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iamspenagain · 01-27-2009, 08:41 AM

Haven't really written anything in years. I just finished this one up, and though I'll peruse it again tomorrow, I'm fairly happy with my initial results. The title, on the other hand, is currently rather wretched, and I'll probably change it sometime when it's not 5 in the morning. Read it anyway.

Sixteen Minutes

It was midnight. Adam’s 20th birthday had arrived. Celebrations, however, would have to wait until after he had completed the night’s duties. Still, the bottle of wine he removed from its spot between the small puddle of blood and the overturned table would likely come in handy in a couple hours. He glanced at the label before discretely placing it in his rucksack. A riesling. A good German wine. The previous owners, he decided, wouldn’t have much use for it anymore. Not where they were going. He slung is rifle around his shoulder and followed the rest of his compatriots out of the humble abode and into the streets, where he was greeted by shouts and cheers.

One of the men Adam’s regiment had been sent to deal with, a short, pig-faced bastard wearing a tattered brown jacket and flannel trousers, had escaped a neighboring house. A moment later, it must have been only a fraction of a second, one of Adam’s compatriots stormed out after him, pistol in hand, and tackled the escapee rather fiercely, striking the back of his head with the butt of his weapon. Adam recognized the other soldier as Heinrich, one of the few people from his youth he ever saw anymore. That he had gained enough respect to be given a leadership role didn’t surprise Adam much; his taking charge of the situation now was not a unique occurrence.

The pig-faced man’s body crumpled as he fell unconscious. Cheers erupted from the soldiers patrolling the street. “Hit him again, Heinrich!” someone yelled. Without hesitation, Heinrich complied, beating the back of the man’s head till his hair was matted with blood.

Adam looked at his watch. 12:04. Heinrich must have pummeled that bastard for a full three! The assailant rose to his feet and dusted off his trousers, spitting on the bloodied lump lying in the reddened dirt, which, by this time, was surely a corpse. Heinrich bent down to retrieve his helmet, which had fallen to the ground in the excitement. He brushed off the lightening bolts displayed on the front and put it on, laughing and bragging about his latest accomplishment.

Such a display of superiority reassured Adam of a great many things, not the least of which was the purpose of this particular expedition. He smiled, shouting, “Way to show him who’s boss, Heinrich!” He’d be sure to allow Heinrich an extra swig from the bottle when they returned to camp.

***

It was midnight. Adam’s 18th birthday had arrived. Though his party would have to wait until tomorrow, Adam had stayed up in his bedroom all night, waiting for this moment. He enjoyed birthdays. Another year of life. “And what a beautiful life it is!” he thought to himself. Everything about it was simply wonderful; his family, his friends, his small flat in the city. Even school, which Adam had never excelled at, was going quite well for him.

He had always been quite the optimist. He had never had an ounce of ill will towards any of his schoolmates, he found hope in even the darkest of situations, and, even when he was a child, he was the last boy to scurry inside when the weather turned foul. He deserved this smallest of celebrations before the party in the morning. He relished the opportunity to sit in the privacy of his own bedroom and reflect upon his past and, more enthusiastically, his bright future.

He popped the cork of the bottle of riesling he bought earlier that day and poured himself a glass. Just one glass tonight. He’d share the rest with friends tomorrow, but this was his moment and his alone. He brought the glass to his mouth, allowing the aromatic fragrances of the beverage to caress first his mouth, then his eager nostrils. Finally, he allowed the sweet, dry liquid to grace his lips.

Before he could take a sip, however, he heard a loud knock at the front door. “Bloody hell,” he muttered as he glanced at his watch. 12:01. Another knock, but this one was more frantic than the last. He quickly left his seat and went to the door in time to see his mother poke her head from her bedroom door.

“Who could that possibly be this late at night?” his mother fumed as the knocking started yet again.

“Don’t worry, mother, I’ll handle it. Go back to sleep.” Adam opened the door quickly and, though he felt only a mild annoyance, he allowed his face to feign a look of anger, a skill he was sure he had gotten from his father, God rest his soul. “What the hell is your problem, knocking at this -”

Despite the look of absolute terror on his face, Adam recognized the man at the door. “Christoph?” he asked, puzzled.

“Adam, Adam you’ve got to help me!” He rushed in before Adam could invite him and slammed the door. “Please, Adam. Hide me! Tell them I’m not here!”

“Christoph, who? Tell who you’re not here?”

“Haven’t you heard? Don’t you read the papers? Please, they broke into my father’s shop, they broke into our home! My parents, my sister, I think they’re...oh, God, Adam, please help!” Christoph’s contorted facial expressions had grown only more fiercely terrified since he had entered. He started frantically toward Adam’s bedroom, but Adam grabbed his arm.

