Okay, my friends, I figured it has been too long since I did my last writing prompt. I may actually come back to this one, and make it longer. I have some other cool ideas that I could see working, and I sort of like this idea. If I don't, however, then at least I have this much. I call this story, "The Game". And always, please excuse any spelling, or grammatical errors. Thanks!
I'm not really sure who started it. We think we remember things exactly as they were, but our minds play tricks on us. I can close my eyes and convince myself that...
... the entire thing was just a bad dream. Every game that we played, and every night that was spent acting out this sick horror. But when I open my eyes, the proof of it is right in front of me. I could close my eyes again, but there really is no point. After a few moments, even with my eyes closed, it still comes back in some way.
I guess we were in our twenties when we started playing the "game". I put "game" in quotes, because to be honest, calling it a game somehow makes it even worse. That first time, there were still four of us: Jonesy, Melda, Asther, and myself. Now, I'm the last of us. The other three are dead. Jonesy died just last night. Melda, and Asther both died some time ago.
Sometimes in my dreams, I can still hear Melda's sweet voice. I loved her. I loved her so very much. I would have done anything for her. I would do anything to take it all back. But I guess that you can't take things back. They're in the past, where you hope that they stay dead and buried, but sometimes things don't work out that way.
It was a Sunday night, and we were at Jonesy's house. I can still hear the record player on, playing out side two of The Beatles' "Abbey Road" album. It was one of those albums that we all used to like to get high, and listen to. I don't know why this night had to be different, but we weren't paying attention to the album. We were all jokingly coming up with the "game".
The rules of the game were pretty simple: Someone would blurt out the first thought that they had in their mind, and the person to their left would have to act it out. No matter what it was. If they didn't act it out, and this is the first sick part of the game, the next person up had to push them off the bridge. The stakes were pretty high, and they didn't follow through, both would have to die.
I know what you're thinking: Why in the hell would anyone carry out the act? Well, to be honest, I don't know. Maybe part of it was the amount of drugs we had in our system that first night, or maybe we had just killed so many brain cells already, that nobody was really at home upstairs. Whatever the reason, Melda died that first night.
I do know that Jonesy was the first one to be given the random action, that he had to carry out. It was pretty simple. You have to remember that we were very high, and initially it was all just for a laugh. I was the one that came up with the first action. I can still hear myself speak up, and I still hate myself for it. Not because it was terrible, but because it got this entire damn train set in motion.
"Go outside, and stick your tongue to the light post." I remember laughing uncontrollably as soon as I said it. The other three laughed right along with me. It was so ridiculous, and so right. It was very cold outside, and it seemed like the perfect sort of dare.
"Too easy", Jonesy said, and immediately hopped up, pulled on his shoes, and went out the door. There was snow falling that night. Not a lot, but it was starting to stick. It's funny what the mind remembers, I guess.
To his credit, Jonesy went right up to the light pole, and licked that thing like a junkie who really thought licking a toad would give him a high. And just like in that long ago Christmas movie, Jonesy's tongue got stuck to the damn thing. We were all still laughing at that point, even Jonesy. He wasn't laughing as much a moment later when I grabbed his head, yanked it backwards, and he left a nice chunk of his tongue behind on that pole.
He looked at me in shock, and pain. The rest of us were still laughing, as Jonesy brought his hand up to his face, grabbed his injured tongue, and brought his bloody hand up to his eyes.
"You ath-hole", he yelled at me. We were all rolling with laughter at that point, and after a few moments, even Jonesy saw the humor in what was going on, and joined us all. Like I said, we all had enough drugs in our system to get Keith Richards buzzed. It was that bad!
I guess he was pretty angry when he blurted out the next action, directed at Melda. "Light old man Jackson's house on fire." Fire just a moment we all stood there staring at him, as if he were crazy, but after a moment we started laughing again. The only difference this time was that Jonesy was not laughing. He just stood there, blood dripping down his tongue, staring at us.
It was Melda who said something first, "Are you serious? Burn someone's house down?"
"Yes, I'm very serious. Light old man Jackson's house on fire."
At this point none of us were laughing any longer. This was such a crazy demand that we weren't sure what to think any longer.
"I am not going to do that," Melda said.
"Then I'm sorry, but you know what has to happen," he said.
She was stunned. Hell, we all were. I think that even Jonesy was a bit stunned.
"This is stupid", she said, as she turned to walk away.
"Don't you fucking take one more step", Jonesy shouted out to her. "You will either burn down old man Jackson's house, I we will take you to the bridge, and push you the fuck off!" Jonesy was angry. I had never seen him so angry, or crazy looking in my life. And it wasn't just the blood that was now damn near flowing out of his mouth. There was something different about this man that I had known since we were kids. It was like part of his sanity was stored in that tiny bit of tongue.
