The Kid
An extremely short film I plan to work on is based off of this short story I wrote called
All he knew was that this was a very desperate situation. His forearms were tied to the arm of the chair and his calves were burning from the cords that tied his legs to the frame of it. Though it was wooden he had no leverage to break free. He could feel the tempting pliability of the phone cord he was tied with. Though the room was not hot, he was sweating profusely; out of fear, out of anger but mostly out of the strain against the binds. The window was draped with a thin white sheet and he knew that the traffic passing by was not concerned with the shadows casting against the glow of night. Nothing seemed tragic or severe about the appearance of the room’s emptiness or the stillness from the outside. His breath felt hot against his own face. His mouth was filled with a sock that his assailant had just removed from his own foot and taped his mouth shut with duct tape. It tasted like the metal of a drinking faucet. The fact that his blood would rush through his veins in surges beneath the pressure of the cords that were wrapped tightly around his limbs was making him feel sick. It made him feel even more disgusted about the salt he tasted. About the pain in his toes from lack of circulation. Then he heard himself whimper. And that was more than he could handle. It made him angry that it was working. That this sick bastard was tearing at his soul to the point where his eyes were watering. He was supposed to be a powerful man. He was supposed to be stronger than this. He began to yell. Muffled by the gag, it only made him yell louder and longer. He could feel his face turning red as the sound of his cry filled his own thoughts. He could feel the tears squeezing out down his cheeks. But nothing was changing and so he fell silent. He was a big man tied to a simple chair. A strong man constrained only by a simple knot. Tied there by a very small and skinny boy. Although he remembered bumping into him earlier that day, he could not figure out why this boy was doing all this. He couldn’t quite figure out how this kid was able to get him here and tie him up. He was trying to figure out what this kid wanted. But at the moment his mind was only focused on wanting to crush the bones in the kid’s chest until he coughed up blood. The boy was sitting with his legs crossed on the floor just a couple feet way his back to the tied man. There was a banker’s box in front of the kid filled with newspaper articles and old photographs. He glared at the box as he rifled through the papers. Not really seeming to read any of them. It seemed more like the boy was looking for an item buried under all the history. It reminded the boy of something similar to his own life. Was it the way that doctors always looked through his history in paper form to find the manifest of his problem? As if somehow it would become a solid material if their hands and eyes could just run over all the ink. And somehow the kid didn’t understand why they thought he had a problem. As far as he was concerned he was happy. He felt very relaxed all the time. He felt he had a very clear understanding of his life with no regard to anyone else. He didn’t seem to have a problem in his own mind. He never got scared when they screamed or when he saw the life leave their body. He was always very calm when they got scared just before they died. He smiled at the thought that people were concerned for him. He felt they were wrong about him. Everyone else needed a doctor to keep them from screaming. They needed help to keep them from going crazy while he was having fun with their lives. The kid figured that if he could enjoy the simple games he played with them then they should at least derive some joy from the attention he paid to their meaningless lives. The man yelled again with his pathetic muffled cries. The boy’s pupil shifted to the corners of his eyes as if he were far away in thought though he was more in this moment than anyone could ever be. The man saw the kid’s head shift over his shoulder and noticed that his hands had stopped shifting through the box. What the man did not know was that the kid had found the object he was searching for. As the man became very still and very silent his heart began to race. The sickening feeling of the gushing blood under the cords through his veins was back and he felt light headed suddenly. His vision was pulsing as if his eyes were threatening to close on him. The boy was slowly turning to him and the candles with their soft glow on the far side of the room were beginning to seem dim. The salt in his mouth soaking into his throat from the gag through the grooves of fabric as his saliva dripped through his face suddenly felt cold. As if there was a draft of wind, a breeze that made its way into his mouth as he breathed. The tape was coming undone from all the sweat and all the yelling. He had pushed hard enough against it that it slowly pulled away from his skin. The man struggled to stay awake but shutting his eyes made him less confused. So he did. He shut his eyes as the boy had turned to face him. The image was seared in his mind but only now with his eyes shut was he able to assess the last flash he had seen of the kid just before his eyelids shut. Like a Polaroid taken by his senses in a basement of his thoughts. There with his eyes shut and his tongue pushing against the sweaty sock to free it from his face. There in the darkness of his mind he realized what the kid was holding. Suddenly he could sense the boy moving around behind him. And now that he tried to open his eyes, they failed him. As if he had gone blind deliberately to avoid the final moments of his life. He struggled with all the energy he could gather and all that happened was his voice guttered through his throat and his breath flapped through his weak face like water boiling over. A cold sensation pressed on his skin and nerves as the boy ripped the flesh from bone along his spinal cord.
The man yelled out with every single fiber of his soul and the yell turned from the guttural rumbling of a man to the ethereal bellowing of planets breaking loose their insides into the emptiness of space. The scene was blurred and hollow in the empty spaces of the night. No one would ever find his body and his soul slowly lifted to the sky watching himself being mutilated by the kid.
