Eric Stevens
A tall, dark-haired boy walks through a dark, menacing alley. To any other person terror would flood their body immediately upon entering this threatening hole, but to Eric it was a home away from home. The smell of the cab’s exhaust and the rotting fish in the dumpsters was soothing to him. A grueling childhood with violent parents led him to this life. He walks to the end of the alley and ducks under a curtain into a hazy, smoke-filled room. The young girls that sell their own bodies to put more needle marks in their arms, to him, are like children playing hopscotch and jump-rope on the sidewalk. Years of living in fear of the next time he did something that angered his father and the subsequent beating that always followed have made him tough and cold. He shows no emotions. It’s almost as if he has none at all. Human life is worthless to him. If he has to take a life, it’s business, nothing more. He’s been hurt more than society will ever really understand and because of this lack of understanding he is forced to be alone. To fight for himself and never let another person hurt him again.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
The Impulse
Woman: Please, can we talk about this?
Man: I don’t think talking is going to help.
Woman: Yes it will. I need to explain.
Man: What possible explanation could you have?
Woman: Listen to me. I know I hurt you in the past and I’m so sorry but you weren’t there that night. You don’t understand.
Man: No, you’re right, I wasn’t there. I was sitting at home worried sick because I didn’t know where my wife was.
Woman: How many times are you going to make me apologize?
Man: You can apologize as much as you want, it won’t change what you did.
Woman: You have to know that I regret every action and every thought. I will never do that to you again.
Man: How am I supposed to believe you?
Woman: I’m your wife and you love me. I know you love me.
Man: I used to love you.
Woman: How can you say that? I made one mistake and I’ve apologized for it every second since the day it happened. That can’t change the way you’ve felt for the last 6 years.
Man: He changed the way you felt about me in just a couple hours.
Woman: That is not fair. I never stopped loving you.
Man: So it’s okay to sleep with someone who isn’t the man you love? Is that what you’re saying?
Woman: No. I’m saying I was stupid that night. I got myself into something I couldn’t get out of. You have to know that I never stopped loving you or forgot about you.
Man: Oh I see. So while you were with him you were thinking of me? That makes me feel so comforted.
Woman: No… that’s not what I mean.
Man: Okay so if you are being honest about 7 months ago than what happened tonight? Were you thinking about me tonight while you were upstairs with him?
Woman: I didn’t do anything with him tonight!
Man: You were alone with him for 30 minutes! How can you say nothing happened?
Woman: Because nothing did happen. I swear. I could never hurt you again like I did.
Man: I just can’t trust you. The part of me that fell in love with you wants to believe you but every other logical part of me just can’t.
Woman: I told him to leave. I said I never wanted to see him again.
Man: And that took a half hour?
Woman: Yes. I explained to him what I’m explaining to you now. I told him I loved my husband and that I would never love him. I told him that I regretted every second of that night and he meant nothing to me.
Man: So you don’t have feelings for him.
Woman: No, none at all. I love you and only you. Don’t you know that?
Man: I thought I did but now I’m not sure.
Woman: Please just remember how happy we’ve been together. How perfect everything has been. Remember that we are everything to each other.
Man: I know. I want to tell you I forgive you but I think it’s going to take some time.
Woman: So we can make this work?
Man: Yes. I think we can.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
First Page
Jacob's Journal
April 12, 1993: Robert Sundell is shot outside a Las Vegas courthouse and, after being in a coma for a week, died. The previous morning he had been in court on his last attempt of getting and alleged killer off the streets. He hadn't lost a case in 6 years and he wasn't going to let this case end his perfect record. The entire night before the last day of the trial he spent preparing his closing arguments. They had to be just right and, after hours of work, he knew they were. At 11:00 a.m. he received a call informing him that the jury had agreed on a verdict. He threw on his suit and raced to the courthouse. The verdict was guilty. Finally after a full day of deliberation Juan Alvarez was sentenced to twenty-five years to life for the murders of a drug store owner and his wife.
Robert walked out of the courthouse with a well-deserved feeling of accomplishment. He had just pulled out his cell phone to call his wife and tell her the good news when he heard shouting behind him. As he turned to see what the chaos was about he was shot twice in the chest.
He was pronounced dead at the scene.
Nine years later a young boy sits on an old creaky bed in small one-bedroom apartment in a city full of drug addicts and criminals. He sat listening to the sounds of his empty stomach. His eyes burned from lack of sleep due to the screams of helpless women and the echoes of gunshots coming from the street below. In his hands he held a journal that looked as if it was 50 years old. This journal was his only worldly possession and he kept it with him all day and when he went to sleep at night he hid it safely under his pillow.
