My name is Allen Thomas Fielder. Just call me Allen for short. I was thirteen years old back then, and my mother and father ran a small shop down in Colorado Springs. Mostly antiques and knick-knacks that not even the most curious seven-year old would ask for. It was a nice place that we could call home. I hated the fact that mother nature didn’t bless this state. Rather, I would always imagine her spreading her ass and shitting on everyone every five minutes or so. Yea, temperature and weather changes that fast. It is a completely horrid place to live, in my opinion.
All in all, I loved being there in that little home. Although I would always dream of something different or interesting happening, I knew that I could handle whatever life threw at me if I lived in that home with my parents…or so I thought anyway.
***
I looked at the USB thumb drive that is now the only memento of my parents. Tears threatened to come out, but I fought them away. Crying won't change anything.
***
It turned out that my dad was an engineer while my mother was a programmer at some company that worked with electronics. I recalled that many times, it gave Microsoft, IBM, and Apple Inc. a run for their money many times. They were always neck and neck in terms of new stuff and products. My favorite was something called “Relation”. It was a pair of glasses that rendered everything around you in AR. I never needed glasses, but seeing these always made me want a pair.
Later that year, I got a pair of “Relation” for my fifteenth birthday. I was so excited by the news, but for some reason, he told me that I can’t wear them until I was sixteen. I was a little sad, but I got over it. Patience is a virtue as well as a price, and “Relation” was definitely worth it.
***
I wiped away the drop of rain that fell on the glasses in front of my eyes. The lens blurred for merely a fraction of a moment before it recalibrated in real time. The long and lonely sidewalk stretched onward, oblivious to the inhabitants that walk in the world above it.
***
When “Relation” was introduced by my parent’s company, many companies united and put together a slander campaign while a string of copyright lawsuits followed that left us drowning in lawyer fees. What followed what nothing short of madness. Reporters camped outside our antique shop for weeks straight while our house was broken into tens of times. We called the police, but they didn’t do anything.
“This happens all the time.” They said. “Probably some street kid.” They claimed. After a while, they stopped coming around when we called.
Most of the time, the only place that got broken into was my parent’s room turned office while we had to clean up the mess. Other times seemed to be break-ins just for spite. Everything of value that wasn’t bolted down would always be stolen and the rooms would all be trashed. We couldn’t even file an insurance claim for the broken windows. “You weren’t covered for that style of window.” They chided.
The slander campaign worked wonders…for the other companies. Eventually memes and various jokes were widespread on the internet and people who were friends of our family of three would suddenly stop talking with us or coming over. Eventually this spread to my friends and teachers at school. I recalled being in math class, when I asked my teacher a question. Do you know what he said?
“Why don’t you ask that whore of a mother you have back at home? Well if she isn’t busy that is. Actually, ask her after I’m done with her later.” The man simply laughed, followed by the kids in class. I never spoke a word in that class again…or in any others for that matter.
***
I walked down the sidewalk slowly. My legs felt like lead while my heart was screaming at me to run back. To go back to them, to save them, to do anything I can for them…yet my footsteps marched onward against the wishes of my dying heart.
***
After I graduated middle school, things really seemed to get out of hand. Break-ins became more frequent while the company that my parents owned went under due to the sheer amount of lawyer fees. The other companies simply stonewalled and bided their time until the money ran dry. That’s how they always did things, and this was no different because it always worked. You have an issue or problem? Throw money at it, and it would definitely go away. God bless capitalism.
When the company went under, my parents had to file for bankruptcy and the slander campaign got blown to a whole new level of crazy. The union of companies also got their hands on my parents design due to the multitude of lawsuits. Even then though, they kept up the slander campaign. Soon, people were saying that my parents were criminals that would do anything and everything for money. They posted false evidence online and at social media sites and blurred the images just right so that it ‘kind of’ looked like them.
Well one of the pictures also had a known member of ISIS before he went from Mr. Hassad to Mr. RIP, as in rest in pieces. This triggered an entirely new wave of hatred for the three of us. We tried to move three times overall. No matter where we went, we couldn’t buy a house or rent an apartment anywhere. Homeless, we lived in our little family mini-van and lived off of the local Denny’s restaurant. Every now and then, we would rent a motel six room for twice the amount of money just to shower. Anything less and the manager wouldn’t even let us into the lobby area the next time.