“Christoph, we’ve not talked in nearly two years. Two years! You want my help, I don’t even know what’s going on, and we don’t even know each other anymore. Please, Christoph, I think you should leave.”

“Don’t you understand! They’re coming after me, they’re coming after all of us! They burned down our -.” He broke free and, rather than finishing his sentence, jumped into Adam’s room. “Look, hide me under your bed, something. When they come asking for me, tell them I’m not here! Tell them...tell them something! Anything! Anything, Adam!”

Adam followed Christoph into the small bedroom, but this time his angered expression was hardly a fake. “We are no longer friends, and we’ve not been friends for a very long time. Get out of my home, now, before I call the police.” He once again grabbed his unwelcome guest’s arm, only this time forcefully enough to mix a bit of pain into Christoph’s terrified expression. With his free hand, Christoph shoved back at Adam, yelling, “I used to able to trust you! Don’t you understand what’s happening?”

“I said get out!” Adam balled his fist and threw a mighty punch at Christoph, hitting him squarely in the nose with a force so powerful, he fell back into the end table on which the freshly-opened bottle of riesling sat. Table, bottle, and Christoph toppled to the floor, and both men stared angrily at each other for what seemed an eternity. Christoph’s eyes were so familiar to Adam, but he had never seen them filled with such hatred and rage. But there was something else there, a sense of disappointment that had never been directed at Adam before. A brief pang of guilt struck at Adam’s heart, though he was unsure why; Christoph was one of them. After an eternity of uneasy silence, Adam finally muttered, “Leave, Christoph. I can’t help you.”

Christoph rose to his feet, watching Adam over his shoulder as he shuffled first out of the bedroom, then to the front door of the flat, ignoring the steady stream of blood spewing from his nose. Adam shut the door behind him and, upon turning around, noticed his mother watching him, still in her bright white nightgown. “You did the right thing, Adam,” she said quietly. “The right thing. Now go to bed, please.”

Adam looked at his watch. 12:04. That fiasco had lasted only three minutes, but it had ruined his special moment. He walked into his room and, sighing, removed the bottle of wine from its spot between the small pool of blood and the overturned table.

***

(cont.)

