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fffcTitle: Memories can hurt
Fandom: Jeremiah
Characters: Kurdy Malloy, Mr. Smith
Rating: PG13, maybe R
Words: 671
He had hoped that he would never have to see this place again. Unbearable pictures were crossing his mind, memories he had refused to think about for fifteen years. Now everything was back, so lively as it just had happened a day before. Kurdy shuddered visibly when Smith opened the old door to the house; broken windows, flaked off paint; of course, the so familiar furniture was long gone, dragged off, burned.
And Kurdy knew, it was just his imagination that he could smell roasted potatoes and pulled pork. His dad's favorite food; he had always said, that no one could cook as good as his wife. Kurdy's mom.
They had been great parents, maybe a bit strict sometimes, a lot of rules; they had wanted him to have a better future one day. But Kurdy had loved them, like every ten-year-old boy loved his parents, he had also loved baseball and Huckleberry Finn, he went to school, and even if he was not a brilliant student, he had earned some prizes in reading contests. In the afternoon, after he had done his homework, and helped his mom with the dishes he used to hang around with his best friends, Jimmy and Elijah.
A perfect, happy life. Until this day, when something went terribly wrong in a secret military lab. His parents tried their best to protect him from the truth, but Kurdy was curious. He sneaked out of the house, to see and hear what was going on in the streets. The adults died, the children cried. Chaos ruled. Paralyzed he run back home, the only safe place he could think about.
It happened some days after the beginning, in the evening, when he was supposed to sleep. He could hear his mom's voice.
„Derek, please,“ she begged.
„Please.“
His dad was sobbing, maybe this was most shocking, his dad never cried, he was big and strong and always knew what to do. Kurdy pushed the door to the small kitchen open, only a small crack. His eyes fell on his father, a gun in his hands, aimed at his mother.
He felt the urge to cry but seemed to have lost his voice; pressed his hands over his mouth, and squeezed his eyes shut to escape this nightmare. Then the loud bang, smell of powder in the air, his mom slowly breaking down, blood running over her hair and face.
„Kurdy?“
Smith's voice tore him out of his dark thoughts.
„You okay?“
He kept quiet, felt not ready to talk about it. The shock, the panic he had felt back then seemed to catch up with him again. He couldn't say how much time had passed, until his father finally noticed him.
"Kurdy," he had whispered. "Kurdy..."
And he had turned around and run, ignoring his dad's voice, calling out for him. All he could think, was, that the man, he had always trusted blind, his father, had killed his mom. His dad, a murderer. His mom, gone forever.
"Kurdy!"
Shaking wildly he turned around.
„What are we doing here,“ he asked, his usually strong voice almost inaudibly.
„This house is more a ruin. No one is living here for quite a while already.“
„God has told me to bring you here,“ Smith answered.
„He says, it's about time.“
This again. Kurdy wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or burst into tears. This ridiculous bullshit again. But suddenly a thought crossed his mind and all the pieces fall into the right place. Yes, it was about time. Now, fifteen years later, he was able to face the truth about this horrible evening which had changed his life forever.
It hadn't been killing, it had been mercy. The end had been inevitable, all the adults died sooner or later. Sooner was a relief, later meant pain and torture for everyone.
To leave him behind alone hadn't been malevolent indifference but a last act of love. His parents had decided to go before it got even worse. Not for themselves, for him. The time of the adults was over; the future belonged to the children. And they wanted him to have the chance to be a part of it.
„Mom, Dad, I will always love you,“ Kurdy whispered, not trying to fight back his tears for longer.
THE END
Fandom: Jeremiah
Characters: Kurdy Malloy, Mr. Smith
Rating: PG13, maybe R
Words: 671
He had hoped that he would never have to see this place again. Unbearable pictures were crossing his mind, memories he had refused to think about for fifteen years. Now everything was back, so lively as it just had happened a day before. Kurdy shuddered visibly when Smith opened the old door to the house; broken windows, flaked off paint; of course, the so familiar furniture was long gone, dragged off, burned.
And Kurdy knew, it was just his imagination that he could smell roasted potatoes and pulled pork. His dad's favorite food; he had always said, that no one could cook as good as his wife. Kurdy's mom.
They had been great parents, maybe a bit strict sometimes, a lot of rules; they had wanted him to have a better future one day. But Kurdy had loved them, like every ten-year-old boy loved his parents, he had also loved baseball and Huckleberry Finn, he went to school, and even if he was not a brilliant student, he had earned some prizes in reading contests. In the afternoon, after he had done his homework, and helped his mom with the dishes he used to hang around with his best friends, Jimmy and Elijah.
A perfect, happy life. Until this day, when something went terribly wrong in a secret military lab. His parents tried their best to protect him from the truth, but Kurdy was curious. He sneaked out of the house, to see and hear what was going on in the streets. The adults died, the children cried. Chaos ruled. Paralyzed he run back home, the only safe place he could think about.
It happened some days after the beginning, in the evening, when he was supposed to sleep. He could hear his mom's voice.
„Derek, please,“ she begged.
„Please.“
His dad was sobbing, maybe this was most shocking, his dad never cried, he was big and strong and always knew what to do. Kurdy pushed the door to the small kitchen open, only a small crack. His eyes fell on his father, a gun in his hands, aimed at his mother.
He felt the urge to cry but seemed to have lost his voice; pressed his hands over his mouth, and squeezed his eyes shut to escape this nightmare. Then the loud bang, smell of powder in the air, his mom slowly breaking down, blood running over her hair and face.
„Kurdy?“
Smith's voice tore him out of his dark thoughts.
„You okay?“
He kept quiet, felt not ready to talk about it. The shock, the panic he had felt back then seemed to catch up with him again. He couldn't say how much time had passed, until his father finally noticed him.
"Kurdy," he had whispered. "Kurdy..."
And he had turned around and run, ignoring his dad's voice, calling out for him. All he could think, was, that the man, he had always trusted blind, his father, had killed his mom. His dad, a murderer. His mom, gone forever.
"Kurdy!"
Shaking wildly he turned around.
„What are we doing here,“ he asked, his usually strong voice almost inaudibly.
„This house is more a ruin. No one is living here for quite a while already.“
„God has told me to bring you here,“ Smith answered.
„He says, it's about time.“
This again. Kurdy wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or burst into tears. This ridiculous bullshit again. But suddenly a thought crossed his mind and all the pieces fall into the right place. Yes, it was about time. Now, fifteen years later, he was able to face the truth about this horrible evening which had changed his life forever.
It hadn't been killing, it had been mercy. The end had been inevitable, all the adults died sooner or later. Sooner was a relief, later meant pain and torture for everyone.
To leave him behind alone hadn't been malevolent indifference but a last act of love. His parents had decided to go before it got even worse. Not for themselves, for him. The time of the adults was over; the future belonged to the children. And they wanted him to have the chance to be a part of it.
„Mom, Dad, I will always love you,“ Kurdy whispered, not trying to fight back his tears for longer.
THE END
no subject
Date: 2018-05-06 07:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-05-07 05:27 pm (UTC)