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Aaron M Hall

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Member Since: Jan, 2006

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The Notebook in the Basement
by Aaron M Hall
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Rated "G" by the Author.
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This is a short story. The first half is symbolic to the rest of the story, see if you can catch what i mean.... there may be some typos and some gramatical errors but all in all you should be able to grasp the story. Oh yeah, i feel it important to mention that this is NOT a true story


Dust was everywhere in the dark basement which held my notebook captive. The only light that shown in was from the door i left open on my way into the basement. Otherwise, it was pitch black. Ironically, the same light from the door, illuminated the area in which i would eventually find my notebook. It was right in between two large boxes full of knives, razors, and many other sharp objects used for cutting and tearing. As i tried to squeeze the notebook out, i placed my hand on one of the blades that was peircing through the side of one of the boxes. As it penetrated my hand, i could feel the cold blade rip through my skin. Then, a sharp stinging sensation, shortly followed by a excrutiating throbbing. I fought the urge to cry out "HELP!!!", because in knew that if my father found me snooping around in his basement, it wouldnt matter how much pain i was in, he would make it worse.
Then, i heard a voice. A voice colder than the very blade that had split my hand open. A voice that made my heart jump into my throwt and my stomach jump into my chest. It was my dad's voice.
"What are u doing in here boy?" His jaw was set and he spoke through his teeth.
"Dad..." I managed to get out, "i cut myself pretty bad."
His jaw immediatly unset when he saw my hand. He ran to my side and kneeled down saying, "we need to get you to a hospital!" Then he wrapped a paper towel around my hand. As he picked me up and helped me walk to the door (as if I had broken my leg) his jaw set once again, and he asked "were u lookin' for that stupid notebook?" I could tell he was gettin extremly angry. "I thought i told u to leave that alone! You ain't never gonna make it as a writer! So stop waistin' yours and my time! Now look what u did. I guess thats what u get."
And at that moment i felt the knife penetrate my hand all over again. Only this time, my father was the blade. I could feel the same sting and the same throbbing. His cold words cut me deeper than any knife could ever cut. the wound on my hand was just and abraision compared to the lacerations his words had caused. And my whole life, i had been afraid to cry out for help or stand up for myself. But at that moment, i managed to dig up enough courage to say "I'm tired, Dad."
"Of what?!" He snapped back, still speaking through his teeth.
"I'm tired of you." I was shocked at the words that were coming out of my mouth.
"Excuse me?" He said with his head slightly cocked to the right, dumbfounded at my new found courage.
"I'm tired of you always trying to bring me down lower than you are. Every time i find a loophole out of this monotonous cycle of depression that you've created for me, you take it away! I found an escape through writing, and as harmless as that is, you found a way to take that away, too! Why can't i have ambition, Dad? Why? Why should i follow in your footsteps when your leading me off a cliff? Huh?"
He was speechless, his whole demeanor changed. All of a sudden, he went from the man i feared the most, to a lost child who had found himself alone all over again. "Why dont u want me to better myself, Dad?" I had lowered my voice almost to a whisper. And with his head down and tears forming in his eyes, he replied
"I dont wanna lose you." In his voice I could hear that he was about to cry, but he wouldn't show it. He just hugged me and said "I dont wanna lose you..... I dont wanna be alone." Then he said something i never in my life thought i would hear him say. Using every ounce of strength he had in his body not to cry, he said "I'm sorry" And after that he let his arms fall from around me.



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Reviewed by Anthony Hall 1/29/2006
Flesh of my flesh
and rhyme of my rhyme
molded in the same mesh
we are two of a kind

My son, thrice welcome! I know that you will find sharing your tremendous 'voice' in this forum very inspirational, and those who listen to it will be enlightened, upbuilt and inspired as well. I am very proud of you.
All my love - your dad
Reviewed by Sherry Heim 1/29/2006
What a sad and honest view into a situation that befalls many. When we have nothing, we have nothing to lose and that is how the father's life probably was until his child came along. All of his insecurities were manifested into doing anything he could to hold on to the one thing in his life that he saw as good and the only person in the world whom he believed loved him unconditionally. He needed to look larger than life to his child, but because he felt that he had failed at nearly everything he had ever attempted, he needed to keep his child feeling small, incompetent, so he could be the towering hero that he had always wished to be. A most interesting and well written story, Aaron.
Take care,
Sherry
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