A Bone to Pick with You (Short Story)

This story would be weird if you haven’t seen my other short stories “The Cave” and “The Disgraced Ringmaster” (links down below). The inspiration to write this comes from this prompt I found recently: Have the main character in your novel (or short story) write a letter to you. What would they say? Have them write whatever you want.

Good morning, Ma’am, Mr.P here at your service. Look here, the last thing I want to do is to mess up your weekend. But seeing that I’m the first real character you’ve ever created, I think I deserve at least one interruption. I got a bone to pick with you, okay? And it’s not even about me, you know? All I’m saying is that you have got to do something about this guy I just met at the desert, because he’s freaking DYING.

I mean, I got plenty to complain about with my own life. The fact that I am not complaining now should tell you how serious this chap’s condition is. In case you don’t know who I’m talking about, it’s on you. I don’t know his name. You left him in such critical condition that he can barely say anything. The stupid child next to him is as fearful as my old circus crew. He’s just there bawling his eyes out. He didn’t dare to leave his dad alone to ask for help. Can you imagine his horror, Ma’am? Watching his father dying like that?

You probably wonder how the hell I found this dying guy or how did I even get to a desert. Well, after that rainy night you left me in that dirty alley, all beaten up, I got up and went to get some more liquor. (Again, Ma’am, not complaining, I did deserve to be punched every now and then). But then I had no money, as you didn’t let me take the cash that kind bartender offered me. So these crowds got pissed off at me for not paying for my alcohol and they chased me! I had to run all the way to the train station and hop on the train to save my neck, Ma’am. I became a stowaway. It made me laugh when I realised that because most of my circus crew used to be stowaways, too. That was how I recruited them.

Anyway, I must have slept for a really long time. When I woke up, the scenery from outside train had changed drastically. Too much sand for Mr.P’s liking, Ma’am. (Why did you name me that, anyway? A letter? I mean, even you let me named Richie with a full, normal name. Again, not complaining.) I gotta thank you here, though. The oasis town where I hopped out of the train had an amazing tavern. Their local drink was amazing. Again, I forgot I didn’t have a single penny on me. Doubt they’d take any money I had anyway, this place was certainly foreign.

So I ran away again. I thank you for my legs, at least. They’re strong enough from my circus heydays. Soon I realised the sound of my chasers fading, and I was alone in the middle of a desert. What a world you had in your head, Ma’am. It was wild. I don’t want to question you, but I hate that you chose to have this place. It was so hot in the day and so cold in the night. I was just going to rest in a cave I saw. Guess what – that’s where you left this man to die.

Ma’am, again I must implore you here to either save this man or just kill him straightaway. The kid just told me they had been in that cave for close to twenty one days now. TWENTY ONE DAYS! That is insane. I may have caused people to die from that accursed explosion, but I don’t torture them this way! Ma’am, I think something must have gone wrong with your story for this man. Maybe you intended this man to die straight away or something? Either way, he’s not dead. I can tell he’s poisoned. His skin is kind of purple now, with all the veins showing. He is foaming from the sides of his mouth. God! He’s alive but not living. Do something, Ma’am. Do something, please. I cannot see another life suffering like this. He had the same black, big eyes as Richie.

I promise you I’ll swear off alcohol altogether. Do something. There is a child here who doesn’t want to move at all from his father’s almost-corpse body. He hasn’t eaten for three weeks! Ma’am, can’t you do something for these poor people?

Wait. Unless… You put me here to do something? To save them? But, how?

Okay Ma’am, write to you again soon. I must be still drunk after all, I am hallucinating hearing this snake approaching me, speaking!

In the meantime, you know, think of something. Help these guys.

 

Your firstborn,

Mr.P

 


Click here for the original stories:

https://ajumbledrealism.wordpress.com/2016/03/06/the-cave-short-story/

https://ajumbledrealism.wordpress.com/2016/02/14/the-disgraced-ringmaster-short-story/

Yours truly,

M

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