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 "Harvey" (my first short story)

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TMarsh
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TMarsh


Posts : 146
Join date : 2008-09-04
Age : 34
Location : Winfield, AL

"Harvey" (my first short story) Empty
PostSubject: "Harvey" (my first short story)   "Harvey" (my first short story) Icon_minitimeWed Feb 18, 2009 2:41 pm

So...I am currently writing a rather long short story that centers around a guy named Harvey. Here's the intro and the beginning of the meat of the story. Some of you have read it before, but feel free to throw down some criticism. bounce

Harvey

My name is Harvey and I have gone utterly insane. I know what they say about crazy people - crazy people don't believe that they are crazy, and that theory makes complete sense to me. You see, I don't think that I've gone bonkers. Sure, there have been times where I've questioned my grasp on reality, but I am, in every sense of the word, a very average boy. I know that it seems like I am stalling. I know that you don't want to hear all about the tedious details of my very average life, and I know that if I were reading this right now I would just want this uninteresting brat to shut the fuck up. Well here is the earth-shattering meteor of what once was my life - Two days ago my grandmother told me that I was going insane. Nothing too special, right? Your grandmother probably saw your lip ring, tattoo, and/or that ridiculous new haircut and called you crazy in that condescending grandmotherly voice, right? Well, here it is. Here is the goddamned meteor that killed the dinosaurs - My grandmother has been dead for four days. Well, she was two days dead at the time of the name calling, but who's counting? The point is that she was dead. No heartbeat. No pulse. She even smelled like a rotting corpse. The point is that when your dead grandmother calls you crazy, then you must be, right?

Chapter 1
"Jesus Christ, Harvey! You've been bugging about that all week! You can't expect me to believe your stupid little ghost story."

"C'mon, Beth, it wasn't some 'stupid little ghost story' to me! I just need someone to listen to me - to hear me out. How can you expect me not to talk about this?"

"Harvey...I don't think that I want to be with you any more."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

"Okay."

And that was that. My girlfriend of four months had just dumped me. I can't say that I blame her. I mean, I'm a raving lunatic, right? Nice going, Grandma. You just cost me the only semi-romantic relationship that I've ever had since kindergarten. Oh well, I didn't really see our relationship going anywhere. I wasn't looking forward to a big fiftieth wedding anniversary or anything. Hell, I wasn't even looking forward to a small one year anniversary, but what can I say? I'm going to be ultra-cliche here and tell you that the sex was great - the best I've ever had, but you've got to remember that I'm your average teenage boy. Lock me in a room with a bowl of jello and it would be heaven.
Who knows, maybe it is just a ghost story. People freak out all of the time, right? How do we explain alien abductions, haunted houses, and that whole Bloody Mary legend your pimply older brother told you when you were just five? People are just fucked up. I know this. I could write an entire book on the insanity of the human race, but you would just laugh it off and call me crazy. Now that's irony for you. The thing is, I know that it was real. I slapped myself three times across my own stupid face while my dead grandmother was spouting off nonsense at me just trying to snap out of the lucid dream, but nothing worked. I wasn't sleeping. I wasn't high. I wasn't suffering from some unknown disease that makes your dead grandmother come back to life. I guess what I'm trying to say is that it was without a doubt real. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I hope you believe me.
You see, you have got to believe me, because no one else will. Maybe, its just that no one can believe me. I get it. Here I am, a boy trying to explain to you that I can talk to dead people. Where's the straight jacket, right? If Farmer John has three apples and you take away two then how many apples do you have? You figure that I'm that kid that yells out "Fifteen fucking apples!", but that's not me. So when I say that I am going to tell you the story of how it all started, then you're going to listen, right? Well, here goes nothing....
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