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Brienna Schroeder
Creative Writing
Essay/Short Story 1
Defiance
The Boy
The boy looked up at the high council in their high chairs with their high foreheads and high
expectations. He looked and wished he was high. He was being assigned another ‘charitable
deed’, and as usual he felt like he was on trial for execution. Seven anonymous faces leered
down at him, contempt subtly apparent on six of them. The boy couldn’t have said whether they
were male or female, yet the one who’s façade was stoic, he thought, had to be a woman. A
mother? He often wondered this as he lay awake between deeds. Wondering was pretty much all
there was to do in Purgatory.
“What you want me to do?” he said, “you want me to rob a bank with him or somethin?”
Six silken white faces frowned simultaneously at his question. The mother appeared unfazed as
usual.
A shrewd, wrinkled face leaned over the high platform it sat behind and growled,
“Mockery will send you spiraling downward boy.”
The boys face burned with anger.
“It’s not mockery, it’s ignorance! How am I supposed to know what melody ya’ll want me to
chirp if you keep erasing my memory every month?”
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“You know it is necessary for your judgement boy!” The unisex voice rose goosebumps on the
boy’s neck.
“I plead guilty then!” The boy shouted. A gasp went through the Chamber of judgement and
echoed off the white, shifting walls.
“Send me to hell, it’s gotta be better than forgetting any good I’ve done.” The boy spat.
“Believe me boy, were you not a child and therefore an ‘innocent’ when you died, you would be
nothing but a smoldering pile of ash now.” The boy shivered before he could stop the
involuntary reaction. To be honest, the idea of Hell scared the shit out of him.
The boy had lived a short and selfish life. He stole from stores and played tricks and got into
fights. None of those things, however, landed him in Purgatory. It was actually lucky that he was
only twelve years old when he died; a few years older and he would have been sent straight to
hell, no judgment necessary.
There was no place in heaven for a murderer.
But hell could not take an innocent, even a murdering innocent, without judgment and the chance
for redemption that is. So here he was, awaiting judgment and approaching the end of his
chances for redemption. He looked up at the High Council, their 6 scowling, unknowable faces
and turned his attention to the mother. Her serenity calmed him. She is a mother, he thought and
he calmed himself. He spoke to them all but his eyes never left hers.
“What can I do to help this man?”
He jumped as another voice answered.
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“Show him what he’s lost because of his passive nature.” The boy squashed his disappointment,
(he had never heard the mother speak), and turned to face the voice that had spoken.
“You must teach this man defiance.”
Johnathon Davis Rictor
Not a day went by that Johnathon Davis Rictor didn’t ask why.
“Why do I still work here?”
“Why am I alone?” and the most honest and self aware question of all,
“Why have I done nothing with my life?” therein lay the problem, Johnathon Davis Rictor had
done nothing with his life. This wouldn’t have been a problem considering he was only 25 years
of age; but Jonathon Rictor was about to die.
“Thursday is laundry day.” John said to himself, following the sidewalk to his usual Laundromat.
He heaved a large back of dirty clothes over his shoulder like a carcass and strode on. Yet
another downfall to his ‘too good to be true’ priced flat: no washing machine. He reached the
Laundromat (he never called it Margies’), and stepped inside. A dusty floor fan swiveled its head
left to right as it tried to cool the stifling heat. An ancient television bowed sullenly from the
wall; one of the screws holding it upright missing. A San Antonio news station was playing, but
John never watched the news. A slight asian woman with shining black hair stood behind the
counter and John approached her.
She saw him and pulled a roll of quarters from the pouch around her waist. Her smile sent waves
of desire down his spine. He handed a ten over and took the roll with a murmur of thanks, then
ducked his head and retreated to his laundry. He did not see her smile falter as he turned away,
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nor the disappointment in her eyes. John was too afraid to see much of anything. In fact, it was
this fear that led to his untimely demise.
He stepped out of the laundromat, his clothes clean and folded in their rucksack.
He lay there, as the light faded from his eyes and his blood soaked through the rucksack to stain
his clothes.
