HEY YOU! Yeah you I am talking to. Yeah you hear that, you hear that sound. A 'tick-tock, tick-tock.' Well I will try to get some sleep anyways," yelled a old man that ran the hotel, and then slammed his door shut on me, the night custodian.
The old man was 78 years old about a month ago now. He was really starting to lose it in his head. I mean he is hearing things no one else is around here can hear. About a week ago he was yelling up a storm in the basement of "The Grand Hotel" (his hotel he founded back when he was only 20 years old) about a dog barking, but when we came a running along to help him out, their was not sound. He kept yelling and screaming about this dog barking though for about 10 minutes while we were down their. He wouldn't leave the basement until he caught that dang dog he kept telling us. Then he just quit and he never brought it up again. Look at him now though, here he is hearing a clock ticking or something. I am guessing just his mind losing it again. Like I was saying though, the old man is a tall, skinny 78 year old man. He has no hair what-so-ever on him expect a big white mustache. His skin is wrinkly like a dried up tomato. When he falls asleep though, he has no problem staying asleep. No one can wake him up too. It is like he is in a trance while he sleeps. We asked the doctor one night if we should worry about this, but he says it is normal for people his age to not be able to wake easily. Anyway I had better get back to work here, gotta clean up a mess in a bathroom on level five.
A young girlish voice whispered, "Frank Basim!" WHAM, the old man shot straight up out of his bed. His red silk blanket fell off his chest as he sat up instantaneously. "Who's their?" He hollered in his hoarse scared voice. Frank grabbed a shiny silver knife of his wooden nightstand. "I am warning you, I am armed! Don't come near me!" The old man had sweat sliding down his forehead. He was now kneeling upon his bed, in his night gown holding the knife like it was his Excalibur. The girlish voice whispered again. "Frank Basim!" Frank started swinging his little pathetic knife around him like someone was approaching him. "We warned you, Frank Basim!" whispered the voice. Sweat was streaming down the old man's, Frank's, head now. For an old man he was really sweating, then he said, "Warned me?" in his scared questionable tone. "War-warned me a-about what may I as-ask?" All Frank could hear was a voice, there was nothing to this voice but just a sound. "We had warned you years ago Frank. Now, now you must leave forever." Frank had gotten into a sitting position upon the edge of his bed now."What do you mean 'leave forever?' " asked Frank, but that must have been the wrong thing to do. His bed instantly started shaking, nothing else but his bed though. All the furniture, shelves, and things around him didn't shake. Frank leaned back on his bed as not to fall out of his bed that seemed to be having an earthquake of itself. It just kept shaking and shaking. It seemed to be going on for hours by now! Frank kept thinking, hoping that someone down stairs or near could hear the racket this was making.
WHAM! Then out of nowhere it had stopped, like someone had switched the on button to off. "Do not anger us again Frank, you do not want to feel the full extent of our wrath. Now listen closely my little pest. You have exactly 24 hours to destroy this place, AND put everything back the way it was." The voice had turned into more and more of a man's voice with every word. "You and you alone have to do this or else you WILL join us Frank! You will join us from where you had put us 58 years ago. Remember we are always watching!" Then their was a faint POP, and Frank had fainted backwards onto his bed.
The next morning the custodian had come into Frank Basim's room to check up on him. He found Frank laying on his bed with a bloody knife in his hand and his neck slit open. Police filed the death as a suicide after the autopsy came back on the body saying that Mr. Basim had suffered from schizophrenia for the past 10 years of his life. They say he must have killed himself in the dead of night to save himself from something he had dreamed up in his head. The very next day the hotel was burned down, "never to be used again after my death" said his will.. The hotel site had become a burial ground once again. Frank Basim had ended up being buried their for all of eternity. Upon his tombstone read, "Here lies Franks Basim, this is where he had lived and left the world . . . forever!"
This is a fictional story written by Noah Bitney!
