The Contradictite

[Author's Note: This is a strange story. I originally published it in my LiveJournal literary community, indiefiction. I was trying to present a sort of time loop, but it kind of comes of creepy if you read too much into it. It's presented here for completion's sake.] I'm here. I turn around suddenly, looking to see who said that. I see no one. Looking up, I see the illumination of a fading street lamp. In the distance, I hear a faint drip, drip of what I hope are just rain gutters, and no other "gutters," thank you very much. A shudder runs down my spine. I wonder who originated the voice. Shaken, I continue on my trek homeward. The next day, I'm walking down the very same street, and I accidentally bump into an attractive woman. We get to talking, and find out that we have a lot in common. We even lived on the same road. As the days went on, I saw her more and more, until I was sure that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. Somehow, ...

[Author's Note: This is a story I wrote in August of 2001 and published in my literary LiveJournal community, indiefiction. It addresses a lack of identity, and plays with the idea literally. All the same, I was a dumb kid when I wrote this.] "Who are you?" I looked up at the grimy man behind the bar. My hand was holding a pistol, shakily pointed at him. Quickly, my mind raced back as far as I could remember. No one had ever asked me that before. No one had ever cared enough who I was. Worse yet, no one had even told me the answer to that question. Then it hit me, I didn't know who I was. "I," I stammered, "I don't know." All 23 years of my life, no one had ever directly addressed me. No one had ever used my name in conversation. I had no identity. I guess I'm really no one. "I guess I'm really no one." The man just stared at me. "So, as I said earlier," pointing the gun at him with a bit more confi...

[Author's Note: This story was originally published on my LiveJournal literary blog, indiefiction in August of 2001. It addresses the nature of self-destructive friends.] I looked down on him. He was dangling off the side of a steep cliff. "Help," he pleaded. I leaned over closer to the edge so he could see my face better. "You got yourself there, you know. I wasn't the one who kept inching closer and closer to the edge. Remember: you removed me from your life. I'm surprised you're even listening to me now. To be totally honest, I never really liked you." I paused, for effect. He still clung. "C'mon, man, just help me out." "How do I know that you won't pull me down there with you? Why should I even bother helping you? You're self-destructive. It's time you learned your lesson. I won't teach you, though. You'll have to teach yourself." Though I didn't smoke, I lit one of his cigarettes and...

[Author's Note: This is another early story written by me. It was published originally in October of 2000 in Between The Lines Literary Magazine . It tells the story of a fish out of water, of the teenage angst of not fitting in: with your peers, your family, or even with yourself.] Hubert skipped a rock off the surface of the water. He looked disheveled and sad. He  knew that he had great power, but he did not have the power to turn back time. Life hadn't always been like this. In fact, life had never been like this. It all started last week. People made fun of him. He was different. He had out of style clothes, an out of style hair cut, and an even more out of style dialect. They called him names, they beat him up, they treated him poorly. He went home miserable. He went home sad. He went home crying. He got home. No one was around. His mother would probably be home from her job soon, and she would know that he had been crying. She would wonder why, and then tell hi...

[Authors Note: This is one of my earliest published pieces. It was originally published in August of 2000 in Between The Lines Literary Magazine , an online publication dedicated to literature and art written by high school students.] One day, while wasting a weekend doing pretty much nothing, I was looking for something simple to occupy myself with. I walked past the mirror, but I didn't walk past the mirror on the other side. I was just standing there, looking at myself walking by. I was laughing. I looked like an idiot too. I asked myself, "What are you laughing at?" I replied, "You! Look at you! You have all this time that could be used doing things! You could be drawing, working, writing, playing, talking to people, or any other moderately useful thing, and here you are, just wandering around aimlessly, trying to waste time!" I looked at myself oddly. "What are you talking about? Why is that funny?" I responded, looking myself straight i...