“What have I done with my life.” He whispered to himself as the sound of sirens grew closer.
His vision went black.
Johnathon Davis Rictor was dead.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Purgatory
“Johnathon Davis Rictor, my time with you is brief.” A voice, its gender unknown spoke into
the darkness.
John opened his eyes and flinched at the painfully white light.
“Where am I?” He said, his eyes coming into focus.
“You sir are in Purgatory.” John sat up and looked around. He was alone in an empty room.
Everything was flat white, except the walls, they were white, but it was as if they were made of
clouds: constantly shifting. He marveled at them for a moment, and then asked the voice,
“What is Purgatory exactly?” He stood up and walked to one of the shifting walls.
“This is where you will be judged Johnathon.” John ran his fingers through the cloud like
substance and they came away wet and sparkling with precipitation.
“Incredible.” He said in wonderment.
“What am I to be judged for?” He asked, his eyes examining the cloud wall.
“We must determine the true nature of your person.”
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John stepped away from the wall and spoke to the air,
“Am I dead?”
“Yes, and unfortunately, we have no idea where to put you.”
John frowned,
“What do you mean by that?”
The voice answered,
“Well, in life, you did no true wrongs, so we cannot put you in hell.”
John nodded,
“So, what’s the problem then?”
The voice made a sound that was almost a chuckle, but John couldn’t be sure.
“You haven’t done much right either. Your life, was essentially unlived.”
“So what do we do now?” John asked.
“Well, we are going to force you to live and see what happens. The boy will be your guide.”
There was a sound like snapping fingers and the boy walked into the room through the cloud
wall.
The boy looked at him,
“We don’t got much time Johnny, we better get started.” He reached his finger out and touched it
to Johns temple. It was as if lightning had struck him where the boys finger rested. He arched his
back in agony and his vision went black.
“Wake up Johnny! Wake up! We gotta go find the lady.”
John turned away from the insistant voice and pulled the blanket over his head.
The boy made a sound of frustration and yanked the blankets from the bed.
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“Johnny you have to meet the lady!”
Unable to play dead any longer, Johnny opened his eyes to find the boys face inches from his
own.
“What lady boy?”
The boy rolled his eyes,
“The lady you was meant to fall in love with Johnny.”
Johnathon Rictor blinked at the boy, his thoughts grasping on the asian woman in the
Laundromat.
“What you lookin so scared for Johnny? Don’t you wanna meet her?”
John ran a hand through his tousled hair and blew a sigh.
“Alright let’s go.”
The car ride was short, though not short enough, John thought irritably. The boy had spent the
entire fifteen minutes chattering on about the nature of orangutans. Apparently, while John
“recovered his life shell” (as the boy called it), the boy had spent the night googling everything
that popped into his head. John was ready to beat his head against the steering wheel, yet still, he
listened and feigned interest where it was required.
“Did you know that Orangutans are the biggest primates in Asia?”
John shook his head without looking at the boy.
“Yea, and the male orangutans are bigger than the females, and they have these big round cheek
things that make their faces look all weird. If I was a girl orangutan I would laugh at the boys.”
John chuckled, feeling slightly charmed for a moment by the boy’s enthusiasm.
“Do you know what Orangutans sound like when they call out to each other?” Jon asked, hoping
for a demonstration.
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“Yea! Oh AH AH AH!” the boy dissolved in giggles and John genuinely grinned.
“Oh, right here Johnny this is where the lady’s at.” The boy had pointed to a small private drive
that curved almost unnoticed, off the main road.
John’s Buick started shaking as it ate up the loose dirt and gravel. They drove down the dirt road
in silence; an unusual circumstance. John glanced over at the boy to make sure he was still
breathing and was taken aback by the boy’s tension. His eyes were locked on the road before him
and not a twitch could be seen in the muscles of his body.
“You alright boy?” John asked, more than a little unsettled.
Without taking his eyes off the road, the boy responded.
“Are you any good at fixen cars Johnny?”
John blinked at the unexpected inquiry and mumbled an honest reply.
