Fiction

I present my first attempt at fiction to you all, and even I don’t know where it’s headed. I’ll attempt to keep plugging forward with an episode a week.

What follows is a work of fiction, and all included characters are fictional and do not represent any actual persons, living or deceased; even though many of the geographic locations are real places. I would also like to let readers know that much of my content tends to be raw, and possibly offensive to some. So, if colorful language and content offends your sensibilities, please avoid reading any further. That said, I hope you find it stimulating.

Episode 1
Simmering misguided hatred of everything had become his passion, his world, and his ever expanding universe. He seethed at everything imaginable, from asshole motorists who cut someone else off to the jack-off who couldn’t drink without slurping. No imagined insult, no matter how minute, escaped his notice. Worst yet, he never forgot them. They just sat there stewing in the hell-broth of his mind. No release, no savior, no escape.
He could never shake the feelings of abandonment that enveloped him. Though an outside observer could never find cause for these emotions, he felt them and they burned like a foundry inside him. The boy, unable to truly cross the bridge into manhood, felt that he never really belonged to anything. He just knew those friends he had were never really friends: they were either using him to assuage their own egos, or were just looking for someone else to share this swim through misery and despair. His god, the one that was supposed to be so fucking benevolent and omnipotent, managed to leave him high and dry again. He never listened, never fixed anything, and most certainly never brought any sweet vengeance or merciful justice. How in the hell could a righteous god let all this crazy bullshit happen in the world, and worst yet him? Why in the fuck could everyone else be happy, and not him?
Who can work towards heaven when you’re in constant hell? Who can hope for sunny weather in the middle of a hurricane? Certainly not Rudy, for his life has always been a level-five, certifiable, shit-storm. The anger blown rains of misery never ceased. Rudy was mired in a deep depression. A depression that pursued him like a pack of feral dogs, ripping him down by his Achilles, gnawing him into submission, and devouring every bit of life in his soul.

The above works and content are solely the intellectual property of Teddy G. Bowman, Jr., and may not be used without his expressed written authorization.