This is a short story I began writing a couple years ago and decided to use it as a Grade 10 short story. I do not think it highlights all of my skills, but I wish for you, the Gaian public, to tell me what you think. You may notice some grammar errors and horrible structure, but keep in mind this story is old...and frankly I am a bit to lazy to correct every minor mistake. As for legal issues are concerned, I own the following piece of literature, any plagiarism, theft or modification of the following will result in copyright infringement. The following names and places are purely fictional, any name, object, or place that appears outside this piece is purely coincidental. Aside, I hope you enjoy my short story, Controlled.
Tuesday, the 14th of March, 1973
Dear Diary,
There are some kids at school who like to make fun of me. I don't know why. Whether it is my glasses, this diary I carry around, or whatever. I want it to stop. The worse part is, I'm just a little boy and there's nothing I can do about it. I wish somebody could help me. But nobody wants to stick up for me or even tries to defend me against those big tough bullies. I just wish they would go away!
I WISH THEY WOULD GO AWAY!
I wish they would go away...
It was 4 in the afternoon, on a bright sunny Friday. Nicholas Turret had just walked out of court for the third time this week. It had been his third murder trial. There were no alibis, no defense, and no prosecutions made. When asked to plea, Nicholas responded, "I do not recall anything related to this incident." There were no witnesses, no accusations. Nicholas firmly admitted to the murder, without any knowledge of it happening. It was a strange concept, but people found it brave that he would be so solemn as to take the blame.
The names of the deceased are as followed: Stanley Frand, Reginald Lexus, and George Jensen. These were all the names of men who had previously frequented Nicholas' elementary school when they were children. Unfortunately, when the accused was asked if he knew the casualty, he responded with a solemn, "No." His response was then cross-examined by the members of the jury, who most of them had also gone to Nicholas' previous learning facility, and claimed he was lying. But, it was obvious Nicholas was telling the truth. No man would lie so solemnly and direct. The judge looked straight into the accused forest green eyes and found the defendant innocent. As Nicholas walked off the steps of the court, the wind swayed in his thick black hair. He headed home.
The alarm of the radio clock rang, awaking Nicholas. He lived alone. His mother lived a few blocks away, so if he needed something he could go there. Today was the start of the weekend, and Nicholas was headed there to help his mother go grocery shopping. He got dressed, head out the door, and started walking to make his way to his destination.
He knocked on their door, and walked in.
"Why hello dear," his mother said. He looked at her; Nicholas could tell she was becoming very old.
"How was your trial yesterday?" she asked.
"Fine," he replied, "I was found not guilty. The judge called the case inconclusive."
His mother eyed him strangely.
"Yes well.... you boys had never really gotten along at all, I say its good that they are gone. And even if it was you, I'll always love you," she said with a smile on her face. Nicholas glanced at her and narrowed his eyes.
"Never got along? I don't even know the guys!" he stressed.
His mother nodded silently.
"Which is a matter we must discuss, dear," she said quietly and softly.
"We are not going out to shop, we are going to stay here."
His mother lived alone, his father had left the house one day and never returned, they presumed him to be dead.
Nicholas' eyes narrowed. He nodded slowly as he sat down at the large coffee table where his mother was waiting.
"Your childhood is to horrid to discuss..." she began, "There are things you should know, and other things you are better off not knowing," she said with a certain glimmer of faint hope in her eyes. But she continued to speak.
"Those three children who died.... They were bullies at your old primary school. And I am certain you do not remember them, or anything that happened when you were small, correct?" she asked him with uncertainty.
Nicholas nodded, "No, I remember nothing...why mother?" he responded.
She shook her head in doubt. She bowed her head and said:
"You have suffered such a horrible childhood, and not to mention those three terrors. You had become a nearly heartless person. You were cold, vicious, and revengeful. You had spent countless hours in your diary writing about your day, about how badly you lived. I remember even reading a passage where you had planned to stab your teacher in the back with scissors!" she cried.
Nicholas stared at her in awe. His jaw literally dropped at these words.
"Mother, you cannot be serious! I would never!" he said pounding his fist on the table. His mother, her face covered in tears, began to speak again:
"There is more my son. Much, much more," she said as she rose, and traveled to the other room. She returned with newspaper clippings.
"Read!" she ordered.
Being as Nicholas had suffered so many hardships in the past he did not know about, these newspaper articles were ones that sent his mind in a phase in shock. He could not believe anything he saw, not only with his problem in the schoolyard his mother spoke of, but those outside the schoolyard. Like the time his older teenage brother Harold had died because of a devastating fire at their neighbor's house. He felt so brave as to save the infamous baby trapped in flames. Harold went into the blaze to save the dying child...neither of them came out. The firemen came to extinguish the fire, but they could not extinguish the pain that both families were feeling, there lie one infant, and a teen burnt to a crisp, dark as charcoal, dead. Or maybe when the time his older sister June had left for college. That college in question had been busted for substance abuse and illegal use of drugs. June was sent to prison. Nicholas, not only was he now the only child, but also the youngest child.