"I'm not listening to this shit", Melda said, and turned to walk away.
And that's when things got to the next level of crazy. To this day, I still don't remember Jonesy grabbing that tire iron, or lifting it over his head, but he had it, and brought it down with such sickening strength, that when it connected with Melda's head, she went down like a sack of rotten potatoes. That's another sound that I can still hear in my head. That moment when the tire iron made contact with her head will follow me into hell.
"What the hell," Asther screamed into the frozen night sky. To this day, I still wish that someone had heard that scream, but the night remained quiet. The only sound was the sound of Jonesy breathing hard, Asther's strained sobs, and the sound of me soiling myself.
"Pick her up," Jonesy yelled at me.
"Wha-what?" I guess I was still in shock.
"I said pick her up, you lazy sack of shit!"
I couldn't even think in that moment. Jonesy had just lost his mind, and to be honest, mind wasn't exactly staying put. I could feel my sanity slowly flow from my panicked mind. I'm not sure if I ever recovered from that. I don't think that I ever will. I don't know what made me bend over, and pick Melda up off of the ground. I think it was maybe the shock of it all that put me in motion. I think now that it was probably the crazy look on Jonesy's face that put me into motion.
I really don't remember the walk to the bridge that night. The walk wasn't that far, and it was one that we had made hundreds upon hundreds of times, but I don't remember anything about. The only thing that I do remember was the moment that we go to the railing of the bridge, and Melda opening her eyes. She tried to speak, but no words would come.
"You knew the rules of the game, bitch," Jonesy told her. "They were very simple, do what you are told, or get pushed off the bridge. Well, clearly you don't plan on standing on your own, so my good friend Luke here, is going to throw you over the side, aren't you Luke."
"I don't..."
"You can't do this, Luke," Asther said in a panic. "You can't really do this!"
"Shut up, or you'll be joining her," he barked at my beautiful girlfriend. I don't know if it was just a trick of the light or what, but I swear that I saw her hair go from a golden blonde, to gray in that moment. Thankfully she did shut up, or I'm fairly sure that Jonesy would have killed her. He was much stronger than I was, and he wasn't holding a bleeding woman in his arms. "Now, Luke. Throw her off this fucking bridge, or join her."
God help me, I threw her off of the bridge. I don't know how high that bridge was, or how strong the current was, but I do know that she would probably have died, even if she weren't half out of it. The water grabbed her like a hungry alligator grabbing its prey, and it pulled her under. We saw her head bob above the water for just one moment, and then she was gone. The rest of the night is lost to me. I passed out then.
The next morning I awoke in Jonesy's basement with a terrible pain in my head. I never knew what happened, but I know that that pain has never fully gone away.
"Good morning, Luke," he said, sounding like it was the most beautiful morning that had ever been. "Did you sleep well?"
"What's going on?"
"Well, we had a bit of a sleepover last night, after Melda had her little accident." At that, much of the previous night had come back to me. He could tell by the look on my face that it did. "Good, I see that you are with us. That's very good."
"Us," I started to say. And that's when I noticed that Asther was tied to a chair in the corner, blood caked around a wound in her forehead. "Asther," I yelled, and tried to get up, but Jonesy knocked me back to the floor.
"I wouldn't do that, Luke, you had a bit of an accident, and you may be feeling a little bit whoozy." I'll never forget that look on his face. It was the face of someone who has finally found something that they really enjoyed doing, and they weren't going to give it up. To be honest, it was the face of a killer, and I wasn't really keen on joining Melda somewhere in the Missouri river.
"Why?" I asked Jonesy.
"I'll tell you why," he answered. "Because we made up a very simple game, with very simple rules, and she violated those rules. And the thing is, I really like the game, Luke. I like it a lot. In fact, us three are going to continue playing this game, once a week, until I decide that we are done playing."
"Are you crazy, Jonesy," I cried out.
"You know something, I believe that I may be just a little crazy. And you know something else, I think I like it. I think I like it a lot," he said, laughing his way through it. "We are going to play this game once a week, each of us getting a turn, until I say that it is over. The last one alive is the winner of the game. Now, I hope that I win, but I'll understand if I don't. I just want us to have a lot of fun."
After he finished talking, he hit me again. I don't know how long I was out that time. I think I've been out since that day, if I'm being honest. We played so many rounds of that damn game. We did so many very awful things along the way. Things that I'm just not willing to tell. Not now, and not ever.
I won the game. I am the ultimate winner. And do you know what I won? Nothing. I won absolutely nothing. Nothing, that is, unless you count a lifetime of regret, and worry. Worry that we would be caught. Worried that Jonesy would kill me. Worry that I would be condemned to hell. But you know something, I think I'm ready for hell. I think I'm more than ready for it. So consider this my confession, and my goodbye.
