A little story I started. Let me know what you think.
Chapter One
Steve sat down on his bed, the metal coils squeaked under his weight, "Finally done." A twinge of pain caused him to bring his right hand to his forehead. He hasn't been this sober since his father died. He lit the cigarette in his hand to try to take the edge off, took a puff, and laid back hoping to relax. Every time he tried to close his eyes, he remembered what he had done the night before, "I am such a ****ing idiot." He took another puff of his cigarette, the smoothness of his face reminded him that he hadn't shaved in years.
Steve finished the cigarette, nearly by instinct he snuffed it out with his fingers, and before he flung it off in a random direction he stopped himself. He sat up and walked over to his trash can, surrounded by nearly a dozen or so sacks that seemed to dwarf his trash can. "I guess I'm too used to putting things off." He picked up two of the sacks and headed toward the door to his apartment. By the time he reached the door one of the sacks was starting to rip open, he paused to tie the top back off and nearly hurled over the ungodly stench that came forth.
Steve opened the door to his apartment, and headed towards the complex's dumpsters; he then had to pause a moment and think, he couldn't remember ever using them since he moved in. He felt the cold night air on his skin as he exited the complex. "How long has it been this cold?" He would often stroll the streets at night, plastered, and be none the wiser to the temperature, or whether he was presentable in the least. He simply didn't care. The doors to the dumpster creaked loudly, as he opened the doors, ending with a loud clank, he tossed the sacks in the bottles that were piled on his desk, and scattered about his apartment shattered, causing him to cover his ears from the noise and pain of sobering up.
Steve walked back towards the complex and tried opening the door. It was locked, he saw a sign next to the door that read, "Door auto locks after 10:00 p.m." He pushed the buzzer to call the apartment manager, wincing once again at the noise. The old speaker next to the buzzer crackled as the manager responded, "Yeah?" Steve pushed the button and spoke clearly, "Yeah, this is Steve from apart..." "Goddamnit again? Don't you ever learn you stupid drunk?" Steve paused a moment, not sure what to say, he pushed the button again saying, "Sorry, could you please let me in?" A long pause and then, "Are you sober?" Shortly after Steve heard light scuffling noises from behind the door and then the apartment manager opened the inner door.
"I was half tempted to let you stay out here all night." He sighed and continued, "but last time I did that, you used your bottle as a pillow and slept on the front steps until morning. Really didn't help this place's image any." He looked at Steve's face, "You know, it was about time you shaved." He opened the screen door slightly, Steve opened it and walked through. "I had a hard time keeping the image of you sprawled out on the front steps out of the newspaper; the reporter was convinced that I let hobos live here rent free."
"I'm really very sorry." Steve said, averting his eyes down towards the ground in shame.
"Some guilt will do you some good. You still owe me for past rent, and bailing your ass out of jail." Steve started to go up the stairs, "Twice." Steve tried to keep his cool. He wasn't mad at the manager, but himself. He vaguely remembers the first time he was arrested for stealing liquor from a pub. The second was last night, when he physically assaulted a friend, and destroyed many of his belongings, that had turned him down when he asked for money to buy booze.
Steve reached his apartment and noticed a statement on his door. It was an eviction notice. "Great, one week to find a new place." He had been so out of it he didn't know, or chose to ignore that it had been there for three weeks. Steve made quick work of the rest of the trash sacks and laid back down on his bed. "Finally done, but now what?"
Chapter Two
Steve woke up in the morning and headed into the kitchen. Everywhere he looked there were stains. The cupboards were so filthy he could wipe his finger across them, and gather dust in his nail. He picked up a carrier bag that contained different cleaning utensils, which he had purchased long ago. "Ok, time to make this place look fresh". Steve spent hours cleaning the filth from all the sides, cupboards and bagging any trash that was left over from the day before. He fetched the hoover to clean the floors in his bedroom and lounge. "How long had it been since this hoover was used?".
Steve felt hungry. It had been so long since he had cooked anything he wondered if he even had any food in the cupboards. He turned off the hoover, headed back into the kitchen and started to look through the cupboards. All he found was a couple of packets of cheap noodles. "Wow, what have I been eating". He used one of the recently cleaned pots to cook some noodles and sat back down on his bed. "This is the first day of the rest of my life".
