Conception

By James P Hassell

The culmination of a dead end job, a disappointed mother, and undiagnosed mental issues lead to a major depressive episode and a suicide attempt. This was the lowest point of Dustin’s young life. But when he acts upon his darker impulses new, unexpected people pop up in his world. He meets Cody, a possible hallucination who has a knack for never being wrong who has taken it upon himself to try to help Dustin navigate his life. And Sarah, who could be the love of his life after his premature death and resuscitation.

Can Dustin work through his issues and overcome the path God has asked him to travel? Or will Dustin find out the hard way that things can always get worse? Travel with him as he struggles to find happiness in a world that is constantly knocking him down.

James P Hassell's debut with the Faith Series is a chilling look into the modern world, religion, mental health, family, and relationships. He makes a smashing entry that pulls absolutely no punches in this dark comedy filled with heart wrench decisions and razor sharp writing that will leave you begging for more.

If you are a fan of the minimalist style and satire of Chuck Palahniuk and the gritty pulp of Victor Gischler you'll love the world James P Hassell creates.

• Language: English
• Publisher: We Are The Apex
• Release date: Dec 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311996817

Book preview

Conception

James P Hassell

Text copyright © 2014 James P Hassell

Published by WE ARE THE APEX

All Rights Reserved

This is dedicated to my grandmother who always knew this day would come. My brother who knew I was always capable. And my mother whose love and support made getting to this day even possible. Thank you, I love you.

Table of Contents

Chapter 01 - A Letter from the Future

Chapter 02 - Black

Chapter 03 - Tainted

Chapter 04 - Rebirth

Chapter 05 - Tomb

Chapter 06 - Kids

Chapter 07 - Waken

Chapter 08 - Red

Chapter 09 - Life

Chapter 10 - Complete

Chapter 11 - Revelation

Chapter 12 - Ripped

Chapter 13 - Broken

Chapter 14 - White

A Letter from the Future

Whatever you do, don’t do it. Whatever’s going on in that little brain of yours, it’s wrong. Don’t even think about doing the opposite, that’s wrong too. Just stop.

Accept it.

Tonight you’re going to try to kill yourself, and that is going to be the dumbest move you’ve ever made. You’re going to beg to God and pray for death.

And guess what?

God is going to answer your prayer.

And like most things that concern God, it’s going to be the biggest disaster in your little world. Think floods and plagues. Think locusts and rivers of blood. Think pillars of salt.

The question really is: why are you trying to get God’s attention?

Where in the bible did you ever see God giving people what they wanted? It’s all vengeance and blind devotion.

Whatever you do tonight, don’t pray.

Because that’s the big secret, God truly does exist, and God loathes you for the life you live.

So much that you are going to be given your every wish, starting with death, leading to bliss, and then you will be given a choice, and guess what? There is nothing you will be able to do afterwards.

First you smile. Then you weep.

I can’t even remember why you are about to commit to the stupidest fucking move you’ll ever make in your dumb little life.

What I do know is that it will lead to your downfall.

And it starts with a drink.

A simple shot.

That will lead to the bottle being gone.

I hope this letter gets to you in time. They tell me it will work. That I should write a letter to myself, my past self, and I should tell myself where it all goes wrong.

Then I can see how to fix things.

So where did it all go wrong that night…?

And why did it?

Well, my past self, I only have five words of advice for you.

Get - a - mother - fucking - gun.

Black

I never thought I would have died. Funny really…we all die right? You just don’t dwell on these kinds of things at twenty one I suppose.

You’re not going to die, a man’s voice replies and I feel pressure tighten around my hand. Something plastic pinches around my mouth and nose. A mask, maybe, like a jet pilot.

My eyes close.

Am I in motion? All I see is blackness…yet, how can blackness swirl….

I’m dizzy, no I’m spinning, no I’m still, no I’m stopped.

No, everything is black. I feel my body rising and falling, my chest, quick, up and down. I’m not conscious of breathing, but I’m conscious of not having air.

Was I ever conscious of breathing?

Blackness….

I open my eyes. I want to see the muted grey that was there before, what should have been white. Eyes open, still black. Where’s the man who was talking earlier? Why isn’t he holding my hand anymore? Why can’t I feel the pinch of plastic around my mouth?

What is happening to me?

You’re such a disappointment, my mother speaks from nowhere, such a failure. You have so much potential, but you waste it away. I can see again. What are you doing with your life? I can see her now, turning her back and leaving the grey trimmed doorframe. Instead of focusing on her dark brown hair with streaks of grey, I look to the frame. Grey paint, chipping and peeling away to expose a previous coat of white. The front door closes and a motor starts. My mother is driving away after saying what was on her mind.

This was hours ago….

You’re going to be ok. Have you ever played RuneScape? the voice is back, the hand is back, and I can see again…I think.

No… what is he talking about?

I saw the computer in your room, he says, I thought you might have played.

No…. How did you get in my room?

He looks down and I don’t think he’s smiling. Everything around me smears and blurs. Motion, I’m in motion. I can feel the motion as if it is more real that the plastic mask wrapped around my face.

The door was unlocked. We had to save you.

Oh. I blink once, twice, and the man who I assume is a paramedic is talking again. His voice doesn’t sound like words though, and the interior of the ambulance melts away to blackness, and this time, blue.

Night, I’m cast in the blue that the moon reflects at night. My mother thinks she’s special because she won the lottery. Thirty eight million dollars that she and her new husband will blow in who knows how soon. She thinks she’s special because something random happened to her. My mom thinks God has touched her.

I remember the glare when I asked her, Where?

The kitchen surrounds me now. I hate this kitchen. My kitchen. Twenty years ago my mom thought it was a good idea to rip out oak cabinets in favor of these weird plastic shelves. You know, for order.

The sink leaks every year. Not all year, but once a year, it springs a leak. The floor gets soaked, so in front of the sink the linoleum is rotted away to show blackened wood. Every time you cook or want a glass of water you always have to wonder if this is the time you’ll go from normal and healthy to a bloody and torn apart leg. Will my foot meet floor or dirt?

This applies to the whole house. It’s falling apart.