Tuesday, January 01, 2013

Good Buddy

I wrote this a few weeks ago and forgot to post it here. Only spent a few minutes on it. I like the basic idea of the story. I'm planning on expanding on it. We'll see.


Good Buddy

Being alone wasn’t the problem.

The loneliness was what kept him up at night. Most days no one even talked to him, just at him. His parents commanded him what to do. Teachers demanded homework assignments. classmates berated him. He had become a good listener. Talking would’ve been a privilege.

The volume was turned down low on the CB. He didn’t want to wake up his family. His brother was in the next room, parents were down the hall. His brother was always having nightmares and screaming in his sleep or walking around out in the halls throwing blankets and pillows. Locked doors keep most everything out, especially your brother.

He had no problem just listening. The chatter of crackling country accents coming across the airwaves were comforting to him late at night, especially when it felt like he was the only one alive. His brother and his friends would actually talk to the truck drivers traveling in and out of Kentucky on I-75. Mainly, they were just trying to piss them off.

A few of the other guys in the neighborhood had CB radios as well. Their parents would buy them anything to keep from hearing that they were bored. Over the summer they all made up handles to use while they harassed the drivers. This was their upper middle class training for sticking it to the blue collar working class. You’ve got to start them young.

He sat Indian style on his bed underneath the covers with a flashlight listening to the men talk in between static pauses. Not a whole lot was said. The talk was centered around bears. He had overheard his brother explaining it to one of his friends a few weeks earlier and found out that they were just trying not to get pulled over.

An hour went by of small talk and channel checks. His eyes were heavy and his body was now stretched out over the length of his bed. The flashlight’s beam had grown dim. He reached to turn the radio off, but heard a muffled voice came through the speaker that said his name.

Sitting up slowly in his bed he stared at his bedroom door. The voice had to be his brother having one of his night terrors or even his father coming to whip him for being awake or alive. He actually preferred it.

The voice crackled through the CB once more saying his name. No silly handle. No channel checks. Just his name. He was terrified as he sat in silence.

He hadn’t spoken to anyone in a long time.

No comments: