The Journey: A novel by Kscott

The Journey
A novel by Kscott



Chapter 1: The Question revelead

Why? Such a simple question, yet so complex it had tormented him for ages trying to answer it. Now as he stood over their mangled bodies one thought persisted him, like a friend who just can’t take no for an answer, why? Why were they dead? That was obvious, he had rushed into their room, quickly wrapped their necks with a crude rope, and continued to pull until their faces turned a deep purple and their eyes bulged out of their sockets. So, maybe the question was why had he done such a despicable act? No, again the answer to this question was easy. He hadn’t killed them out of hate or lust, he killed them simply because Boss said so, and of course, Boss was always right. Rather, our young man wasn’t asking simple “why’s” that can be answered without any cohesive thought. What plagued him was the ultimate question, Why? What exactly was the application of the word why? Well, if he knew that, he would be one step closer to answering the alluding enigma, however he didn’t know that, he simply knew the word Why was pounding in his head without cease. This incident was a typical day for him. He received orders, proceeded to carry them out, then after it was all good and done Why popped up from the depths of his soul. Most importantly came the search. Every night when he was too tired to do anything and too awake to do nothing he casually recounted the events of his life, yet to no avail did such searches produce any viable results. On most occasions the confusion in his heart only grew and the Why became ever louder in his ears.

Searching always began with his childhood. Born sometime in the past, in a town without a name, our hero, we’ll call him Charles though Boss called him simply 19867213, lived a very merger existence. Life at this time can be embodied by the shack he lived in. Years of neglect left the shack in a rather dilapidated state. Walls were covered with dirt, with short breaks of an oddly colored mold. The carpet was layered in paint chips like ones yard is covered by snow on Christmas. On top of all of this, there was an overpowering stench of tobacco smoke, which is rather odd seeing as nobody in the house ever smoked. Ever since his birth in the hospital downtown Charles had shared his solitary existence only with his father. Sometimes neighbors would comment on how much he looked like his late mother, yet his father dismissed these as no more than fools trying to make ideal talk. Infact, in his father’s words Charles’s mother was nothing more than a cheap prostitute that had been in the business far longer than was good for her. Thanks to this Charles could only picture his mother as a women in long black boots, tight leather pants that reveled for too much for her figure, and bright red lipstick poorly applied. It is truly saddening that this terrible image was all young Charles had of his mother, yet amusingly this image brought him substantial joy, and provided a quick escape for moments when his father thought it was proper to test his new 2x4 by smashing it on his only son’s head. Truth be told, this wasn’t a singular incident. More depressing stories can be found in Charles’s past, especially the deeper one digs, however like Charles’s did on most occasions, we will skip this portion of his life. We will race ahead till things changed drastically.

Things changed when It happened. What was It? Nobody could really say, yet more importantly nobody really cared. The fact was It happened and everything changed completely. So rapid did It happen that not a single memory of it remained it Charles’s scattered mind. All he knew was before It he lived in a pitiful shack with his abusive father and after It he worked for Boss. Why did he work for Boss? That was painfully obvious to him. Boss was the boss, who else could he work for? After revealing all these accounts from Charles’s memory we can come to the same conclusion he did. The answer to Why was not in the past before It, or in the present after It. What he searched was in the brief time in which everything changed. He didn’t worry about what happened during It, he simply felt that the missing fragment of his life would provide an insight into the question that baffled him so much. But how could he recall things he had no relocation of? Another wasted night that yielded nothing more than a headache and an unexplained itch on his right elbow. Just as the nights before he would intend to scratch the elbow in hopes of relieving the pain, yet he always succumbed to sleep’s desires. Just as the curtains of his mind would close and transport him to the land of dreams one word always popped into his mind as to get the very last say, Why?

UP next: Chapter 2: A Dream and a Cup of Tea

*Yes this is a little odd, that was the intention, I hope it was intresting enough for you guys to want some more. As always if you enjoyed this post please hit the little reputation bar and leave a comment, it would be much apreciated if the story was a good read. If not please post feedback so I can improve upon my techniques. Cheers and thanks for reading .

Great read. It seems very 1984-esque to me. This Boss guy sounds exactly like Big Brother

Compelling. The chapters are too short