New story: Desicions, Desicions

[Crimson_Brilliance010]

Nice story. What I'm interested in is how you have showed that you are a strong person and have managed to pull through this, being affected as little as possible due to "problematic upbringing".

Everyone has their problems. I would not say that I had a "happy childhood with warm parents, etc". Our family used to be very poor, when I was much younger. As the Soviet Union folded and we became independent, careers were opened and people got new opportunities. Ever since, my parents have been working like animals, no time for children. I don't really see my parents anyway, since during the past 6 years, I've maybe spent around 12 months at home (boarding school in Switzerland, travelling, etc). In September, I am going to university in London, and since I got an apartment there, I will remain in London for most of the year. No time to see my parents.

It's up to you to become independent, live your life without being affected by childhood issues. I don't really "miss" my parents, since I never got very close to them. I find it better this way, get out of their way as soon as possible and let them get on with their own lives without having to worry about you.

Our stories are quite different, but all I'm saying to you is to be a man and dont let such things affect your life in a negative way.

“Hush, child. Go to sleep.” It’s another one of those nights. The 18 month-old will not be silenced. Milk, pacifier, toys, rocking, none will quiet his infantile soul. It’s times like these I think back to the time just before all of this happened. Back when life was somewhat perfect, carefree. As the night grows longer, I begin to drown out the cries, and go back to the time… before I had to accept responsibility.

Her name was Vivian, a high school vixen if EVER there was one. Well put together, not to mention a good head on her shoulders. Her endless hair that streamed down her back must have been what hooked me… I was in the main hallway during rush hour, (when it’s time to go, it’s time to GO!) and in the midst of all the traffic, I saw her. She was walking from the gyms with an outfit you could take to the clubs and STILL to yo’ mama. Amazingly enough, it seemed as if we were walking in the hallway, just her and I. I was too weak to go up to her and speak as if I was someone significant. She had me in a daze, abruptly interrupted by a brisk push into a brick wall. That collusion set something off in me; I was swifter, smarter, suave. I felt like a conqueror, ready to claim what I saw fit to be mine. My (new) mind was made up, and I went after her. Just as she was to exit the building, I slid in front of her with a smile to charm the heavens and my number and address. As a giggle escaped her lips, she took the slip that held my info, and watched as I moon-walked away and turned around to go catch my bus.

Over the next few weeks, a relationship began to form. From the outside looking in, it was often said we were going way to fast, that somebody was going to end up hurt. Oh, but we were so blissfully ignorant, and all the signs that we passed that our parents had installed themselves to tell us where we were headed, were painted, “More LOVE Ahead”. So we continued down our “road to hell is paved with good intentions” and began to do more than talk… slowly but surely, our love was turning to lust. Our talking to touching. Our touching to embracing. Our embracing to kissing. Our kissing to undressing each other. Then came the time for our painfully greedy lust to be satisfied. There was nothing left to do but to cross that final threshold.





Our “hearts” just happened to find each other at her house. Ironically, her parents were at church workshop, at which they would be spending the whole evening there well into the morning hours, at the time. Throwing all caution, common sense, and morals to the wind, we also did our clothes. We then proceeded to go where instinct and desire took us, long into the night. (Well, 9:30 cause we, too, were supposed to be at church and back home by now.) What we didn’t know was that what took place between our genitals would result in something irreversible…

The next week at school, I only saw her half as much as I normally would. Then the next week, I didn’t see her at all. I didn’t have to have much smarts to figure out that something had gone awry. I went home that day worried, deep in thought as I walked through the door, only to be pummeled by Auntie! What I could pick up through the cursing, was that Vivian… was pregnant (dun-dun-dun DUN). We were forced to make a decision then and there. Whatever was coursing through our minds at the time was disbelief, so we said we were to keep the baby.

We had a healthy pregnancy; we did as adults, working until the baby kept her off her feet for long periods of time. Our parents, not to mention church members, gave us earful, after earful… after earful, but they eventually got over it and decided that we had seen the reality enough to begin to help us out financially. Everything was going as well as we’d hoped… but there was something about the third trimester that bothered me deeply. Vivian began to look sickly. I could always just suppress it for a time, but then it would just come back…
Then came the day. We were on holiday and just happened to be packing her maternity bags, when her water decides to break. So we all rush, rush, rush to the hospital, fill every form for admittance, and she goes in to labor. LORD, did she go into labor. For 18 looong hours, she brought Darryl Lee McCall into the world, and unbeknownst to me, she was fading out of it. With her last throes of contractions, her heart gave out. She could not be revived. She was dead before they could cut the umbilical cord. I was then faced with a decision. I could act like nothing had ever happened, and just leave him there for the hospital and state to deal with. Or, I could accept my consequences for a night of yearning, and raise this child to be an upstanding citizen of the world…

By this time, Darryl had given up on trying to get me to listen to his needs for a motherly touch, when all I had felt like was the discouraged father who was tired of life. As I come out of my reverie, I realize Darryl has cried himself to sleep, yet again, and I, too, cry.