Eventually, with no income and expenses from just trying to live, we ran out of money. We parked the car near a local park and enjoyed the last semblance of comfort and heat as the car finally ran out of gas and wouldn’t start up again. From there, we walked everywhere we went and found a homeless shelter down the way a few miles.
Of course, they never let us in. Why would they? We are the terrorist family that like blowing ourselves and others. Not the sexual way, mind you, but more the explode-y kind of way that always left others looking at us like garbage.
***
I turned the corner and saw the road that led to the river and the bridge that passed over it. I kept walking.
***
If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
My parents started to beg for money just to feed us. Nobody wanted to beg others for food or money, but what was your pride worth when survival was at stake? I loved my parents and always walked some distance away begging as well to help out. The income wasn’t ideal, but it was enough for a bowl of chili every other day at the Denny’s and maybe a few bread crusts that we could all share if the owner was in a good mood. If he wasn’t, then we simply wouldn’t eat that day.
After about a month, the police finally towed our mini-van home away. Luckily, we had some sturdy cardboard boxes that we found in a dumpster by a construction site. We wrapped them in plastic sheets that you used to store leftovers. The plastic kept the rain and snow out while keeping the integrity stable. We couldn’t really take the boxes with us, so we simply lived near the construction site.
One evening, my mother spoke up while we were having our thrice-a-week meal of bread crusts and chili. “Allen, you are going back to school.” She said with a serious tone.
“But mom, I want to help out! We-”
“Your mother is right Allen. Listen to us. We can live like this for now. Our money has been stable lately so we need to make sure that your future is taken care of.” Dad said sternly.
“Yes, sweetie you have been more than helpful enough. In fact, if you really want to help us out, then you should go to school and get good grades so that you can get a job in two or three years. That would be the best way to help us.” She smiled, yet her eyes looked like they could cry any minute.
“Alright mom I will do my best for you and dad. I will make you proud.” I said with a heavy feeling on my chest.
“Son, we will always be proud of you. No matter what happens.” My father said with a happy smile while mom nodded.
So, I enrolled in a public school. I still had the same issues as middle school, but I didn’t care. Bullying? Mental abuse by the teachers and students? Fights? I didn’t care about any of those. My parents are more important than that. I was known as the quiet kid that never talked. I was known as the son of terrorists. I was known as the monster or the freak, yet I still didn’t care.
***
I walked under the bridge and found the green tepee tent that cost around a hundred dollars on amazon. It could probably fit one person comfortably, or maybe fit three people and be slightly cramped. I dropped my backpack and unzipped the tent. I made it, but…it’s not the same anymore. Probably never will be. I realized.
***
After half a year of being in school, I was hanging around the construction site that became ‘indefinitely suspended’ and saw someone rubbing some pink substance with a knife high up. Mesmerized, I watched the pink snow-like flakes drift towards me. It was the most beautiful moment I had ever seen. However, like most good things in my life, it ended abruptly and painfully as a few flakes went into my eyes. I closed my eyes and screamed as loud as I could out of reflex. Falling to the floor, I wiped my eyes many times to get the tears out. I wiped and wiped, but the tears would never stop and soon became sticky and smelled like old iron.
My parents rushed me to the emergency room ten or so miles away by carrying me in their arms. The medics looked at me and did something with their arms but it was so blurry and painful that I couldn’t see properly.
The medic looked at me with my eyelids wide open and said in a serious voice.
“Your son has some flakes of glass in his eyes. He is going to need immediate surgery as well as a few months our care for recovery.”
As soon as I heard that, my first thought was about my parents. There was no way that we had the money to afford that. So, I told the medic lady that I don’t want to be in a room here at the hospital. I just wanted the glass out of my eyes.
“I see…” She said in a tone of understanding. “I will be right back.”
My parents tried to tell me that everything was going to be fine and that I just need to stay here awhile, but I knew what that would do to our finances. There was no way I would put them through that kind of hardship again for my sake. That isn’t something you do to someone if you love them.
After about ten or so minutes, the medic lady came in with someone else.
“So, what do you say, will you do it?” She asked in a pleading tone while the man faced me and used his hands and arms to do something near me.
“*Sigh*…you know I don’t-”
“He is just a boy Sam. Please.” She asked again.
Sam let out a long sigh. “Alright Elise. Let’s get him to the operating table.”
“How much is-” I began to speak, worried about the operation costs. I couldn’t say the question since I felt a finger on my lips, quieting me.
“Don’t worry boy, he is going to do it for free. You can’t stay in the hospital afterwards, but he can get that glass out of your eyes for you.”
