The Lone Way Down: The Silent Abby Collection

By Michael A. Burt

Being socially awkward is difficult already, but moving to a new town and starting over just sucks. On the first day of school Shawn meets Shelly, a Goth type that he finds intriguing. Teenage life is hard enough, but it only gets worse when she starts playing games with him, and Shawn doesn't even know it. Doesn't take long for him to discover this, and he can’t seem to stop playing along.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael A. Burt
• Release date: Jul 3, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476497693

Michael A. Burt

Last year I started writing submissions for the Creepy Podcast, and they accepted quite a few of them. I decided to publish these stories in volumes, but as I continued to write, the stories began to get longer than the word capacity for the podcast. Most of the stories in Volume II are longer than they appear in the podcast. All of Volume III will be longer than what is on the podcast.

Book preview

THE LONE WAY DOWN

By

Michael A. Burt.

SMASHWORDS EDITION

. . . . .

PUBLISHED BY:

Michael A. Burt at Smashwords

The Lone Way Down

Copyright © 2012 Michael A. Burt

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Adult Reading Material

. . . . .

To all those who feel alone in a room full of people, like me.

. . . . .

THE LONE WAY DOWN

Have you ever found yourself in a situation where there are people all around you, but you’re still alone? I have. In fact I feel that way all the time. Though, most times, there aren’t that many people around. My name is Shawn Alexander, and I’m a loner. Not by choice mind you, but because that’s just how it is. It’s not like I woke up one day and thought, ‘gee, I want everyone in the world to act like I don’t matter’. Far from it. Only when there is a direct interaction with another being am I noticed. I could be in the same room with you, hell I could be the only other person in the room with you, and you still wouldn’t notice. I know what you’re thinking, ‘I would’ve noticed’, but I’m here to tell you that no, you didn’t. I could be right here with you, reading this piece of my mental rambling, and you wouldn’t notice.

Please, don’t take my word for it. Take a look around, really notice the people around you. Go ahead…really look. Did you see me? Of course not, no one ever does. I don’t take offense, and why should I? After so long I should be used to it, right? It’s hard, but you do adjust. If I didn’t I’d have faded from existence a long time ago. Then again, who’s to say I haven’t. Unless there’s some sort of obligation, say we work in the same office and someone tells you to ask me for a report, then you’d talk to me, but it wouldn’t be real. How often do we speak to those around us? Sitting in a coffee house and you’re without sugar, you ask the person at the next table if you can use theirs. Did you really say anything real to them? No, you just needed something. Whether they gave that something to you or not, there wasn’t anything real said.

So often people take for granted the ability to openly communicate with another person. The only thing required is another living being. What happens when there isn’t one around? Do you start talking to yourself, stay inside your own mind, or just go without? I’ve done all these things. I try to speak to others, but it rarely works out. It’s like being back in high school, I’m the geek and trying to start up a conversation with the most popular girl in the whole school. She either ignores me completely, or gets out of the situation as quick as she can. Now imagine it’s not high school and not just the popular girl, but the whole world and everyone is like that. Hard to imagine? Trust me, it happens and it ain’t no fun.

That’s why I’m writing this. In hopes that someone will read this, I write my experience. Maybe it will even find its way to someone that knows exactly what I mean, another that has similar experiences. As far as I know there isn’t anyone like me. Maybe if there is and they read this, maybe they’ll find out that they’re not alone after all. Of course the problem is finding another person like this because there’s the chance that they won’t see them. I’m sure that’s happened to me, but how can I know. It’s not like there’s a help group or a website for people like me.

I guess that’s what I hope to accomplish with this. Nothing more to say about it, except maybe one thing. Don’t feel pity, don’t show me sympathy. Just read and understand. Maybe it’ll help you find an answer to a most popular question for so many people. Why, in a room full of people, do I feel so alone?

. . . . .

Junior year, first day of school. For some it’s a walk in the park, making friends in all their classes, talking like they know what they’re saying. There are those that didn’t have it so easy, they were scared because it was so different from what they knew before. It sucks even more when you move to a new place and have to start from scratch. At least most of the teens around me have someone they were friends with in middle school and have them still. I don’t. My father is in the Army and he transferred during the summer. He’s a Combat Stress therapist that specializes in dealing with soldiers that have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Try growing up with a man that psychoanalyzes you with every conversation you have. You learn with a quickness to choose what you say carefully.