[Pamela]

Simple question...did this really happen,or is this a story? Either way it is provocative,and well written.

[Crimson_Brilliance010]

(Poser) Hell, NAW! I rep that V-SQUAD!!! We them strong G's who get no P. OOOOOOOOOH

Anyway, no not true. Which you might have been able to tell due to the line, "... before I had to accept responsibility." Although, it blended well (kinda, imo, probably because I wrote it) it should still stick out as an essay with a prompt. And truthfully, I am a virgin and plan to be 'till marriage... And that's IF I get married, if "life" chooses my life is better for me without a companion, then so be it. (Should the preceding sentence have been written...? hmm)

One simple question for another... What's provocative? (I don't feel like going to look it up myself, and I feel there's something else you want to say anyway)

[Pamela]

Provocative is along the lines of *Thought provoking* It *stands out*...thus making a statement. It was well written and thought provoking . Very good job.Provocative is normally associated with bold and *out there* themes,such as clothing or behavior.A low cut dress and a woman that bends over to display her chest is also considered provocative. I hope that helped.

[Crimson_Brilliance010]

First and foremost, I am humbled that you feel my literature to worthy of praise, and suggest that, if you wish to see a little more of my work, you visit here http://www.blizzsector.co/writing-ro...ts-finest.html I realize you "didn't exist" at the time this was published and might give you a bit of background information. You, of course, know how to reach me for further, in depth details. In other words...

(Ghetto me) If you want to be all in MY milk and cookies, then hit me up, *****!

(the "you know better" me) heh-heh heh-heh

[Crimson_Brilliance010]

“We still going to Granny’s house today?” asked Vivian. “Yes, I’m not missing the barbeque.” I replied.
“Why did you bring that up? You know I can’t have any. Ow!”
“See? You’re due at any time now.”
“But as of now, I’m still pregnant.”
“Really? I’d’ve never known, seeing as how we’ve been to the hospital every other day for the past 3 weeks.”
“That is not my fault. This baby is late.”
“Actually, this baby is early. Child development is actually 10 months.” I quipped as I cleared my throat.
“Bottom line: these contractions are getting stro-o-OOOnger,” Vivian reported as she inhaled and continued, “and getting closer together!”
“Well, this time we’re going to heed the doctors and not come in until your water breaks.” I crooned soothingly as I began to message random places on her body. “In the meantime, where did we leave your maternity bags?”
“Don’t you remember? I get up in the middle of the night and unpack everything.”
“But, of course! How could I forget? Always having to go pee, never being able to go back to sleep. I keep telling you to wake me up so you won’t be up alone.”
“No, you have a jo-o-OOOOB,” Vivian retorted as she recovered, “and I’ll be d*mned if you get fired because you can’t stay awake at work.”
‘Always thinking of us,’ I thought as I rubbed the orifice that contained our child, Darryl Lee McCall. Vivian got up to go. “No, baby, I’ll get it!” “This isn’t that kind of “get up”, move!” she retaliated as she swiftly moved to the bathroom, something that always puzzled me seeing as how she gained 60 pounds with the pregnancy. Continuing my agenda, I began to pack her maternity bags. Time had passed and the occasional moan escaped from bathroom. Just as I had finished packing, she called to me “Dorian! Baby! Uh, get in here!” I walked in the bathroom and she was staring at me with this look, a look I would remember for ages, a look of a defining moment, a look that said “Here comes baby!” (tear) I helped her off the toilet and left her to get her clothes back situated, while I ran the bags down to the car. This is it, this is happening.

