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"Gavin"

by Salted_Apples

Salted_Apples a little short story that I made up after I got home from school one day.

wasn't really a long term endeavor, just something I wrote up in about 30 - 45 minutes to flex the writing muscles.

I may expand on the concept later, but currently have no plans for it.

critique of any kind is appreciated.

(also, I'm not dead completely, just taking a break from most RP for more personal stuff. i had free time and motivation to create this, and so I did. I'll still probably be uploading written works, though.)

P.S: lyrics of the song are from "a Car, a Torch, a Death". It's a really good song, and you should listen to it.
“The air begins to feel, a little thin.”

“As I start the car, and then…”


“I begin.”

The sound of the music unsteadily seeps through the battered radio. The volume is inconsistent, constantly racing back and forth in a frenzy that morphs the previously mellowing song into an unsettling loop of disarray. His hands shook unceremoniously on the steering wheel as he scanned the road instinctively.

“To add the miles, piled up, behind me.”

“I barely feel a smile, deep inside me.”


He looked into the rear view mirror, into the back of the car. It wasn’t there. Good. He diverted his eyes back towards the pitch black scenery, the only illumination provided being the dim headlights. The vehicle sped past a sign signifying the maximum speed for that particular road. Rust struck the words like a dagger, only serving as a reminder that none had abided by the proposed rules for a long time.

"And I begin to envy the headlights driving South.”

“I want to crack the door so I can just fall out.”

“But then I rememb -“


The static laced melody abruptly ceased. An ensuing silence quickly overtook the car, as the man flinched in surprise. He slammed his hand against the radio console, desperately trying to reactivate the speaker. The sensation of oncoming tears pricked menacingly at his eye sockets.

A warm, sickly wave of breath began to caress the throat of the man. He winced, shuddering in the cold night air.

“Gavin. . . Gavin. . . Gavin. . .”

Tearful sensations pounded against his cheeks. The chanting of his name continued, the voice mangled and confused, as it was punctuated by an undertone of gurgling. What was previously quiet whispering morphed into amalgamated, drawn out groaning of pain.

“Gavin, Gaaavinnn…”

A fit of wheezing was injected into the voice, as a congregation of spit and mucus now accompanied the warm breath bleating against his neck. Whatever mental resolve that had been holding back tears now broke, an emotional waterfall pouring from his eyes. The man fought to prevent total panic, only wordless grunts of terror emanating from his chest. He slammed his knee, and most of his body weight against the dash of the car, rattling the technology present there.

“- er when you packed my car.”


“You reached in the back, and buckled up your heart.”

The music returned to life, inconsistently streaking rhythm throughout the interior of the automobile. A shuddering exclamation of relief was released from the lungs of the man, as the disturbing breath creeping down his spine retracted - the other mucus and fluids that had been applied to his flesh simply evaporating.

The overall appearance of the outside world stayed the same - dark, incoherent, and bland.

A sudden BANG! Demolished the once quiet atmosphere. The tires on the car suddenly stopped their movement, as the vehicle slowed to a halt. He panicked, looking around - but nothing was to be seen. The headlight had completely died, and soon the engine would too.

The sound of the music grew fainter.

“For me, to drive away, with…”

“I began, to understand, why God, died.”


He grabbed the volume crank, turning it to max. A negligible impact was made to the general quality of the sound, as the splintered melody died away.

“The demons sat there, waiting on her porch…”

“It was a little dark so he held a makeshift, torch…”










Silence.





“Gaaavin…”
Mockingchu and T.C. like this.
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