These were what the several articles had read. Nicholas could not believe it. In his mind played a movie of all the disasters that had happened, and what he had no recollection of. He clenched a fist, his mind full of rage, his face filled with anger.
"WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME!" he roared, "WHY DO I NOT REMEMBER!" his scream echoed throughout the household like a thunderous shock wave.
"Listen to yourself!" she screamed, "This is why you do not remember! Your anger levels are far to high, whenever something bad happens or to recall a lost memory, you go berserk! What I did, I did out of love! Dr. Bernabus did the procedure entirely! I assure you I did nothing but agree!"
"Agree to what!" shouted her son.
"He erased your memory!"
There then fell a silence. Nicholas sat down, unclenched the fist, and his faced was drained of the anger and red color it had been plagued with.
"Erase my...No, I do not, I cannot believe it!" he exaggerated. His mother shut her eyes and then sat down, and held his hand.
"Yes, it was an experimental cerium, it was supposed to last 30 years. It was administered to when you were eight. You are now thirty-eight. Your mind is slowly regaining it's lost memories, and telling you to get rid of those who caused you most trouble. In this case, those four foul mouthed brats!" she explained. Silence fell once more.
"Four?" he asked.
She nodded
"There is another, he is traveling to town for the funeral. His name is Rocko Guincci. He was the leader of that gang of bullies who terrorized you as a child. He created the world of darkness you plunged yourself in. He is the root of why Dr. Bernabus and I did what we did. And I beg of you! Please, do not kill him! You have done enough. Eventually you will remember and your defense will no longer do! You will be prosecuted son, you will be prosecuted!" tears ran down her face like a waterfall.
Nicholas stood up, making his way towards the door. His mother gave him a pleating look. He shook his head and walked out, his last words were:
"You cannot stop me, Mother, Rocko will die. Tonight!"
Nicholas headed back to his house. It had been the house his mother and him had previously lived in. He made his way to the attic. His mind was slowly regaining its past thoughts as they flood through like a tsunami. Nicholas could remember a box, a box full of small navy blue books, and his old diaries. He could remember keeping diaries as a child to cope with all his bad remembrances. Nicholas ran up to the highest floor, pulled down the string to reveal a pull down staircase, he climbed it, entered the attic, and fumbled around several boxes. He scrambled at every corner, in every nook, every cranny, until he found it: The box of navy blue books. He picked them up and dove himself into it. He fluttered through the pages and randomly landed his stubby finger on a page.
It read:
Friday the 17th of March 1973
Dear Diary,
This is the start of yet a depressing day...Mom hasn't said anything yet but I'm sure she wants to bring me to that nut case Dr. Bernabus to talk about my ‘behavior'. I don't have a 'behavior'. It's not my fault! It's all Rocko's! He's ruining my life and I'm so stubborn trying to defend myself that I'm to afraid to tell my own mother he's bothering me. But somebody will come...somebody will help me. And if nobody does...I'll just have to help myself...but I don't want to...I'm too little...too weak...
What can a little boy do when he falls into a black hole of despair and can't get out? To be honest I don't know what the answer is...but in my opinion, the answer is he doesn't do anything...because the world is just one big black hole...that sucks you in when your not looking, plays tricks on you, makes sure you suffer. And most of all...it makes you wish that you never existed in this life. This ‘black hole' is the closest thing I have to god...because right now it is controlling my life...
The anger rose in Nicholas. His heart pulsated, his rage, rising at a tremendous force. He closed his eyes in frustration. He could now clearly see Rocko in his mind. He could see like a broken video exactly how Rocko had tortured him, how he had abused him both physically and verbally,
"No," he whispered, "He doesn't deserve it...he was only a child. We were fools when we were children. I especially...willingly letting my mother dose me that mind erasing potion...We were fools...mere fools..." the man said has his control regained and his rage subsided. He started to breath slower. Each breath was another bad memory gone. As Nicholas focussed on other items, his thoughts went in different directions, steering him away from his morbid and malicious thoughts.
The telephone rang. Nicholas got up from his couch and turned off the television. He answered.
"Mr. Turret?" said the man on the other end.
"Yes," Nicholas replied
"This is Mr. Scott Willms, your newly appointed lawyer, Mr. Turret, you have been asked to return to court. Judge Charles would like you have a few words with you on your latest trial," Mr. Willms said.
"Latest trial?" Nicholas asked, "Why it was concluded, he ruled it inconclusively!"