I thankfully had my Hardship license, so I was on the road legally. I also managed to break an old new father cliché. I drove like I had some sense, didn’t panic and run everywhere overlooking the most obvious of things, OR faint during anytime in this time bracket. (Thank you.) Another thing I’m thankful for is the blessings that were bestowed unto us from the church, including the discount on insurance and financial planning that made paying at the admissions desk easier. But all the forms of admittance and red tape and back order slips still managed to impeded the process and only made Vivian more weary.
“Baby, what is the problem now? Don’t they know this baby is here?” Vivian asked exasperatedly.
“I know, Vivian, but I can’t get write any faster than they give me the forms, just hold out.”
“I CAN’T hold out! That’s the point! Why would you expect me stop this natural process? Why should I have to be the one to have the baby? Why can’t you be a man about yours?” she attacked.
“You better be glad that I know that’s the hormones talking.”
“’Hormones’ my *ss! You come help me through this, I’m in pain!”
“I’m doing what I can. Vivian, I love you and this child, but if you continue to harass me I can’t concentrate.” I tried to enunciate calmly.
“Is that all I am to you? A distraction?!?” she shrieked.
“Vivian, shut up!” I roared, immediately silencing the room… including an ethereal one from Vivian
“Vivian? Vivian!” I might’ve given my self whiplash with the speed with which I turned my neck to yell at the desk, “Can she be seen NOW!?!”

Vivian was finally able to get the attention she needed. Her, and my child.

It’s been 18 hours. I haven’t slept. I haven’t been able to stomach anything. I just walked. A lot. Around. In circles. With out aim or purpose. Anything that would keep me from having to think about what might be happening in that room. And then something happened that will begin to haunt the inner recesses of my soul. I found… outside. And outside, was a storm. A great, torrential storm. A electricity filled sky with clouds swollen with more water than all 4 oceans of this Earth. And then, it happened. The power went out. At first, I just thought ‘Ok.’ And then, a scene flashed before my eyes from earlier in my zombie-like state.
“How is she, doctor?”
“Not well, but the child is coming nicely.”
“What do you mean ‘not well’?”
“Vivian’s vitals are far below what we’d like…”
“And?”
“And, we’ve put her on life support.”
“Life support? Meaning if anything extra happens that shouldn’t, my wife is dead?”
“Basically, yes. But, she’s going strong, she’s doing better than I thought…”
I had continued to walk. But during this time of reflection, with a flash of lightning, I realized that ‘No electricity means no Life Support!!!’
“D*mn!” I exclaimed as I ran through dark corridors and up dimly lit stairwells back to the maternity ward. “I’ve got to get there. I’ve got to be there!”
My sprint of no abandon could not have been good for my own health, but it didn’t matter. I would run through walls and levitate if it meant I could be next to the two most important people in the world to me right now. Suddenly, as if God in heaven saw me himself, I ran into the door of the maternity ward. No time for recovery, I drug myself up with quickness and entered therein. No longer remembering where the room was, God moved again.
A doctor came outside of Vivian’s room to investigate the crashing sound with a flashlight. “Is someone out here?”
“Yes. Yes! Do you know where Vivian McCall is?”
“It depends, who are you?”
“I’m her husband. She’s having my child!”
“Mr. McCall? Good, I have some good, bad, and ugly.”
‘Who doesn’t these days?’ I thought with malice, “What now?”
“Bad: Power went out and Life Support failed.”
‘Oh, God.’
“Good: She started functioning on her own.”
‘Score.’
“Ugly: Her vitals began to decline again. BUT, Good: Your son is here. 9 lbs 9 oz. 19 inches. Healthy, we’re cleaning him now. But…”
“The next words out of your mouth better be of my wife’s good health.”
“Sir, with her last throes of contractions, her heart gave out. She was dead before we could cut the umbilical cord. But, there’s more ugly-“
“What can be uglier than that? I can’t handle anymore bad news! It’s bad enough we’re underage, but now “we” is “me”--”
The doctor advanced and slapped me.
“Get a hold of yourself, son! You have to make a decision! If you don’t feel you can fulfill the needs of this child, then we need to put him in the system! You can walk out right now or be a man.”
I was then faced with a decision.
‘I could act like nothing had ever happened, and just leave him there for the hospital and state to deal with. Or, I could accept my consequences for a night of yearning, and raise this child to be an upstanding citizen of the world…’ it was with this thought that a profound change occurred in my psyche. The paternal instincts of my species reared up in me. I was no longer a young man with a sex drive. I was a father with an obligation. To my child, to my wife, and to myself.
“I will do what is necessary.”
(Hi, If you read this you'l easily find that it might be a tad awkward, but leave your comments anyway.)