“…Thank you miss.” I said with heartfelt gratitude. My parents did the same.
“Alright lad come with me...”
***
I laid down on the multitude of blankets that were made into a makeshift mattress and cried. It would never be the same. Their smiles. Their love. I would never see them again. This world took them from me and laughed as it did so…
***
A month after the surgery, my vision was still blurry, but he handed me the ‘Relation’ that he told me that I couldn’t use yet. I didn’t know that he still kept it. He put it on my face and immediately everything snapped back into clarity, but when I took them off, I was no better than a blind person. I hugged my dad and mom while thanking them profusely.
“Son take care of these glasses alright? They are the first ones your mother and I have ever made and are a very special set.”
“Yes, mom and dad. I will treasure it with my life.”
When I got the glasses, immediately the kids and teachers at the school would try and take them from me. At the first attempt, I snapped and viciously beat the kid into the ground while breaking his nose. After showing that I would fight back to extremes, they just left me alone. I kind of liked that.
***
When the tears wouldn’t come anymore, the anger stepped forward. The wish for violence, the pure hate, the unending sadness that threatened to drive me insane…they all came flooding into me.
***
Two years after I started high-school, my parents were arrested. When that happened, the floodgates came loose. Charge after charge came from the city lawyer. Murder, rape, possession and distribution of illegal substances, armed robbery, assault, threatening federal employees, and others were quickly added to the list.
Since they couldn’t afford a lawyer, one was provided for them by the state. It was probably at this point that things went into a state that could never be undone. The lawyer never said a word in their defense, while the prosecutor simply spread lies and slander while giving “proof”. A doctored video of two individuals selling some substance to a third, and illegal firearms and substances “found” at our residence.
The court case only lasted one day and the judge read off their sentence in an emotionless tone.
“Death by lethal injection.”
Immediately my father and mother walked over to me and hugged me tightly. My father slipped something into my pocked but I didn’t care. My parents whom I loved so much, were going away. We only hugged for a moment before the police separated us and took them away, outside the court room.
The date was set for one week later. I lied to the police and told them that I had relatives. Each day, I cried over and over again. ‘This couldn’t be real’ I thought to myself many times over. ‘What did we do to deserve this?’ Those seven days were the most agonizing of my entire life. They passed by slowly while thoughts about my mother and father filled my head.
One week later, I arrived at the guest area of the lethal injection room. My parents were wearing the orange jumpsuits that inmates wore in prisons. I was allowed to see them to say my final goodbyes, but nothing would leave my mouth. Instead I cried again and held them close to me. There was nothing I could say, nothing I could do…so I just held them while they held me just as silently.
After about ten minutes passed, the police pulled us apart while keeping me in the guest area. One by one, they laid down on the two chairs in the dull gray room. The doctor sterilized two needles and placed them in a vein on their arms, one per person. Then, he hooked up a black tube to the needle and taped it down.
“Begin.” A voice said. My mind was in utter chaos as I watched the scene unfold in front of me. Slowly the liquid was pushed from the machine, into my parents’ arms. I saw their eyes grow heavy and their bodies start to relax. When the last vial was pushed into them, they both looked at me and mouthed something. Immediately two tears fell from my eyes once more. There was no need to hear what it was.
“I love you Allen. Now and forever.”
I ran out of the building and to our home. Our tent that we scraped enough money to buy off of amazon.
I let the anger consume my mind and heart. The pain eased up a little, but it was still there. The world did this to them…to us…the world…
I looked at the top of the tent and thought to myself, imagining the deaths of millions.
***
A few months had passed since then and I found two part-time jobs. One was at a burger king, while the other was at a laundromat. I saved up enough money to get my daily necessities, a solar charger, and a small red netbook. I flipped open the screen and turned it on. When it finally loaded, I browsed to facebook and went through the feeds. Videos were constantly uploaded of the lethal injection. The videos were quickly turned into memes and various jokes around the world. It went so viral, that they were played on various talk shows in almost every country. They all did the same thing though, as it reached the end, they all laughed and said some words.
I grabbed a thick black notebook from my backpack and opened it to the first page and began to read.
My name is Allen Thomas Fielder, and this is my journal, my revenge, my book to remember what happened and make everyone pay for what they have done.
***LOG***//
"Jesus, the shit this kid went through...no wonder he blew up half the world. Just reading the first entry in his book makes me want to do it too..." - Detective John Sybech, Lead Investigator FBI