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Musicians/Music Groups Fan Fiction >> KoRn

The following is a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

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Roses
By Destro

 

He hunched over his bowl of cereal in the small apartment kitchen that he owned. He crossed his
ankles as he sat in the creaky wooden chair and gazed out the window while picking up the cool
silver spoon.
He saw a squirrel hop across the cement near the sliding glass door as he began eating. The sun was
shining outside, but nothing could lift the permanent darkness from his heart and mind.
After a few minutes of silence he finished eating and walked across the tile to the sink where he
put the used bowl. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walked into the living room where his socked
feet met the coarse carpet.
He sat down on the chilled leather couch and crossed his legs, turning the TV on. He channel surfed
and found nothing.
Something caught his eye and he glanced over his shoulder to the courtyard to see a tall man at the
door of an apartment only a few buildings down. It wasn't the man that had gotten his attention. It
was the flowers he held. The roses. The pink roses that were almost an exact duplicate of the ones
his mother had been given so many times.
"No, not the roses.." he said and looked away, propping his cheek on his hand. "Not the roses.."
He couldn't bear looking at anything that resembled his past anymore and he fought back the tears,
still channel surfing. He remembered the waiting coffee and turned his back to the sliding glass
door as he walked back into the kitchen. He opened the cabinet with squeeking hinges and pulled out
a deep blue mug, then closed it again with the same sound. With shaking hands he filled the cup
halfway then trudged back to the living room, sitting on the couch in the same fashion as earlier.
He starred blankly into the TV, not watching the show, but not thinking about anything.
The telephone next to him rang suddenly and the sound echoed throughout the empty apartment. He
jumped, splattering the dark, steaming substance onto his hand. He set the mug on the side table
with a quiet curse, and picked up the annoying piece of plastic.
"Hello?" his own voice was trembling.
"Jonathan?" he heard the gruff voice of his father. "Jonathan I need you to come with me."
"I'm not dad, I told you before I made my decision." he replied, gulping. "I'm sorry but I can't."
"It's not a matter of if you can I know it's just you won't," his father went on. "You're coming."
"Dad I can't!" he exclaimed as tears stung his eyes. "I told you before!"
"Jona-" he slammed the phone down before he heard the response.
"I can't." he repeated to himself.
He fought it, but ended up looking out the window and saw the couple with the pink roses again,
sitting at a picnic table. It looked like a fantasy and gave he the memory of when his mother and
father were together.
"Mom's birthday." he said aloud. "T-today.."
He thought everything through. His father wanted him to go to his mother's grave for her birthday
but he had already decided not to risk going with him. He promised himself he would go tomorrow. He
promised.

 

The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

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