“I can do basic things, like change a tire and check oil levels, why?”
The boy looked at him then, his gaze was direct and his eyes chilling, it was as if something
much bigger than the both of them combined was looking through the boy’s eyes.
“When you come upon a broken car on the side of the road, stop and help the man. It is
important that you are convincing in your auto repair expertise.”
The hair on John’s arms rose, “But I don’t really have any expertise, how can I be convincing.”
“For your safety, as well as hers, you must try.”
Fear rose like a cold lump in John’s throat and he nodded. There was no use arguing with the
high council, for he realized they were using the boy as a medium.
“Johnny, you good at fighting?”
The old boy was back and John breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’ve never been in a fight, so I don’t really know, why?”
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The boy shook himself,
“I don’t know, the question just popped into my head.”
It didn’t take long before John came upon a broken down Nova on the side of the road. Massive
amounts of smoke was billowing out of the open hood and John feared it would catch fire if not
soon attended.
“whoa cool!” the boy exclaimed. “I hope you can fix it Johnny; the lady needs your help.”
John felt a chill again at the boys repeated inquiry. He did not remember that he had already
asked him about fixing cars. That the boy acted as a medium for the high council there was no
longer any doubt.
John pulled up behind the car and hopped out. Rocks crunched under his steel-toed boots as he
strode over to the driver.
As he approached, he had to smother a laugh; the driver was a red faced man of about fifty. He
was sweating profusely and his face was streaked with dirt. He did not seem to be doing much to
help the situation. Bent under the hood, he was using both of his arms in an attempt to disperse
the smoke but was met with little success.
“Any chance I can get a look under the hood there sir?”
The man jumped at his voice and smacked his head hard on the underbelly of the hood.
“Ow damnit! What the hell boy you scared the living shit outta me!”
John put his hands up as a sign of peace and said, “I apologize sir, I only meant to help.”
The man was silent for a moment as he rubbed the blooming knot on his head and looked John
over.
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“I don’t need no damn help, now go on, get!”
John put his hands down, averted his eyes and began to walk back to his car. The boy stopped his
retreat.
“Don’t you dare Johnny! You gotta help the lady!”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed boy, but that old man over there ain’t no lady.”
The boy pouted stubbornly, “You given up like you’ve always done Johnny?”
John blanched at the statement. The boy was right, he was meant to be here for some reason. He
had to stop giving up so easily.
He turned on his heel and marched back to the man, the boy at his side.
“Old man, you need help and I’m gonna give it to you.”
The old man slammed the hood and walked out to the road where John stood.
“I said, I don’t need any of your damn help.”
“Yea and you talk to Johnny like that again and he gonna beat you upside the head!” The boy
interjected.
John put a hand on the boys shoulder to calm him. The old man turned purple and began inching
backwards towards the trunkl, eying John wearily.
“Now hold on one second there mister, the boy didn’t mean that…”
“Oh yes I did! You done said it yourself Johnny, You ain’t gonna get kicked around no more.
You offered this man help; he should be kinder to you.”
“I don’t want any trouble now.” The old man cried, his eyes darting between John and his car.
It wasn’t until John got closer that he heard the pounding. It was coming from the trunk, right
where the old man stood.
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“What is that?” He asked the man.
“It’s the carborator, you best go have a look.” The man said, nodding towards the smoking hood.
The sweat was pouring down his face now, though it should have been cooler, there was a nice
breeze and the man was no where near the engine.
“No its’s not, that sound is coming from your trunk.”
“JOHNNY SHE’S IN THERE!” the boy screamed.
“why you little shit!” spat the man and he stumbled after the boy who was standing about two
feet in front of John.
John grabbed the boy by the scruff of his neck and yanked him backwards just as the man pulled
a gun from beneath his un-tucked shirt.
“NO!” screamed John and he threw the boy to the ground. He sprinted at the man just as he
cocked the gun.
John collided into the man with enough force to bring the both of them to the ground.
A shot fired.
“Johnny no!” the boy screamed.
