Stories Better Kept Untold

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Most stories are the kind you hear from people, or see on television or in the movies. stories of good versus evil, of damsels in distress, stories of heroic adventure, or stories that inspire humor. These are not those stories, these are the stories no one ever talks about. They are the kind of story a man takes with him to his grave. The stories of love gone wrong. These are the stories better left untold...

-1 Free Burden Haunting
Dear Mom and Dad,
I'm sorry about running off, I felt like I had to get away from the environment I was living in. I a humble place to stay, and I am taking my meds regularly. Its long been time for me to move out and make a life for myself. I took my car across country with some money I had saved up from previous jobs. I landed a position at a mental health clinic. I started doing odds and ends, and the nurses there helped me get on Federal assistance programs. They gave me a (very) part time position assisting, doing patients laundry and cleaning up tables before and after meals. Who would have thought a libertarian like myself would be on foodstamps? Oh well, Life is full of ironies.
Love you Mom and Dad,
-Blake

And you haven't gotten any kind of contact information? He never mentioned where he was going.

We didn't even know he was planning on leaving, he just disappeared one day, we've gotten these letters sporadically every few weeks or months. He never mentions where he is. We got a private detective to track him down. He said he was alive and well.

We believe the detective mislead you, he uncovered the truth about your son but decided to respect his wishes over yours, he had kept the fate of your son a secret until he told his girlfriend the other night,

Why are you crying, that's good news, right?

No I'm afraid it's not. We believe your son is dead.

When did this happen?
Your detective tracked down the location of Blake's car and came across his body a few months ago but his remains have been there for over four years.

But we have letters! You must be mistaken, he wrote us just last week.

He wrote those before his death, we've tracked the letters to an automated online mailing system, we have all subsequent letters. He'd written over a hundred letters before his death all detailing a fictional somber life. They're scheduled to be mailed to you over the next 22 years. We have them here in case you want to take a look. We recognize you may feel uncomfortable reading these and our department psychologist recommended we not make these available to you given how sensitive this material is.

Why would he go through all the trouble of doing this? Why would he not just kill himself like anyone else?

He left a note by his body which might give you some closure.

To whomever has the misfortune of crossing this path.

I hope my remains didn't disturb you. It is my dying wish remain here in peace as long as possible. I assure you my death was a suicide and there is very little mystery to uncover. I wish for my body to remain here. I hope you can respect my wishes. Please do not attempt to uncover my identity, I went through great lengths to keep it a secret.

To further discourage you I want to tell you my purpose for doing this. I was diagnosed with schizophrenia, every day is a struggle for me and I don't want to burden anyone, especially my family members, I realized that the news of my suicide would also burden them, so they must not know.

An automated lettering device is sending my family messages about the fictious life I would be living, in order to give them hope about my life. If they ever find out what has become of me, I fear it would be a revelation too devastating to ever recover from. Please respect my wishes.

Stories Better Kept Untold Chapter 2

There is a secret society of authors who believe that our stories come into being in some far off but connected universe to our own, and that our characters have a say in our life story. So it is always wise for my own benefit to write stories that have happy endings, so that the characters you write don't write of you in spite. In that respect this story is unwise.

“A Broken Girl's Love”

Normally this guy keeps to himself, but I suppose tonight he's had too much to drink, Stacy always thought he was a cute guy but when she started hitting on him, he flipped out or something. Probably been drinking Tequilla.

Hey kid, its Trevor right? what's the matter? That was a beautiful girl, you gay or something? What's the matter?

No I vowed never to tell.

It's okay, you can tell me, you'll feel better.

I feel like I can never love again, and every time a girl does something like that it makes me mad, like she's twisting the knife or dangling something in front of me I can never have.

What? What is she dangling?

Love.

You're too young to be hurt like this, what happened to make you say that?

My first time, my only time was with a girl named Jennifer.

She hurt you?

In ways you could never understand.

I've been around I gone through more than you might think.

I was sixteen, I had just left a party and I decided to walk home, I was walking by a neighborhood I had never been to before...This is a bad idea, you don't need to hear this.

You are right I don't. You need to tell it, so you can move on. I'm here to help.

Alright. So I see this girl, she was good friends with me, though I never went to her house, I was too shy to ask for her number. She'd been dating this other guy, and as*hole by the name of Jim Spencer, a tall guy on the Junior Varsity crew team.

He had been dating Jennifer for a long time, over a year and half. And she loved him even though he didn't seem to care for her much. So I meet Jennifer, and I hadn't seen her for 3 months, its like one day she stopped showing up to school. I thought she moved away on short notice, her parents work as these traveling doctors called “Doctors Without Borders” or something and they leave her by herself. She's a good girl and she knows how to take care of herself. When I saw her standing outside of her home, she didn't seem herself. Or at least the way I remembered her.

Not herself? What makes you say that?

She was outside her home smoking a cigarette, which was illegal at her age and highly unlike her, she was healthy and a good girl, but something changed in her.

We got to talking outside her house and she invited me in. I should have suspected something wrong. With the mess and all the empty liquor bottles. She was talking about a tattoo she was thinking of getting and a bunch of piercings she wanted done, and she was talking about how she found some of her parents money how she figured out the combination to a safe in her parents closet.

She invited me upstairs and she went to the bathroom, she was there for a while and I heard noises like rattling, and sniffling, I suspected she was crying, and when she finally emerged from the bathroom, it looked like she'd been balling her eyes out in there. She came out of the bathroom wearing only a long sleeve pink and white t-shirt.

She seduced me, and we made love. We did it slow, a good amount of time passed and I noticed her lips were getting blue and she started feeling cold, but I didn't know, so I kept going, I closed my eyes, I figured she took some ecstasy or something.
Then she started shaking, convulsing and that's when I stopped, I tried to snap her out of it, I grabbed her by the wrist, and that's when I noticed the cut marks. She had carved “slut” 'whore” into her arm,
I went to the bathroom and came across empty lines of pill bottles on the bathroom counter, Too many to count, and then I saw something else.

Oh my god...What did you see?

There was something in the toilet, she had a miscarriage I tried to flush it down the toilet but it was too large. Jim had broken up with her and he didn't know she was pregnant. She was all alone in the house.

I found her car keys and drove to the hospital even though I didn't have a license yet, and a few hours later they pronounced her dead. And I just ran away, I didn't answer any of their questions. I was a coward.

"I never knew my real biological father, and I don't remember the person who was supposed to take care of me. As the story goes my mother cheated on my father and became pregnant. My father he worked at a tattoo parlor and suspected that I wasn't his. When my mother gave birth, she died due to injuries, bloodloss of her womb. My father hated me from the moment I was born, I wonder why he didn't smother me out of existence. He did a DNA test that proved I wasn't his. First he took to drinking, then he tattooed the number 666 on the back of my head and left me in a basket by a local church when I was not more than 7 months old."

The parents just made up that story to form a charity in their fake son's honor, the girl never existed, the boy made the whole story up in order to make people feel sorry for him and get free drinks for life at the bar, and the devil guy, he made up that story to get chicks he just tattooed 666 on the back of his head because he thought it was badass or something.