written by David Anglin

Daily Creative Writing Practice - He dragged His Legs [ Short Story]

Daily Creative Writing Practice - He dragged His Legs [ Short Story]

My daily practice of bringing depth to simple sentences...

He Dragged His Legs

One of the worse things about having premonitions about a person is that sometimes those premonitions come back to haunt you.
If your gut warns you of someone then you best listen, or you'll end up finding yourself in a position like my own, with two blown knees, broken teeth, a cracked jaw a broken rib and a broken heart.

You see I've always been a part of my daughter Pauline's life. I watched her grow from an all-knowing little madam, into the beautiful, intelligent and warm-hearted women she'd become.
Not to blow our own horn but I and her mother had really done a great job in raising her. As at the age of just 21 she really has great prospects ahead of her. But thinking about it maybe we had raised her too well. Maybe protected her too much. As her warm nature developed by tender love and care had in a sense made her naive. Naive in a way to certain darker aspects of the world, to certain darker aspects of the human psyche.

I remember when she first introduced Patrick to us, my back had instantly been up. To be honest I still can't believe she even gave him the time of day, that she couldn't read past his mask. But I suppose that's where her naivety came into play.

But for me I'd instantly seen past the mask, his dark eyes revealed way too much, it was like looking at a vengeful spirit in turmoil. I wasn't as naive as my daughter as I was a well-traveled man. Very long in the teeth, for better or for worse. So I instantly spotted a rotten apple, an apple so rotten that just being within the vicinity of its pungent odor, would have you instantly keeling over and dying a hundred deaths.

Not mincing my words, and stopping him from stepping past the sanctuary of my home I asked him with a voice thick with menace " So what's your intention for my daughter?"

That simple question seemed to throw him off guard as he stumbled through a basic answer. "Well you know, erm, like be there for her and that, you get what I mean?" he said this part with a cheesy grin, but the look of thunder, lightning, and brimstone that he saw in my face, quickly put an end to that cheesy grin.

I responded with no humor in my voice, my daughter tried to protest but the look I gave her made her humble her protest to screamed words within the confines of her mind.

"So how do you intend to be there for my daughter?" I put my finger to my lips as I said this

He wobbled out a response " Well you know, like being there for her and that." He again tried to laugh this off but as we looked deep into each other's eyes and deeper into each other's souls. A mental sparring session ensued, circulating slowly around each other, the young wolf sizing the power of an old alpha. Teeth bared, long, yellow and sharp.

I told him "I think you best leave." My daughter erupted into an outcry of what do I mean by that, that she brought him to meet me and her mother, but that I'm being so disrespectful.
The young wolf cut her short, he had a slight smile to his face as he said "it's alright babes, I'll leave. Don't worry, next time your father sees me he'll invite me in with open arms."
He went off with my daughter close in hot pursuit who shot me daggers of ice as she looked over her shoulders. If looks could kill, that day my daughter would have sent me to an early grave. But did I care? No. As that's the job of any proper parent and any proper father, to protect his offspring, at all costs from any serious threat, whether they see it or don't.

Within a month she'd come to me, her eye's red and puffy from tears, I'd instantly held her, embracing her in a warm hug, letting her rest her head upon my shoulder as she told me that I'd been right. That Patrick or whatever he called himself, really was a bad breed of a person. I held her even tighter just glad to know she'd finally realized, and in a temporary glitch of the matrix making a silent vow to kill him if I ever found out that he'd laid a hand upon my daughter...

Like most traumatic events the day started out as normal, I think real life always starts out as ordinary. Not like in films and how there's always a long crafted and intricate build-up before the main event.
For me though or us should I say, nothing strange had happened, I'd been sitting down watching UFC, and thinking how they wouldn't want me to get into that ring, about old man! I'd show them :D (Anyhow before I get sidetracked). So I was relaxing watching Youtube and waiting for this delivery to arrive. Pauline was upstairs doing whatever it is that takes her 2 hours to get ready for anything while the wife was out shopping for a new dress as she had an engagement party to attend that weekend.

So I end up hearing a knock at the door, but I think nothing of it as I'm expecting a delivery and all I think is that they're just doing late deliveries, as it's well after 8 pm. So I open the door and before I even have time to react, to even set myself in some form of stance. He's pushed through the door and shoots me in both kneecaps, one after the other. Bam Bam.
Even if I wanted to stop myself from falling I couldn't, my legs instantly buckled from having no support from the knee. I fell down in a howl of pain and splattering of blood, that resembled abstract artwork against the fresh paint of the white hallway. Though I did try to grab for him and claw for his eye ( Well I wanted to anyway) as it was that moment that I realised that the intruder was Patrick.
Watch him to me "Hey Mr Benson, told you I'd be back." Right then and there if I could off I would have torn out his heart. I couldn't believe he could so casually break into my home. Break into my sanctuary, break the security that over years I'd built up for Pauline and my wife. For this punk to come shatter it all within moments. I was so pissed, I actually felt my blood boil, like if I was next to a mirror or in a closed car the whole of the window would be steamed up.

