Short Stories | Brayn Noise

Short Stories | Brayn Noise

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brayn noise

An Unfiltered Mind

SHORT STORIES

My Texas

Gone not Forgotten

One Last Time, One More Time

In and out of consiousness I would drift. My eyes rolling down from behind my head allowing me to look up and wonder what it would be like to let myself go. The darkness, the silence, the nothingness became so very comforting to me. I wanted to weep but couldn't find the tears. You see, when one is on a self destructive path, there is a level acceptance that accompanies it. I understood that this was inevitable. I knew for a long time I would one day be here. I knew I would one day self destruct. No excuses, no tears, this was all of my choosing.

"Hello." She said in her broken English. The mist from her breathe quickly fading in the cold Chicago air.

"Hello" he said, briefly glancing up, then back down at his clip board again.

"You work on building?" She replied again, her polish accent strong through her aged lips. "You measure?" She asked, bringing her worn sweater over her wrinkled neck.

"Yes, ma'am, I'm a surveyor, I'm taking measurements of the building for the sale. Do you live here?" Said the man without looking up from his work, trying to dismiss the unwanted attention that will surely slow down his already dragging day.

"Yes. Until end January. New owner, rent is now more. My husband is very sick. We have to move now." She said, now privately starting to sob. "I'm sorry, It's very hard. I'm sorry. Merry new year" She said, slowly raising her push cart into the building.

"Happy new year" he said back Sadly. "I'm sorry," he says. "I hope your husband feels better" he said again, now feeling embarrassed for his rudeness....

Sunset in Chicago

I was always very curious and at times I would think myself odd for thinking too deeply in everything. Growing up in Southwest Texas was a great experience for me. Even though I didn’t know it then, my family lived very modestly, but like I said, we never noticed because in the town we lived in, nearly everybody dealt with the same. I had always assumed my parents loved each other even though they would fight often. My father had always been a loner. He never really had a childhood, being the oldest boy in a family of five children, he was forced to become the man of the house at a young age when his father decided to run off. I can only imagine the burden that this puts on a young mind. Eventually, years later his father would return and with his return would come the years of overcompensating “ fatherly discipline” . He worked the majority of his life already though only being in his late teens. A short time after he returned from Vietnam he met and married my mother and had my siblings and I. I don’t think he ever got the hang of being a family man, being married and being looked up to by his children. My father took a lot of comfort in drinking because of this. Again, this was something I would only realise years later.

I noticed he had his jacket pulled tight against him. It was colder than it has been that night and I thought his leather letterman style jacket would keep him warmer than my jacket did right then. I let the man clear my vehicle and I grabbed my order. I took a second look at the address on the house to make the confirmation and I opened the door and stepped out still facing in the direction my car was facing. I turn to close the door and spot the man again a couple yards from me, only he wasn’t on the sidewalk anymore and he wasn’t walking away from me anymore. What was he doing?

“Don’t move mother fucker! Don’t move!” He said in a loud whisper. “ This is a robbery!” He said pulling his revolver from his pocket.

A Good Night to Die

He was an old man, maybe in his seventies or eighties. He was in slacks and a flower shirt. His head was was lowered either in prayer or reverie and it allowed me to view his head full of grey, thin hair. He stood very still at the foot of a grave marked only by an American flag. As I passed him up, I started wondering about the person he was there to visit at seven thirty on a Sunday morning. How much he must miss them. How empty he must feel to have the need be close to their resting place.

Was the deceased his brother, who fought alongside of him in the "great war"? Were they called to serve their country together?

Gone, not Forgotten

"This is the story of fated lives, a noble hero and his jealous wife. Though his actions brave and his spirit kind, his lover kept a watchful eye. She bought the curse that sealed her fate. One that is fueled by mistrust and hate. For if deceit befall her date, His soul be lost in history’s page but if his intention were to be confused the lover will trade and pay his dues. Until their story be renewed and the soul that hides within is true.”

There is a certain minute in every night that the entire world goes silent. It’s hard to know when the minute is however, it changes every night but for that one minute the world stops and there is nothing but unbelievable silence. Just as the human mind can find it’s moment of absolute peace, so can the planet. Not everybody will be able to experience this moment. I myself have only felt it once but it does exist. You just have to open enough to accept the possibility of it and it will find you and with it, the solutions to all your problems.

I was underground looking up through plexiglass under a busy walkway. People were walking over me just going about their days. I beat my fists against the glass to get their attention. "I'm trapped!" I yelled but no one heard. Finally I sat down. I was trapped in this dark space and a feeling of defeat came over me. So there I sat, looking up into the sunny sky's as the world walked and continue around me...... there I sat and there I stayed .

“Life becomes a melted day, I surrender to the cosmic clout.

Time will be the chains that bind, My word the key, the path to the stars!”

Just then they heard a soft humming that quickly turned into a roar and the walls began to shake. “ we need to get the hell out of here, the walls are caving in!” screamed Juan, quickly taking Jasmine by the hand to lead her down the narrow pathway. “ quickly, run!” screamed Juan. Jasmine in her haste dropped the torch and the halls became dark. All they could do is follow the screams of their guide, the child Rodolfo who’s voice was echoing from the opening of the cave. “ This way, I see the lightning now!” Juan said franticly. They both run out of the cave just as it completely collapses in, sending a cloud of dust and debris out around them.

Through the Portal

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