Friday, June 24, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
An escape
"Why? Why do you think you can come 30 minutes late, and have it be okay?" My wife, as usual, is yelling at me for the like tenth time today. Yeah and guess what else I have only been home today for like a total of 15 minutes to a half an hour. Everyday it is the same old thing: Why don't you take the trash out? Why aren't you home on time? Where were you? Why are you so crabby lately? Can't we just talk anymore? Why don't you help with the baby? UGH, I am just getting so sick of it. Yeah sure I would help with the baby, but every time I try to change the diaper or put some clothes on it you just do it again right afterwords like I did a bad job doing it. I am crabby because you keep yelling at me all the time for having to stay an extra 15 minutes at work because I have to make some sort of income for this household. You, your not getting paid right now because you have to take care of the baby. We need the money honey! Of course though I couldn't say any of this to her. Oh god I would be in so much trouble it isn't even funny.
"Are you even listening to a word I am saying John?" my wife asked in a pissed off tone. "Yes dear, sorry just thinking about something at work-" That was the wrong thing to say. "AT WORK? AT WORK? YOU SPEND ALL DAY THEIR AWAY FROM HERE, AND SO WHEN YOU COME HOME YOU CAN JUST CONTINUE TO THINK ABOUT? WHY NOT ACTUALLY HELP ME, THINK ABOUT ME AND THE EFFING BABY JOHN!" Oh great here we go. See what I mean by saying that was the wrong thing to say? "Sorry baby. I am sorry, is their anything you want me to do?" Yeah I bet their is something she wants me to do, but will she ask me? Nope she won't you just wait. "John no there isn't anything . . . . . . . WAIT actually yes, JUST LEAVE! GET OUR NOW! Get out of the house, and just get out of my life!"
"Wait what? Jessica what are you talking about? I love you, you love me, why would you kick me out of the house? More importantly out of your life?" She got up of her chair at the dinner table, and shoved me out of the door I had just come through from coming home from work. "AND JUST STAY OUT!" She yelled while slamming the door shut. "What the fuck?" I said allowed. What just happened? I mean she just kicked me out. Is it over between us? I am just so confused. What in the hell did I do wrong? Yeah sure I came home a little late, but I have been doing that a lot lately because I have had to stay at the office. She knows that, I know she knows that! She had better know that. All the things I have done for her, all the things I have given up to be with her and Jackson, our child. I could have been a major author. I could have countless amount of time to finish my book, and get it published and make millions. I was always told it was going to be great by my old agent, but I chased after love my love for Jessica. Look where that has taken me?
I sat their on the sidewalk for what felt like an hour or so. I just sat their thinking about what my life could have been what it would be if I hadn't fallen in love. Wait though, wait just a minute! This is an escape. Yes, this is perfect I can get away for a few days and just clear my head. I don't think I would leave forever, because I still love her, but this is it. I can get away for a few days and just have an escape. I can go see a movie, maybe even in my favorite way to see a movie, in IMAX. I could just drive and dive that is always a good way to just clear my head. I could finish reading a novel even possibly. This is just perfect, this is the perfect escape from my world.
What if she won't take me back though? What if, right now she is expecting me to come back through that door. This is an escape though. Should I give it up? What do I do? All I know is that I love Jennifer and I never have, and never will regret choosing the life I chose one year ago! What do I do? I could lose her forever right here and right now.
This is a fictional story written by Noah Bitney
"Are you even listening to a word I am saying John?" my wife asked in a pissed off tone. "Yes dear, sorry just thinking about something at work-" That was the wrong thing to say. "AT WORK? AT WORK? YOU SPEND ALL DAY THEIR AWAY FROM HERE, AND SO WHEN YOU COME HOME YOU CAN JUST CONTINUE TO THINK ABOUT? WHY NOT ACTUALLY HELP ME, THINK ABOUT ME AND THE EFFING BABY JOHN!" Oh great here we go. See what I mean by saying that was the wrong thing to say? "Sorry baby. I am sorry, is their anything you want me to do?" Yeah I bet their is something she wants me to do, but will she ask me? Nope she won't you just wait. "John no there isn't anything . . . . . . . WAIT actually yes, JUST LEAVE! GET OUR NOW! Get out of the house, and just get out of my life!"