"I'm sorry, but you have been called back to the municipal court regarding a fourth murder. Rocko Guincci was found dead at his hotel room last night. He was said to be friends with Mr. Frand, Mr. Lexus, and Mr. Jensen. The ones you had also been accused of murdering by their wives and friends," he explained.
"Yes, I remember, Scott, but I do not know any Mr. Guincci," Nicholas replied, his heart beating a little faster.
"Mr. Turret, I may be your defense lawyer, but I have spoken to several contacts, including your family doctor, who he too says that you are the reason Mr. Guincci is dead," Mr. Willms' tone of voice began to grow more serious.
Nicholas' eyes opened wide. He grasped his hand on the phone much harder as his palm started to sweat.
"Which doctor..." he said hesitantly.
"Julius Bernabus," replied.
Nicholas' jaw dropped as he slammed the phone on the receiver. The phone rang again, and he ignored it. It had transferred to a message were Scott had told him to be at in the courtroom by 6 o'clock tomorrow night.
The next day, Nicholas presented himself in court.
"Mr. Turret," Judge Charles said acknowledging his arrival.
Nicholas nodded, "Good afternoon Judge Charles," he replied.
Judge Charles banged his gavel to indicate the court was now in session, "Mr. Nicholas Turret, you have been accused of yet another murder, the murder of Rocko Guincci. How do you plead?" he asked.
"Not guilty, your honor, from what I hear the time of the murder was approximately 8:15 last night. I was sitting on couch watching television. I could have not committed the murder," Nicholas retaliated, conserving his defense.
"Mr. Willms, do you have anything else to say in his defense?" Judge Charles asked.
"No," Scott replied.
Nicholas side glanced Scott with a furious look. He yelled:
"NO! No is the only thing you can say? Don't you have anything to help me?"
Judge Charles gave him a slightly odd look. He began to speak.
"The innocent do not depend on the opinions of others..." he began, "The guilty strive on backup and second hand opinions to help them in the house of justice. You sir, have obviously proven you are guilty," Judge Charles said raising his arm, to bang his gavel and give his ruling.
Nicholas stared in awe; it was if he had become frozen. He had ruined it. He was going to jail for a crime he didn't even commit. He did not commit the other crimes and the ending was never this fatal, "I find the defendant-"
"-STOP!" yelled a man bursting through the doors. It was Dr. Bernabus.
"Julius! Why are you interrupting this session!" Judge Charles shouted.
"Because this man is indeed innocent. But Mr. Guincci, on the other hand," Dr. Bernabus said.
"Mr. Guincci is dead!" ordered the Judge.
"Is he?" the doctor asked placing his arm around Scott Willms.
Judge Charles looked pointlessly at the lawyer; "He did nothing!" the man called out with certainty.
"Look closely Charles. Can you not see? Mr. Turret was set up for every murder and in fact did not do any of it! None of the casualties are even dead! They were all alibis, corpses stolen from my morgue!" Julius explained.
"You cannot justify that fact Mr. Bernabus!" the judge snapped back.
"I have noticed over the past week, bodies have been disappearing, and the one you call Rocko Guincci scheduled an appointment with me yesterday, and is in this room right now, in fact, I have my arm around him," the doctor said seriously completing the argument.
Scott's eyes widened. There was nothing he could do. Nothing he could say. He looked around. Everyone eyed him suspiciously. He ducked underneath Dr. Bernabus' arm and ran towards the window. He jumped through it. The glass shattered as the noise scattered across the room like bugs on the ceiling. The lawyer ran off on the moist grass. The trial remained once more, inconclusive. Nicholas, Dr. Bernabus, Judge Charles, and the remainder of the jury retreated.
That night, Nicholas sat in his bed, wondering about what had happened. He dove himself into a whirlpool of thoughts. He closed his eyes, and replayed the entire scene at the court. He could not believe that his lawyer was indeed Rocko, the old bully. How could he had not recognized him? How could he have not known? If his memories were truly returning, wouldn't he have noticed, "There are only two explanations," he said to himself:
"Either my mind is not returning, or that wasn't Rocko."
The man feel asleep, awaiting the new day.
It was Monday, the start of a new week. Nicholas awoke to the sun shining through his window on that hot summer day. The thought of yesterday still surged through his mind like a uncontrollable burn. No matter what, he could only think of the day before. He decided to go back to the attic and read some more pages from his previous diaries. He picked up the most recent one, set in 1984.