01-27-2009, 08:41 AM	#1 (permalink)
iamspenagain Cymro's Bitch Join Date: Dec 1969 Location: The Nast 'Nati, Ohio Posts: 462	Wrote a story. Haven't really written anything in years. I just finished this one up, and though I'll peruse it again tomorrow, I'm fairly happy with my initial results. The title, on the other hand, is currently rather wretched, and I'll probably change it sometime when it's not 5 in the morning. Read it anyway. Sixteen Minutes It was midnight. Adam’s 20th birthday had arrived. Celebrations, however, would have to wait until after he had completed the night’s duties. Still, the bottle of wine he removed from its spot between the small puddle of blood and the overturned table would likely come in handy in a couple hours. He glanced at the label before discretely placing it in his rucksack. A riesling. A good German wine. The previous owners, he decided, wouldn’t have much use for it anymore. Not where they were going. He slung is rifle around his shoulder and followed the rest of his compatriots out of the humble abode and into the streets, where he was greeted by shouts and cheers. One of the men Adam’s regiment had been sent to deal with, a short, pig-faced bastard wearing a tattered brown jacket and flannel trousers, had escaped a neighboring house. A moment later, it must have been only a fraction of a second, one of Adam’s compatriots stormed out after him, pistol in hand, and tackled the escapee rather fiercely, striking the back of his head with the butt of his weapon. Adam recognized the other soldier as Heinrich, one of the few people from his youth he ever saw anymore. That he had gained enough respect to be given a leadership role didn’t surprise Adam much; his taking charge of the situation now was not a unique occurrence. The pig-faced man’s body crumpled as he fell unconscious. Cheers erupted from the soldiers patrolling the street. “Hit him again, Heinrich!” someone yelled. Without hesitation, Heinrich complied, beating the back of the man’s head till his hair was matted with blood. Adam looked at his watch. 12:04. Heinrich must have pummeled that bastard for a full three! The assailant rose to his feet and dusted off his trousers, spitting on the bloodied lump lying in the reddened dirt, which, by this time, was surely a corpse. Heinrich bent down to retrieve his helmet, which had fallen to the ground in the excitement. He brushed off the lightening bolts displayed on the front and put it on, laughing and bragging about his latest accomplishment. Such a display of superiority reassured Adam of a great many things, not the least of which was the purpose of this particular expedition. He smiled, shouting, “Way to show him who’s boss, Heinrich!” He’d be sure to allow Heinrich an extra swig from the bottle when they returned to camp. * It was midnight. Adam’s 18th birthday had arrived. Though his party would have to wait until tomorrow, Adam had stayed up in his bedroom all night, waiting for this moment. He enjoyed birthdays. Another year of life. “And what a beautiful life it is!” he thought to himself. Everything about it was simply wonderful; his family, his friends, his small flat in the city. Even school, which Adam had never excelled at, was going quite well for him. He had always been quite the optimist. He had never had an ounce of ill will towards any of his schoolmates, he found hope in even the darkest of situations, and, even when he was a child, he was the last boy to scurry inside when the weather turned foul. He deserved this smallest of celebrations before the party in the morning. He relished the opportunity to sit in the privacy of his own bedroom and reflect upon his past and, more enthusiastically, his bright future. He popped the cork of the bottle of riesling he bought earlier that day and poured himself a glass. Just one glass tonight. He’d share the rest with friends tomorrow, but this was his moment and his alone. He brought the glass to his mouth, allowing the aromatic fragrances of the beverage to caress first his mouth, then his eager nostrils. Finally, he allowed the sweet, dry liquid to grace his lips. Before he could take a sip, however, he heard a loud knock at the front door. “Bloody hell,” he muttered as he glanced at his watch. 12:01. Another knock, but this one was more frantic than the last. He quickly left his seat and went to the door in time to see his mother poke her head from her bedroom door. “Who could that possibly be this late at night?” his mother fumed as the knocking started yet again. “Don’t worry, mother, I’ll handle it. Go back to sleep.” Adam opened the door quickly and, though he felt only a mild annoyance, he allowed his face to feign a look of anger, a skill he was sure he had gotten from his father, God rest his soul. “What the hell is your problem, knocking at this -” Despite the look of absolute terror on his face, Adam recognized the man at the door. “Christoph?” he asked, puzzled. “Adam, Adam you’ve got to help me!” He rushed in before Adam could invite him and slammed the door. “Please, Adam. Hide me! Tell them I’m not here!” “Christoph, who? Tell who you’re not here?” “Haven’t you heard? Don’t you read the papers? Please, they broke into my father’s shop, they broke into our home! My parents, my sister, I think they’re...oh, God, Adam, please help!” Christoph’s contorted facial expressions had grown only more fiercely terrified since he had entered. He started frantically toward Adam’s bedroom, but Adam grabbed his arm. “Christoph, we’ve not talked in nearly two years. Two years! You want my help, I don’t even know what’s going on, and we don’t even know each other anymore. Please, Christoph, I think you should leave.” “Don’t you understand! They’re coming after me, they’re coming after all of us! They burned down our -.” He broke free and, rather than finishing his sentence, jumped into Adam’s room. “Look, hide me under your bed, something. When they come asking for me, tell them I’m not here! Tell them...tell them something! Anything! Anything, Adam!” Adam followed Christoph into the small bedroom, but this time his angered expression was hardly a fake. “We are no longer friends, and we’ve not been friends for a very long time. Get out of my home, now, before I call the police.” He once again grabbed his unwelcome guest’s arm, only this time forcefully enough to mix a bit of pain into Christoph’s terrified expression. With his free hand, Christoph shoved back at Adam, yelling, “I used to able to trust you! Don’t you understand what’s happening?” “I said get out!” Adam balled his fist and threw a mighty punch at Christoph, hitting him squarely in the nose with a force so powerful, he fell back into the end table on which the freshly-opened bottle of riesling sat. Table, bottle, and Christoph toppled to the floor, and both men stared angrily at each other for what seemed an eternity. Christoph’s eyes were so familiar to Adam, but he had never seen them filled with such hatred and rage. But there was something else there, a sense of disappointment that had never been directed at Adam before. A brief pang of guilt struck at Adam’s heart, though he was unsure why; Christoph was one of them. After an eternity of uneasy silence, Adam finally muttered, “Leave, Christoph. I can’t help you.” Christoph rose to his feet, watching Adam over his shoulder as he shuffled first out of the bedroom, then to the front door of the flat, ignoring the steady stream of blood spewing from his nose. Adam shut the door behind him and, upon turning around, noticed his mother watching him, still in her bright white nightgown. “You did the right thing, Adam,” she said quietly. “The right thing. Now go to bed, please.” Adam looked at his watch. 12:04. That fiasco had lasted only three minutes, but it had ruined his special moment. He walked into his room and, sighing, removed the bottle of wine from its spot between the small pool of blood and the overturned table. * (cont.) __________________ If I could, I would marry a Magnum bar.