He ran up to the two bodies on the ground both of them unmoving. Blood pooled around them.
The boy grabbed onto John’s shirt and heaved with all of his strength until he rolled off of the
old man.
Johnny groaned in pain and his eyes fluttered open. The boy hugged him in relief and Johnny
hissed in agony.
“My arm, get off!” John grumbled through clenched teeth. The boy ripped his arms away and
stood up. About three inches from John’s elbow, right through his left bicept a bullet sized hole
was gushing blood. John staggered to his feet and glanced at what was now the corpse of the old
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man. The same bullet that had gone through John’s arm had somehow ripped through the old
man’s jugular. He must have bled out while the boy hugged him.
They both stared down at the body, it was the first time John had ever seen a dead man, though
he wasn’t so sure about the boy. The boy stared, unable to avert his eyes from the blood; but he
seemed calm somehow.
The pounding from the trunk broke their reverie and they both snapped back to earth.
“Go wait in the car boy.”
“But I wanna see her!” The boy complained.
“Boy, I don’t know what we’re gonna find in there, it’s best if you’re out of harms way.” When
the boy still looked sullen he added, “For my sake.”
“Oh fine.” The boy turned back towards the Buick with slumped shoulders.
John watched until the boy was seated and buckled in the front seat before he turned back to the
trunk. He knocked on the bumper and said, “Hold tight, I’m gonna get you outta there miss.”
He jogged to the driver’s side door and searched frantically for the trunk button. When he
pressed it, all hell broke loose.
In a time span of about five seconds, the engine caught fire, the trunk burst open and a woman
wearing nothing but a scowl flung herself to the ground.
“Miss are you alright?” John ran to her, all the while unbuttoning his shirt. The boy was there in
a heartbeat with the blanket that John had always kept in his backseat.
All that John could tell about the woman before the boy threw a blanket over her was that she
had short curly brown hair and a great, heart shaped ass. John blushed and looked away; the
picture of schoolboy shyness. What was more embarrassing was that the boy held it together like
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it was nothing.
“Johnny I think we outta do something about the body, and the cars gonna explode in about a
minute or so, we should probably get outta here.”
The woman coughed; a dry and rough sound. John realized that she had been trapped in a
smoking car with little ventilation and could have hit himself for not moving faster.
“Put that son of a bitch in his car and let him burn.” The woman quipped, her voice raspy and
low. John and the boy looked at each other startled.
“ma’am, I don’t…
“aw hell get outta my way.” She shoved past them and walked up to the old mans body. First she
gave it a good kick, then she grabbed him by the collar of his white dress shirt and pulled. The
blanket fell from her shoulders and John averted his eyes.
“You gonna help me with this sack of shit or you gonna stand there and watch your toes.”
“Boy, stay back, there’s no telling when this car is gonna blow.”
John ran up to the corpse and heaved the body over his good shoulder; the movement shot
agonizing pain up his wounded arm but he grit his teeth and bore it, he did not wish to look weak
in front of her. The woman opened the door and stood aside, unbothered by her state of nudity.
The flames were growing higher and hotter, heat waves rose off the car making it look like a
mirage. John flung the man into the car and slammed the door.
“Run to my car now!” The car was getting ready to blow.
The woman grabbed the blanket and threw it around her shoulders, then ran to the car where the
boy was already waiting. John turned to follow and saw the gun shining on the ground. Thinking
it might be best to dispose of the murder weapon, John tossed it through the open window then
ran like hell to his car.
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He jumped in, started the ignition and spun the car around so it was going back the way they had
come. He then proceeded to floor it. When they reached pavement, the old man’s car exploded,
the boy and the woman both whipped around in their seats and pressed their faces against the
window to watch. John glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a tower of smoke and fire rising
just above the tall grass that lined the drive.
John had never even known the man’s name.
About ten minutes after the explosion, a series of cop cars, a fire truck and an ambulance blew
by, their sirens blaring.
They drove back to John’s flat in silence. No one asked anything of the woman, and she asked
nothing of them. Everything that needed to be said could wait until they had a place to lay low.