Believe it or not, saying nothing at all has a drawback too. Dad was under the impression for a summer that I was suffering from a social disorder, that I didn’t like talking to anyone. It took him three months to figure out that I just didn’t like talking to him. He was too open with his diagnosis of me back then, so I just shut down with him. I’d hate to see what he would’ve charged for all those conversations if they were really sessions. In the private sector he’d make a hell of a living, but he’s still got a lot of years in his contract. Enough to see me through the rest of my high school career and then some. College too probably.

By the time third period English hit I’d managed to say the same four words in the first two classes. My name is Shawn. That’s it. I didn’t have anything to add because there isn’t anything. Even if I did say where I was from and why I moved it wouldn’t matter. No one listens anyway.

Hello class, the teacher, Mrs. Gromwell, says. And like all the others she introduces herself and tells what she expects from the class. There’s some stupid paperwork, and an activity to help us get to know our fellow students. A scavenger hunt, but instead of looking for items we’re supposed to look for someone that has an experience that’s written on the list. Sounds stupid and corny, and it is, but they seem to think it helps. It doesn’t.

My first class of the day did something like this, but that experience was different. The teacher read off the list and anyone that had the announced experience would raise their hand. I don’t think Mr. Henchman noticed I didn’t raise my hand once. Not my fault there wasn’t an experience on that list I’ve had. I have no pets, no relatives outside my parents that I’m in contact with, and I’ve never left the country. I was born and raised in a small town where damn near everyone knew everyone, and still only a hand full of people knew me. More often than not I was recognized as the Alexander’s son because of the name, not that they recognized me. Here I don’t have even that.

For this class the teacher sits back and watches as the classroom erupts in a rush of conversation as everyone starts asking around for people to sign their list. It’s a disorganized storm of chaos, but there’s a reason to it. The students are socializing with one another, but it’s still not real. Back home I had a few friends, and they didn’t talk about stupid crap like who’s worn a grass skirt at a beach party. It was the kind of group where we talked about real things: why is the sky blue, what makes people work so hard for important things and the meaning of life. We were a thoughtful bunch of school kids with a grand sense of the world. Way ahead of our time, and were looked at strangely for such.

I haven’t even bothered looking at anything on the list because I thought it was like the last one I had. I’m pondering on the lack of importance to the exercise when I hear something I can say yes to. Have you ever been in a life or death situation? It’s a strange question to ask a junior, but it has a weight of real to it. Something with meaning, morbid as it can seem, but real all the same. I have a theory on morbidity, but the teacher is calling my name.

Mr. Alexander. The class stops at the sound of the teacher. Do you think you’re exempt from this assignment. Funny how they call it an assignment instead of activity now that we’re in high school.

Great, singled out in the first fifteen minutes of class. No ma’am.

Then why aren’t you asking for signatures on your list?

Because I don’t see a point in asking something pointless that has no meaning. At least that’s what I want to say. There’s no substance to the questions, save for one.

Mrs. Gromwell gives me an inquisitive look that tells me I’ve already screwed myself. She can tell I’m not like the others, can see that I think much more deeply. That’s dangerous to do with an English teacher. Now she’s going to expect something different from me. And which is that?

I glance down at the list and see the one I want, figures it’d be the last one. Have you ever been in a life and death situation?

It’s plain on her face that this is what she expected, thus follows the inevitable question. And have you?

Yes, but that’s not the point.

And what is the point? The way she asks questions reminds me of my father. I can already tell I’m not going to enjoy her class.

It’s the only question with substance to it, but it’s a touchy subject. A life and death situation is too personal to get into in this setting, but we’re supposed to ask it anyway. The question has substance, but we’re not supposed to absorb it. Defeats the purpose if you ask me.

The purpose is to get to know your classmates.

By asking something as mundane as ‘what’s your favorite color’? How much can you tell from a person by asking that? In actuality there’s a lot. At least that’s what my father says. Mine’s blue. Now you have the key to understanding why I am the way I am. Yeah, riiight.

I think you’re reading too much into this Shawn. You’re not going to get to know everyone around you well enough to speak of true substance of character. In these environments, a favorite color is what passes for socially acceptable. She says it like she expects me to argue.

If you say so. Not only can the teacher see that I don’t agree, but so can everyone else in class. They’re all looking at me much the way healthy people would a leper. I’ve just taken the first big step to being a social outcast. Good going Shawn.

The class goes on about its business. Evidently no one else in the class has gone through a life or death experience, so everyone asks him to sign that item on their list. No one asks him what it was because they don’t care. That and it might not be acceptable to ask. Whatever.

Never mind that the teacher mistook his point.