I'll see you in hell, Jonesy. I'll be seeing you very soon.
I'm not really sure who started it. We think we remember things exactly as they were, but our minds play tricks on us. I can close my eyes and convince myself that...
... the entire thing was just a bad dream. Every game that we played, and every night that was spent acting out this sick horror. But when I open my eyes, the proof of it is right in front of me. I could close my eyes again, but there really is no point. After a few moments, even with my eyes closed, it still comes back in some way.
I guess we were in our twenties when we started playing the "game". I put "game" in quotes, because to be honest, calling it a game somehow makes it even worse. That first time, there were still four of us: Jonesy, Melda, Asther, and myself. Now, I'm the last of us. The other three are dead. Jonesy died just last night. Melda, and Asther both died some time ago.
Sometimes in my dreams, I can still hear Melda's sweet voice. I loved her. I loved her so very much. I would have done anything for her. I would do anything to take it all back. But I guess that you can't take things back. They're in the past, where you hope that they stay dead and buried, but sometimes things don't work out that way.
It was a Sunday night, and we were at Jonesy's house. I can still hear the record player on, playing out side two of The Beatles' "Abbey Road" album. It was one of those albums that we all used to like to get high, and listen to. I don't know why this night had to be different, but we weren't paying attention to the album. We were all jokingly coming up with the "game".
The rules of the game were pretty simple: Someone would blurt out the first thought that they had in their mind, and the person to their left would have to act it out. No matter what it was. If they didn't act it out, and this is the first sick part of the game, the next person up had to push them off the bridge. The stakes were pretty high, and they didn't follow through, both would have to die.
I know what you're thinking: Why in the hell would anyone carry out the act? Well, to be honest, I don't know. Maybe part of it was the amount of drugs we had in our system that first night, or maybe we had just killed so many brain cells already, that nobody was really at home upstairs. Whatever the reason, Melda died that first night.
I do know that Jonesy was the first one to be given the random action, that he had to carry out. It was pretty simple. You have to remember that we were very high, and initially it was all just for a laugh. I was the one that came up with the first action. I can still hear myself speak up, and I still hate myself for it. Not because it was terrible, but because it got this entire damn train set in motion.
"Go outside, and stick your tongue to the light post." I remember laughing uncontrollably as soon as I said it. The other three laughed right along with me. It was so ridiculous, and so right. It was very cold outside, and it seemed like the perfect sort of dare.
"Too easy", Jonesy said, and immediately hopped up, pulled on his shoes, and went out the door. There was snow falling that night. Not a lot, but it was starting to stick. It's funny what the mind remembers, I guess.
To his credit, Jonesy went right up to the light pole, and licked that thing like a junkie who really thought licking a toad would give him a high. And just like in that long ago Christmas movie, Jonesy's tongue got stuck to the damn thing. We were all still laughing at that point, even Jonesy. He wasn't laughing as much a moment later when I grabbed his head, yanked it backwards, and he left a nice chunk of his tongue behind on that pole.
He looked at me in shock, and pain. The rest of us were still laughing, as Jonesy brought his hand up to his face, grabbed his injured tongue, and brought his bloody hand up to his eyes.
"You ath-hole", he yelled at me. We were all rolling with laughter at that point, and after a few moments, even Jonesy saw the humor in what was going on, and joined us all. Like I said, we all had enough drugs in our system to get Keith Richards buzzed. It was that bad!
I guess he was pretty angry when he blurted out the next action, directed at Melda. "Light old man Jackson's house on fire." Fire just a moment we all stood there staring at him, as if he were crazy, but after a moment we started laughing again. The only difference this time was that Jonesy was not laughing. He just stood there, blood dripping down his tongue, staring at us.
It was Melda who said something first, "Are you serious? Burn someone's house down?"
"Yes, I'm very serious. Light old man Jackson's house on fire."
At this point none of us were laughing any longer. This was such a crazy demand that we weren't sure what to think any longer.
"I am not going to do that," Melda said.
"Then I'm sorry, but you know what has to happen," he said.
She was stunned. Hell, we all were. I think that even Jonesy was a bit stunned.
"This is stupid", she said, as she turned to walk away.
"Don't you fucking take one more step", Jonesy shouted out to her. "You will either burn down old man Jackson's house, I we will take you to the bridge, and push you the fuck off!" Jonesy was angry. I had never seen him so angry, or crazy looking in my life. And it wasn't just the blood that was now damn near flowing out of his mouth. There was something different about this man that I had known since we were kids. It was like part of his sanity was stored in that tiny bit of tongue.
"I'm not listening to this shit", Melda said, and turned to walk away.