This boys name is Jacob Sundell. He is thirteen years old. Years ago he used to live in a beautiful house in a quiet suburban neighborhood. His family had a great life. Jake's father was a renowned lawyer for the Las Vegas District Attorney but, because of his long hours at work, he hardly ever saw his only son. His mother, however, was a photographer and she would take him to photo shoots. He loved spending the day with his mother. She was his best friend. These are the days Jake dreams of. The days he prays to go back to so badly.
After his father's death Jake and his mother lost everything. The hospital bills took everything they had. They were broke and homeless.
His mother began sinking into a deep and dark depression. She became a person that Jake didn't know, she wasn't his best friend anymore. Her photographs showed her sadness and she lost all her business. After spending a month living in their car she found a job as a waitress in a diner 30 minutes south of their old home.
The money she made in the diner wasn't enough to support them and her cocaine addiction. On her bad nights when she didn't have money to buy drugs she would trade her body to get what she needed. Those nights Jake would sit home all alone in their old, run-down, dirty apartment praying that he would live until the morning. There was no money for food so often he would have to go a few days without eating unless his mom could bring home food from the diner. This food, although it was old and repulsive, was the best food Jake got.
On the 9th year anniversary of his father's death, Allison Sundell spent the night on a coke binge which left Jacob alone once again. He sat on the bed that him and his mother were forced to share, reading and re-reading the words he had written the night before. Little did he know that the events that he recorded in his raggedy old journal would ultimately lead to his death.
April 12, 1993: Robert Sundell is shot outside a Las Vegas courthouse and, after being in a coma for a week, died. The previous morning he had been in court on his last attempt of getting and alleged killer off the streets. He hadn't lost a case in 6 years and he wasn't going to let this case end his perfect record. The entire night before the last day of the trial he spent preparing his closing arguments. They had to be just right and, after hours of work, he knew they were. At 11:00 a.m. he received a call informing him that the jury had agreed on a verdict. He threw on his suit and raced to the courthouse. The verdict was guilty. Finally after a full day of deliberation Juan Alvarez was sentenced to twenty-five years to life for the murders of a drug store owner and his wife.
Robert walked out of the courthouse with a well-deserved feeling of accomplishment. He had just pulled out his cell phone to call his wife and tell her the good news when he heard shouting behind him. As he turned to see what the chaos was about he was shot twice in the chest.
He was pronounced dead at the scene.
Nine years later a young boy sits on an old creaky bed in small one-bedroom apartment in a city full of drug addicts and criminals. He sat listening to the sounds of his empty stomach. His eyes burned from lack of sleep due to the screams of helpless women and the echoes of gunshots coming from the street below. In his hands he held a journal that looked as if it was 50 years old. This journal was his only worldly possession and he kept it with him all day and when he went to sleep at night he hid it safely under his pillow.
This boys name is Jacob Sundell. He is thirteen years old. Years ago he used to live in a beautiful house in a quiet suburban neighborhood. His family had a great life. Jake's father was a renowned lawyer for the Las Vegas District Attorney but, because of his long hours at work, he hardly ever saw his only son. His mother, however, was a photographer and she would take him to photo shoots. He loved spending the day with his mother. She was his best friend. These are the days Jake dreams of. The days he prays to go back to so badly.
After his father's death Jake and his mother lost everything. The hospital bills took everything they had. They were broke and homeless.
His mother began sinking into a deep and dark depression. She became a person that Jake didn't know, she wasn't his best friend anymore. Her photographs showed her sadness and she lost all her business. After spending a month living in their car she found a job as a waitress in a diner 30 minutes south of their old home.
The money she made in the diner wasn't enough to support them and her cocaine addiction. On her bad nights when she didn't have money to buy drugs she would trade her body to get what she needed. Those nights Jake would sit home all alone in their old, run-down, dirty apartment praying that he would live until the morning. There was no money for food so often he would have to go a few days without eating unless his mom could bring home food from the diner. This food, although it was old and repulsive, was the best food Jake got.
On the 9th year anniversary of his father's death, Allison Sundell spent the night on a coke binge which left Jacob alone once again. He sat on the bed that him and his mother were forced to share, reading and re-reading the words he had written the night before. Little did he know that the events that he recorded in his raggedy old journal would ultimately lead to his death.
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