A Moment of Peace Part 1

A Moment of Peace - Part 1 by Toran

http://toranistheauthor.tumblr.com/

Warning:  This story contains fluffies, violence and human tragedy.   Viewer discretion is advised.


I don't even like camping.
It's been three days since I came out to the middle of nowhere and I've plans to stay for another four.
Birds wake me up at the break of dawn, bugs are a constant annoyance and the nights are starting to get a bit colder.
Comes with the territory.
The food's okay, I can cook for myself just fine.

I don't like camping, but I had to get out of there.
I hope dad doesn't get mad, I left without telling him... but I did leave a note saying where I was going.
Roughly.
Maybe he'll take the opportunity to relax for once.
Unlikely, but I can always hope.
He knows better than anyone, I NEED some time to myself, even if it's only a week.
I've been in too many fights lately, I think I might have hurt that last guy pretty bad after...
Who would have thought it?
Little me, swinging for the fences and dropping guys twice my size.
It's amazing what rage can do for you.
Half a year ago I'd have taken a few shots to the gut and dropped to the floor like any normal dork.
But I've won the last five fights I've been in, even when those two guys threw that fluffy at me.

That's how it usually starts, people say something about fluffies or toss one at me.
I wonder if they'll keep it up after what happened to the last guy gets out.
He did throw the first punch when I said something unkind about his mom, but I think the cops are sick of me.
They let me walk away after the first two, considering the circumstances some of 'em must've thought it was the right thing to do.
None of my "victims" parents have said jack yet, they probably know their teenagers are pieces of shit.
Most adults just pretend like I'm not there even though they all know who I am, its not a big town but when
the news hit, it was kind of a huge deal.

I'm getting ahead of myself.

The reason I'm out here is not to hide from the cops, or dad, or to get drunk or any of that crap.
I just really, really need to be alone.
I wasn't ready to say goodbye.
I'm only fifteen, would you be?
Sorry, did it again.
I'll start at the beginning, please don't laugh.
It tends to start fights.

Six months, two weeks and three days ago, my mother was found dead.
She'd fallen down a flight of concrete stairs that lead from the highway overpass foot bridge to the street.
Two hours before she'd left to pick up some groceries and had her arms full of those big brown paper bags.
According to the police mom fractured her skull and it was so bad she never regained consciousness.

A painless death.

That's what they told me, I guess to make me feel a bit better.
They don't know shit about mom though, she'd rather go down kicking and screaming than just close her
eyes and never wake up.
She was found by a jogger about half an hour later or so, like I said it's not a very big town and we live in abig house on the outskirts of it.
The guy that found her said she was being mobbed by fluffies, he noticed her because of the weirdly dark fluffy swarm that was running and playing all around where she lay.
When he approached, they started the usual crap about "munsta commin' wun!" and scattered.
Apparently they were picking through the groceries she'd bought, trying to open bags and eating from broken
jars, boxes and all the fruits mom was carrying.
They even hung around long enough to drag most of it with them as they buggered off into the woods.
That's when he'd realized there was a person hurt and called for help.
It wouldn't have mattered if he was right beside her when it happened, they said she hit her head too hard on the steps to have survived.
It's a long flight of steps, over twenty if I remember right.
I tried going back there once, had to leave once I caught sight of it.
I just had to.

The police broke the news to dad, me and my sister while we sat around wondering where mom was.
Worst fucking day in my life, nothing comes close.
It's still like a fresh punch in the gut whenever I stop and really think about her.
I swear dad's aged ten years in the past seven months.
He almost never takes days off, says we can't afford to stay in the house if he did.
He's probably right, but I've told him a hundred times I wouldn't mind moving in the least.
He won't hear of it though, dad thinks mom would have wanted us to stay in the house we grew up in.
For a while I wondered if that was just an excuse he used to spend more time alone.
But I've seen some of the bills, I never knew how much this place cost.
So I've developed a new appreciation for how hard dad works.
It's kind of his way of coping with what happened.
I'd rather have him around more but I never complain about not seeing him, sometimes I think work is the
only thing keeping dad going.

I've always had an independent streak.
Exploring the wooded areas around the house, riding my bike all over town, I even used to make shitty littlemaps of the surrounding area with a clipboard and grid paper.
I did say I was a dork.
Before all this started I held a day job, just taking stock but the boss knew he could trust me to work alone.
The rest of those fuckwits would take a nap, text or get high without someone breathing down their necks.
It feels like I've gone backwards since mom died.
Quit my job, fights, my grades in the toilet.
I doubt she'd be happy.

I wasn't ready to say goodbye.

My older sister Callie, she took it the worst.
She was mommy's little girl, a year older than me but still a kid in a lot of ways.
She liked reading, cheerleading and you'd never believe it now but swore she was saving herself for marriage.
Then the cops came and told us about mom.

It was like flicking a light switch.

I don't even know where she's living right now, probably crashing on one of her friends couches.
Last time I saw her she was so drunk she couldn't get her key in the door.
Dad was less than happy, but I think he's too broken to yell.
She doesn't listen anyway, all she cares about is getting drunk, getting high and fucking whoever gets her drunk and high.
I want mom back, but Callie needs her.
She hurts so bad she'll do anything to make it stop, damn the consequences.
I miss the goofy, happy sister I used to have.
The one that hid behind me when we watched scary movies and wanted to be a nurse.
When a guy in class called her the school's two wheeled, chain driven pedaling device I dropped him without thinking.
He should have known what I'd do.
It's not like I could tell him he's wrong.

It seems cruel doesn't it?
All these people laughing at me because my mom died.
What kind of asshole would do that?
The same kind that would joke about it on national tv.
Mom's death became headline news for a week.

This is what ruined my family.

"Local woman first known murder victim of fluffy ponies, details at six."


End part 1