"Wait what? Jessica what are you talking about? I love you, you love me, why would you kick me out of the house? More importantly out of your life?" She got up of her chair at the dinner table, and shoved me out of the door I had just come through from coming home from work. "AND JUST STAY OUT!" She yelled while slamming the door shut. "What the fuck?" I said allowed. What just happened? I mean she just kicked me out. Is it over between us? I am just so confused. What in the hell did I do wrong? Yeah sure I came home a little late, but I have been doing that a lot lately because I have had to stay at the office. She knows that, I know she knows that! She had better know that. All the things I have done for her, all the things I have given up to be with her and Jackson, our child. I could have been a major author. I could have countless amount of time to finish my book, and get it published and make millions. I was always told it was going to be great by my old agent, but I chased after love my love for Jessica. Look where that has taken me?
I sat their on the sidewalk for what felt like an hour or so. I just sat their thinking about what my life could have been what it would be if I hadn't fallen in love. Wait though, wait just a minute! This is an escape. Yes, this is perfect I can get away for a few days and just clear my head. I don't think I would leave forever, because I still love her, but this is it. I can get away for a few days and just have an escape. I can go see a movie, maybe even in my favorite way to see a movie, in IMAX. I could just drive and dive that is always a good way to just clear my head. I could finish reading a novel even possibly. This is just perfect, this is the perfect escape from my world.
What if she won't take me back though? What if, right now she is expecting me to come back through that door. This is an escape though. Should I give it up? What do I do? All I know is that I love Jennifer and I never have, and never will regret choosing the life I chose one year ago! What do I do? I could lose her forever right here and right now.
This is a fictional story written by Noah Bitney
Friday, June 3, 2011
Why me?
Dear Students of Walter High, my parents, and the bullies of my life. Here is my story and why I did what I did. You know who you are in this story so make sure you pay close attention to it.
Well, it all began since I was second grade. I was a normal kid if I do say so myself. Apparently "they" didn't think I was though. I loved to play kickball, and I loved everything "they loved." That wasn't good enough I guess. Sure I liked to read and they didn't, who cares right? I cannot be the only one in our entire class who likes to read. Though that didn't matter did it? "They" picked me to make sun of, "they" picked me to bully for nine years of school. Who is "they?" Well "they are the three girls, and two guys who picked on me all the way from second grade to eleventh grade. For nights and nights I cried myself to sleep asking myself the same question over and over again, "Why me?" Why did they have to pick me to make fun of every day of my life.
Yeah sure I went to the teachers and told them what was going on, I only did that though until the fifth grade. It had only made things 20 times worse with them. I was from then on called a "tattle tale." Their were loads of name they called me. For example they called me: dweeb, nerd, fatty, dork, four eyes, mister know-it-all, Mr. Stinky, hobbit, elf, sniffles, and loads of others. I could sit here all day naming things that they call me. Sure some of them I can blow off over my head an ignore, but it comes to a point where it just fills me up and I just want to explode with anger and rage. I just want to punch the living crap out of them.
At first they weren't abusive, but it didn't take very long until they did become very abusive. I was pushed down a flight of stairs, which resulted in many bruises and cuts all over my body. Sure people asked, "What happened?" I just told them I tripped. I knew there were people who knew the truth about what was happening, but they of course wouldn't tell anyone because they would be picked on next. If someone started to hang our with me too, they would be picked on too. So I have no friends what-so-ever. Teachers ask what happens to me when I fall down the stairs. I just tell them it was an accident, the same of course with me parents. The stairs aren't the only way they actually physically hurt me. They also push me into my locker, trip me in the hallways, and well anything you can really think of.
