art which took me just about three hours to entirely. Comments are greatly taken.
THE COUNTRY MANOR OF IOWA
By: Rob Tester
At once a point in time, I could sleep without nightmares, without screams, without the burden of those horrific nightmares. Memories that I remember all too well for I know of two stories, our story and their story. Perhaps they let me live so I may tell others what happened to them or perhaps I lived when no one else made it. I will not tell unless if you have a few notes to spare. Perhaps a hundred would do, cash or check. I’m faulty in memory if you give me lesser, the more you pay, the more details you get. It is that simple.
I’m not a gypsy, I’m honest. You may not expect it at a first glance but I’ve seen it as a young age. I saw it all at once to die of shock that same day. Same day I lost my mind from fright. Hallucinations from hellish dreams and hellish dreams that became hallucinations, which is what anyone would say. But I wasn’t hallucinating, nor was I dreaming, it was a very, very real.
There were so many of them, my god, I can’t even count. They wanted us to stay with them, forever. I was the only one who didn’t, thank god. If you pulled out your wallet, a note, then perhaps I’ll recall. Shake off the cobwebs of memories and time. What I tell you must pass along for I am not going to live very much longer and while I’m still alive. But I will not repeat myself twice to the same person.
* * *
Adolescent Stupidity, two simple words, yet their meaning got me into such trouble. Yet it was not with my parents, it wasn’t with the law, I knew well enough to keep my nose clean and my ears cleaned out. Shaven face and strict obedience was my life. I was young, I felt like I could do anything. In that laid the problem.
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