by Aniket Pandit

Created on: August 04, 2008

Crimson Night (Short Story)

I ran up the stairs enraged. I just about had enough of this.
"Get down here this instant!" she bellowed. "I'm tired of cleaning up after you. How many times do I have to tell you to not leave the stove running after your done? You know it can be dangerous! Come down here and turn it off."
Turning around as I reached the top, "I'm not your slave," I bellowed back, "just in case you didn't realize that".

"You just HAVE to act like a rebel don't you? Always have to flaunt authority just to prove to everyone how tough you are. Well let me tell you something Ryan, only ungrateful little brats behave this way."
Name-calling, why was I not surprised, "Oh so I'm an ungrateful little brat now? Well gee, I wonder if that's any better than being a complete hooligan' which you so tactfully decided to call me yesterday."
She placed her right hand on her forehead, ran her hand back through her short blond hair, and heaved a sigh. "Ok look, I'm sorry alright? I'm just trying to look out for you, that's all."
"If that's the case then why won't you let me make my own decisions? Why is it that you won't let me go hang with Rick?"
"Like I told you over dinner. We've been through this. I just think he's nothing but trouble. And I don't want you to get hurt."
"Why mom? Because he makes his own decisions? All because he put on little tattoo on his shoulder, Woop-de-doo. So now you think he's a pot-smoking crack-head. The truth is you don't want to let me do anything. You enjoy controlling my life."
She took a step back, flabbergasted. As if I had stabbed her in the heart. "How can you say that? I'm your mother for god sakes! Why would I want to ruin your life?!"
Perhaps I had gone too far. But still, it's like every time I make a choice about doing something she would always have to object.
Lowering my tone a little, "I don't know, but ill tell you something." I paused slightly to deliver my cou-de-grace. "Dad would've thought different."
And, there we were. Me at the top of the stairs and the she at the foot. The ceiling light on the stairs clearly illuminating the scene. The dark mahogany railing attached to the stairs complimenting the fiery atmosphere of the moment. All of which was made more apparent in contrast to the white walls of the house. We both exchanged the disdainful I-so-want-to-strangle-you-right-now look, a trademark ending to our fights. Narrowing her blue eyes with a clenched fist, she grunted in disdain and retreated to her home

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