And that's when things got to the next level of crazy. To this day, I still don't remember Jonesy grabbing that tire iron, or lifting it over his head, but he had it, and brought it down with such sickening strength, that when it connected with Melda's head, she went down like a sack of rotten potatoes. That's another sound that I can still hear in my head. That moment when the tire iron made contact with her head will follow me into hell.
"What the hell," Asther screamed into the frozen night sky. To this day, I still wish that someone had heard that scream, but the night remained quiet. The only sound was the sound of Jonesy breathing hard, Asther's strained sobs, and the sound of me soiling myself.
"Pick her up," Jonesy yelled at me.
"Wha-what?" I guess I was still in shock.
"I said pick her up, you lazy sack of shit!"
I couldn't even think in that moment. Jonesy had just lost his mind, and to be honest, mind wasn't exactly staying put. I could feel my sanity slowly flow from my panicked mind. I'm not sure if I ever recovered from that. I don't think that I ever will. I don't know what made me bend over, and pick Melda up off of the ground. I think it was maybe the shock of it all that put me in motion. I think now that it was probably the crazy look on Jonesy's face that put me into motion.
I really don't remember the walk to the bridge that night. The walk wasn't that far, and it was one that we had made hundreds upon hundreds of times, but I don't remember anything about. The only thing that I do remember was the moment that we go to the railing of the bridge, and Melda opening her eyes. She tried to speak, but no words would come.
"You knew the rules of the game, bitch," Jonesy told her. "They were very simple, do what you are told, or get pushed off the bridge. Well, clearly you don't plan on standing on your own, so my good friend Luke here, is going to throw you over the side, aren't you Luke."
"I don't..."
"You can't do this, Luke," Asther said in a panic. "You can't really do this!"
"Shut up, or you'll be joining her," he barked at my beautiful girlfriend. I don't know if it was just a trick of the light or what, but I swear that I saw her hair go from a golden blonde, to gray in that moment. Thankfully she did shut up, or I'm fairly sure that Jonesy would have killed her. He was much stronger than I was, and he wasn't holding a bleeding woman in his arms. "Now, Luke. Throw her off this fucking bridge, or join her."
God help me, I threw her off of the bridge. I don't know how high that bridge was, or how strong the current was, but I do know that she would probably have died, even if she weren't half out of it. The water grabbed her like a hungry alligator grabbing its prey, and it pulled her under. We saw her head bob above the water for just one moment, and then she was gone. The rest of the night is lost to me. I passed out then.
The next morning I awoke in Jonesy's basement with a terrible pain in my head. I never knew what happened, but I know that that pain has never fully gone away.
"Good morning, Luke," he said, sounding like it was the most beautiful morning that had ever been. "Did you sleep well?"
"What's going on?"
"Well, we had a bit of a sleepover last night, after Melda had her little accident." At that, much of the previous night had come back to me. He could tell by the look on my face that it did. "Good, I see that you are with us. That's very good."
"Us," I started to say. And that's when I noticed that Asther was tied to a chair in the corner, blood caked around a wound in her forehead. "Asther," I yelled, and tried to get up, but Jonesy knocked me back to the floor.
"I wouldn't do that, Luke, you had a bit of an accident, and you may be feeling a little bit whoozy." I'll never forget that look on his face. It was the face of someone who has finally found something that they really enjoyed doing, and they weren't going to give it up. To be honest, it was the face of a killer, and I wasn't really keen on joining Melda somewhere in the Missouri river.
"Why?" I asked Jonesy.
"I'll tell you why," he answered. "Because we made up a very simple game, with very simple rules, and she violated those rules. And the thing is, I really like the game, Luke. I like it a lot. In fact, us three are going to continue playing this game, once a week, until I decide that we are done playing."
"Are you crazy, Jonesy," I cried out.
"You know something, I believe that I may be just a little crazy. And you know something else, I think I like it. I think I like it a lot," he said, laughing his way through it. "We are going to play this game once a week, each of us getting a turn, until I say that it is over. The last one alive is the winner of the game. Now, I hope that I win, but I'll understand if I don't. I just want us to have a lot of fun."
After he finished talking, he hit me again. I don't know how long I was out that time. I think I've been out since that day, if I'm being honest. We played so many rounds of that damn game. We did so many very awful things along the way. Things that I'm just not willing to tell. Not now, and not ever.
I won the game. I am the ultimate winner. And do you know what I won? Nothing. I won absolutely nothing. Nothing, that is, unless you count a lifetime of regret, and worry. Worry that we would be caught. Worried that Jonesy would kill me. Worry that I would be condemned to hell. But you know something, I think I'm ready for hell. I think I'm more than ready for it. So consider this my confession, and my goodbye.
I'll see you in hell, Jonesy. I'll be seeing you very soon.
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