Even though I was in so much pain I went for him, I reached out to grab his leg to bring him down into a leg lock, but from behind him he brings out this massive cricket bat and proceeds to wack it across my face. I feel at least three of my teeth crack. I feel the grit in my mouth from them as they crumble and are washed down my own throat in a wet trail of blood.
I cried out in agony as he hits again with no remorse, with no conscience, across my head, my back each blow weakening my body. Until the last hit causes me to draw breath in sharp agony as the impact breaks my rib. Imagine every time I draw breath I get this terrible pain, excruciating as it travels up my left side in electrified shocks.

For the first time ever I felt broken. This feeling only got worse as I was dragged by my hands into my front room, imagine being dragged in your own house. The feeling only got worse when Pauline who must have heard the commotion, came downstairs to inspect and found her father, her protector, laid out as a bloody mess within his own house.
I couldn't even look her in her eyes. I couldn't because if I did, I would have broken down and cried, as I felt like I'd let her down. That I'd failed her in the one thing that as a father I never should. I failed to be her protector.

She rushed to me in sobbing heaps.

"Daddy??? Daddy???"
I couldn't answer. Not just due to the pain, but due to shame, as I could hear her as a child now. Her as just a little infant, who would run to me in fear, when just a dog would bark at her and she'd seek refuge and protection within my arms. I'd never felt so low in my life.

I watched as she turned and screamed at the now smiling Patrick.
"What are you doing here!? I haven't talked or been in touch with you for months!?"
With a sly grin that showcased the triangle shape of his mustache, he said: "I thought we had something special babes, something worth fighting for." She looked at him shocked, her face just couldn't comprehend the words that flowed so freely from his mouth. She became visibly upset, tears streaming down her face.
"Something worth fighting for! Something worth fighting for! Are you serious! You tried to rape me because I told you I'm not ready!" The pain in her voice was as clear as day.

I swear down my pain instantly subsided, the pain was no longer there. It was replaced by rage. Rage in its purest form. A rage that engulfed and consumed troubled souls like my own. In fact, a rage that would more than just engulf souls it would engulf the world, in its madness, and I was the heir to this madness.
Now imagine how I felt when I heard him reply "And I told you I was sorry, you need to let it go so that we can start again."
If I had to swallow or hold in my mouth burning acid, like a sulfuric acid, just so that I could spit it at him to burn away his face, believe me when I say I wouldn't hesitate, I'd risk it all just to see him burn. Hopefully ending with him burning in hell.

My daughter than screams at him "GET OUT! GET OUT BEFORE I CALL THE POLICE!"
But when he hears that, it's like he goes mad, because I actually see his eyes go wild, see his nose flare as he reaches for my daughter, my little precious Pauline and punches her into a crumpled heap.

That's it, Thats's bloody it! I no longer feel anything, I'm now totally consumed by rage. In fact not consumed, I'm possessed by rage. Like an outer body experience, I'm no longer in the vessel of my body. My actions are no longer mine, but the actions of this rage demon which possesses my body, and I joke not when I tell you that I dragged my legs and grab onto his leg with so much force, that I feel the power surging through my being. He gets his gun again and goes to shoot me. But God's on my side as the gun jam's, and knowing this is my only opportunity I grab him in close than bite at his leg. I bite with all my might as he screams in pain, dropping his weapons as he follows to the ground heavily.
I can taste his blood in my mouth, feel it leaking out around the gaps in my teeth, seeping down my own throat. If I must drink the blood of my enemies as a grave warning than I'll drink endlessly, like as if its the holy communion and the blood of Christ. He's gonna learn today. With my other hand, I bunch it into a tight fist, then proceed to bash down on to him in a hammer fist strike. I strike down on his groin to take the air and battle from him, he's instantly deflated the fight blown out of him as all he wants to do is nurse his manhood. I give another blow. A blow that I hope will shatter his manhood, so he's unable to spread his cursed seeds along the land.
I then proceed to strike down anywhere I can reach, his stomach, chest, face. I'm now all over him. I feed him my pain, I show him what my hell looks like. Show him how dark my soul can go especially when thinking about what he tried to do to my daughter.

Maybe my mind snapped I don't know, as all I remember was my daughter saying "Daddy stop! it's enough, it's enough." The last I recall is pushing my thumbs into his eye...

So yeah that's what happened. Or what happens when you invite vampires into your home. Sooner or later they come back looking for blood...

But anyhow Pete I appreciate you checking in on the family while I'm away. My solicitor says that due to the circumstances I should get out soon. So look after yourself and again thanks for your help. You're a true friend.

Love and Blessings


Jerry - A dark, gritty thought provoking look into our modern day crisis. Buy the ebook for just 99p by clicking here
To read a preview of Jerry please click here


Photo by Daniel Jensen on Unsplash



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Words and Art. Art and words. My stories will make you laugh, will make you cry. Provoke anger, cause distress. But most importantly my tales will get you thinking in hopes of bringing around real change...?

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