It read:
Wednesday, the 28th June 1984
Dear Diary:
It has been 10 long years since I had been to the doctor's office and saw Dr. Bernabus. I sure don't remember anything of the visit. My mom said I hit my head going into the office. I'm sure there's more she's keeping from me. Like the other day, she was so happy about reading something in the obituaries. It was so weird it scared me. She said it was part of my bad childhood, and she put it away in some box. Funny, I don't remember having such a bad childhood...I don't remember my childhood at all! She said she put the box away in a secret spot in the attic. I tried looking for it several times, but just gave up. I didn't care. I'm planning on moving out shortly anyway. Well...time to put these books I cherish away. These damn diaries will get me nowhere in life. Well, adios my friend.
Signed,
Paul Turret.
Nicholas dropped the diary
"Paul Turret," he said, "Who the hell is he!"
Nicholas re-read the entry carefully, and looked around the attic for a box containing newspaper clippings. He found it. Inside, it held the obituaries for Stanley Frand, Reginald Lexus, Rocko Guincci, and George Jensen.
"No way," Nicholas said, "I was the one accused of killing them...but they died 20 years ago!" Nicholas was now confused. He found Paul Turret's birth certificate. It matched his completely. Suddenly, he heard a creaking noise. He turned around to find his mother on the top step to the attic.
"So you know," she said.
"Know what!" Nicholas shouted.
"Your true identity. You are Paul Turret. The mind erasing cerium wasn't enough on its first try, 10 years later we had to administer it to you again. But the effects were too strong. Not only did you lose the childhood, but your entire past and memory up to that date. We wanted to start you off fresh. We gave you a new name, a new life to live, we wanted you to know that when your memory returned that the people you wanted to kill were still here so you wouldn't have to constantly seek revenge for the rest of your life!" she explained
"Tell me the truth, what is going on?" Nicholas asked as he started approach his mother.
"Your life is a lie son. One big set up. You see, what we injected you with was so powerful; we needed to start up your life again. In doing so, we needed to bring back those who you had the ever-so-powerful rage to destroy. We brought them back, and made them seem like they were dead. We accused you, to make you feel strong. But one part of the deal did not go according to plan," she said lowering her head.
"According to plan? All these murder cases? My entire life, it was just one big plan to let me live again in the way I was supposed to? And what do you mean something didn't go right, huh? Everything seems wrong to me!" Nicholas' rage started to rise once more as he made his way to an old cutlery set, lodged in the corner of the attic. He removed a rusty old knife.
"Scott Willms AKA Rocko Guincci. He was hired as an actor. We knew you would eventually seek revenge on Rocko, and set it up that he was coming into town for the funeral of the other ‘dead' people. He spilled our deal to Julius. The doctor reacted. He wanted to put that man away; he thought what he was doing was sick, and that you should live your life! He was the one who made you forget everything, but then denied my efforts to rebuild you brick by brick! When Julius made his appearance in court, everything was ruined!"
Nicholas' mothers voice was full of bitterness and remorse. Yet at the same time held hints of lunacy.
"And here we are now. You know everything. So what are you going to do? Kill Rocko? By all means! He's rolling in his grave right now!"
Nicholas lowered his head and smiled. He clenched the knife tighter, and approached his mother.
"No," he said still walking, sliding across the wooden floor. He picked his mother up by her throat, and held her against the wall. His eyes, coldly, stared deep into hers. His mother suddenly froze like a statue, waiting the next moments to pass. They did...but ever so slowly.
"All this time you've wanted me to get rid of my problems, kill the people who stood in my way," Nicholas started, "Well guess what Mamma, you're the only one standing in my way of living a normal life," he said, his grip on her neck becoming tighter. Nicholas' mother opened her mouth to try and gasp for air. Nicholas started to speak once more:
"You had to give me that cerium, you had to retrace my life, and you had to create this big plan. Well guess what?" he said, grinning, " IT FAILED!" his shout could have nearly shattered the windows.
"I am not the slightest bit happy as you would like me to be, and the only time I will be, is when, not Rocko dies, but when you do!" Nicholas took his other hand holding the knife and raised it in the air, he then came down and jabbed his mother in the heart. He retracted the knife, and let her corpse fall to the ground.
He closed up the attic, and made his way to the telephone. He called his late mother's landlord.
"Mr. Frinack? It's Nicholas, Miriam's son. I'm afraid my mom died in her sleep last night. We've already claimed the body and removed it from the building. I will be removing all the belongings from the house, and it shall be put up for rent," Nicholas didn't have time to let the landlord speak as he hung up the phone.
The next day, Nicholas went to his mother's house, took out everything he needed, and left. When he returned to his house, he poured gasoline over the floors, and lit a match. All his lost memories remained lost as they all shriveled and burnt. He thought that he would start off new, live his own life, without anybody controlling him. Nicholas Turret was a free man. No longer a puppet. Nobody no longer pulled his strings. He opened his door, went outside, and got into his car. He drove out into the rising sun.
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