Please comment freely and let me know what you think.
All he knew was that this was a very desperate situation. His forearms were tied to the arm of the chair and his calves were burning from the cords that tied his legs to the frame of it. Though it was wooden he had no leverage to break free. He could feel the tempting pliability of the phone cord he was tied with. Though the room was not hot, he was sweating profusely; out of fear, out of anger but mostly out of the strain against the binds. The window was draped with a thin white sheet and he knew that the traffic passing by was not concerned with the shadows casting against the glow of night. Nothing seemed tragic or severe about the appearance of the room’s emptiness or the stillness from the outside. His breath felt hot against his own face. His mouth was filled with a sock that his assailant had just removed from his own foot and taped his mouth shut with duct tape. It tasted like the metal of a drinking faucet. The fact that his blood would rush through his veins in surges beneath the pressure of the cords that were wrapped tightly around his limbs was making him feel sick. It made him feel even more disgusted about the salt he tasted. About the pain in his toes from lack of circulation. Then he heard himself whimper. And that was more than he could handle. It made him angry that it was working. That this sick bastard was tearing at his soul to the point where his eyes were watering. He was supposed to be a powerful man. He was supposed to be stronger than this. He began to yell. Muffled by the gag, it only made him yell louder and longer. He could feel his face turning red as the sound of his cry filled his own thoughts. He could feel the tears squeezing out down his cheeks. But nothing was changing and so he fell silent. He was a big man tied to a simple chair. A strong man constrained only by a simple knot. Tied there by a very small and skinny boy. Although he remembered bumping into him earlier that day, he could not figure out why this boy was doing all this. He couldn’t quite figure out how this kid was able to get him here and tie him up. He was trying to figure out what this kid wanted. But at the moment his mind was only focused on wanting to crush the bones in the kid’s chest until he coughed up blood. The boy was sitting with his legs crossed on the floor just a couple feet way his back to the tied man. There was a banker’s box in front of the kid filled with newspaper articles and old photographs. He glared at the box as he rifled through the papers. Not really seeming to read any of them. It seemed more like the boy was looking for an item buried under all the history. It reminded the boy of something similar to his own life. Was it the way that doctors always looked through his history in paper form to find the manifest of his problem? As if somehow it would become a solid material if their hands and eyes could just run over all the ink. And somehow the kid didn’t understand why they thought he had a problem. As far as he was concerned he was happy. He felt very relaxed all the time. He felt he had a very clear understanding of his life with no regard to anyone else. He didn’t seem to have a problem in his own mind. He never got scared when they screamed or when he saw the life leave their body. He was always very calm when they got scared just before they died. He smiled at the thought that people were concerned for him. He felt they were wrong about him. Everyone else needed a doctor to keep them from screaming. They needed help to keep them from going crazy while he was having fun with their lives. The kid figured that if he could enjoy the simple games he played with them then they should at least derive some joy from the attention he paid to their meaningless lives. The man yelled again with his pathetic muffled cries. The boy’s pupil shifted to the corners of his eyes as if he were far away in thought though he was more in this moment than anyone could ever be. The man saw the kid’s head shift over his shoulder and noticed that his hands had stopped shifting through the box. What the man did not know was that the kid had found the object he was searching for. As the man became very still and very silent his heart began to race. The sickening feeling of the gushing blood under the cords through his veins was back and he felt light headed suddenly. His vision was pulsing as if his eyes were threatening to close on him. The boy was slowly turning to him and the candles with their soft glow on the far side of the room were beginning to seem dim. The salt in his mouth soaking into his throat from the gag through the grooves of fabric as his saliva dripped through his face suddenly felt cold. As if there was a draft of wind, a breeze that made its way into his mouth as he breathed. The tape was coming undone from all the sweat and all the yelling. He had pushed hard enough against it that it slowly pulled away from his skin. The man struggled to stay awake but shutting his eyes made him less confused. So he did. He shut his eyes as the boy had turned to face him. The image was seared in his mind but only now with his eyes shut was he able to assess the last flash he had seen of the kid just before his eyelids shut. Like a Polaroid taken by his senses in a basement of his thoughts. There with his eyes shut and his tongue pushing against the sweaty sock to free it from his face. There in the darkness of his mind he realized what the kid was holding. Suddenly he could sense the boy moving around behind him. And now that he tried to open his eyes, they failed him. As if he had gone blind deliberately to avoid the final moments of his life. He struggled with all the energy he could gather and all that happened was his voice guttered through his throat and his breath flapped through his weak face like water boiling over. A cold sensation pressed on his skin and nerves as the boy ripped the flesh from bone along his spinal cord.
The man yelled out with every single fiber of his soul and the yell turned from the guttural rumbling of a man to the ethereal bellowing of planets breaking loose their insides into the emptiness of space. The scene was blurred and hollow in the empty spaces of the night. No one would ever find his body and his soul slowly lifted to the sky watching himself being mutilated by the kid.
Please comment freely and let me know what you think.