Why do I tell you all of this in a letter? Well I wanted you to know my story, all of you to know it before I decided to take my life tonight. I didn't want to leave in a mystery to some of you who knew me quite well. So yes I was bullied for most of my life. I decided to end my life because I could not just handle it anymore. It happened to me every single day, and their was no one I could talk to about it, or become friends with. Yeah sure people say that one you it the bottom of the ladder the only way is up, but I kept stumbling down the ladder when I started to climb. It was more like I was beaten down the ladder instead of stumbling. People also say, "Life is worth living for!" Hm, yes it is somewhat true, but at the same time when you are living in a living hell, you might as well just end your life because you don't want to live with a living torture. I cried every single night. I had no one, NO ONE, to open up to about this problem without making the situation worse. So, I decided to take a gun to my head, and end the life that I had. It was my decision to do this no one else's.
The one last thing I have to say (ask really) before I go is directed towards my bullies, "Why? Why me?"
Sincerely,
John Fencher
John Fencher died on May 17th, 2011. He went to Walter High School in St. Ulta, California. He was only 17 years old when he had died. This letter was received in his High School on the 18th of May. It was read on the morning announcements that day, that was John's plan. His body was found in his room that afternoon. . . . . His parents had been gone on a trip.
This is a fictional story written by Noah Bitney
Well, it all began since I was second grade. I was a normal kid if I do say so myself. Apparently "they" didn't think I was though. I loved to play kickball, and I loved everything "they loved." That wasn't good enough I guess. Sure I liked to read and they didn't, who cares right? I cannot be the only one in our entire class who likes to read. Though that didn't matter did it? "They" picked me to make sun of, "they" picked me to bully for nine years of school. Who is "they?" Well "they are the three girls, and two guys who picked on me all the way from second grade to eleventh grade. For nights and nights I cried myself to sleep asking myself the same question over and over again, "Why me?" Why did they have to pick me to make fun of every day of my life.
Yeah sure I went to the teachers and told them what was going on, I only did that though until the fifth grade. It had only made things 20 times worse with them. I was from then on called a "tattle tale." Their were loads of name they called me. For example they called me: dweeb, nerd, fatty, dork, four eyes, mister know-it-all, Mr. Stinky, hobbit, elf, sniffles, and loads of others. I could sit here all day naming things that they call me. Sure some of them I can blow off over my head an ignore, but it comes to a point where it just fills me up and I just want to explode with anger and rage. I just want to punch the living crap out of them.
At first they weren't abusive, but it didn't take very long until they did become very abusive. I was pushed down a flight of stairs, which resulted in many bruises and cuts all over my body. Sure people asked, "What happened?" I just told them I tripped. I knew there were people who knew the truth about what was happening, but they of course wouldn't tell anyone because they would be picked on next. If someone started to hang our with me too, they would be picked on too. So I have no friends what-so-ever. Teachers ask what happens to me when I fall down the stairs. I just tell them it was an accident, the same of course with me parents. The stairs aren't the only way they actually physically hurt me. They also push me into my locker, trip me in the hallways, and well anything you can really think of.
Why do I tell you all of this in a letter? Well I wanted you to know my story, all of you to know it before I decided to take my life tonight. I didn't want to leave in a mystery to some of you who knew me quite well. So yes I was bullied for most of my life. I decided to end my life because I could not just handle it anymore. It happened to me every single day, and their was no one I could talk to about it, or become friends with. Yeah sure people say that one you it the bottom of the ladder the only way is up, but I kept stumbling down the ladder when I started to climb. It was more like I was beaten down the ladder instead of stumbling. People also say, "Life is worth living for!" Hm, yes it is somewhat true, but at the same time when you are living in a living hell, you might as well just end your life because you don't want to live with a living torture. I cried every single night. I had no one, NO ONE, to open up to about this problem without making the situation worse. So, I decided to take a gun to my head, and end the life that I had. It was my decision to do this no one else's.
The one last thing I have to say (ask really) before I go is directed towards my bullies, "Why? Why me?"
Sincerely,
John Fencher
John Fencher died on May 17th, 2011. He went to Walter High School in St. Ulta, California. He was only 17 years old when he had died. This letter was received in his High School on the 18th of May. It was read on the morning announcements that day, that was John's plan. His body was found in his room that afternoon. . . . . His parents had been gone on a trip.
This is a fictional story written by Noah Bitney
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