Steve thought about what his apartment manager said the night before, "You still owe me for past rent...". He knew that the first step in regaining stability in his life was to take care of his needs, one step at a time. The problem was he didn't know how. In the past people had told Steve about counselling and therapy for recovering alcoholics. Steve thought this would be worth a try and phoned a local health centre for advice.
"Hello, this is the Health Centre", the woman on the other end of the phone said. Steve stuttered and couldn't get his words out. He put the phone down and thought about what just happened. "Am I too ashamed to ask for help?". He took a huge breath and picked up the phone to try again. "Hello", the woman said again. "Hi, I umm.. I would like advice for getting help with my drinking problem", Steve replied. "Ok sir, we have a few leaflets here you could come pick up and I can give you some telephone numbers to ring", the woman said. "Ok thank you, I will come pick up the leaflets later today. Would you mind giving me those numbers please?", Steve replied. The woman gave Steve the numbers for Alcoholics Anonymous and a local counseling service. After Steve put the phone down he felt so much better. He had taken a big first step by realizing his problem.
There was suddenly a stench of bad smell that hit Steve's nostrils. It had been a while since he had a shower. He went into his bedroom to check if he had any clean clothes because he couldn't remember the last time he had done laundry. Luckily enough there was a clean set of pants, socks and t shirt. He headed into the bathroom, turned on the shower and stepped in. The feel of the warm water against his skin was refreshing. Steve tilted his head up and felt the water brush against his face. "What a wonderful feeling". Steve started to sing different songs. He had always loved singing through his life and today felt better than any other to express his recent moment of happiness.
Steve finished getting ready. For the first time in ages he felt completely refreshed. Clean shaved, fresh breath and now ready to face the world. He picked up his half empty cigarette packet and dropped it in the bin. He headed towards the front door of his apartment, took a deep breath and composed himself. "Time to face the world".
Chapter One
Steve sat down on his bed, the metal coils squeaked under his weight, "Finally done." A twinge of pain caused him to bring his right hand to his forehead. He hasn't been this sober since his father died. He lit the cigarette in his hand to try to take the edge off, took a puff, and laid back hoping to relax. Every time he tried to close his eyes, he remembered what he had done the night before, "I am such a ****ing idiot." He took another puff of his cigarette, the smoothness of his face reminded him that he hadn't shaved in years.
Steve finished the cigarette, nearly by instinct he snuffed it out with his fingers, and before he flung it off in a random direction he stopped himself. He sat up and walked over to his trash can, surrounded by nearly a dozen or so sacks that seemed to dwarf his trash can. "I guess I'm too used to putting things off." He picked up two of the sacks and headed toward the door to his apartment. By the time he reached the door one of the sacks was starting to rip open, he paused to tie the top back off and nearly hurled over the ungodly stench that came forth.
Steve opened the door to his apartment, and headed towards the complex's dumpsters; he then had to pause a moment and think, he couldn't remember ever using them since he moved in. He felt the cold night air on his skin as he exited the complex. "How long has it been this cold?" He would often stroll the streets at night, plastered, and be none the wiser to the temperature, or whether he was presentable in the least. He simply didn't care. The doors to the dumpster creaked loudly, as he opened the doors, ending with a loud clank, he tossed the sacks in the bottles that were piled on his desk, and scattered about his apartment shattered, causing him to cover his ears from the noise and pain of sobering up.
Steve walked back towards the complex and tried opening the door. It was locked, he saw a sign next to the door that read, "Door auto locks after 10:00 p.m." He pushed the buzzer to call the apartment manager, wincing once again at the noise. The old speaker next to the buzzer crackled as the manager responded, "Yeah?" Steve pushed the button and spoke clearly, "Yeah, this is Steve from apart..." "Goddamnit again? Don't you ever learn you stupid drunk?" Steve paused a moment, not sure what to say, he pushed the button again saying, "Sorry, could you please let me in?" A long pause and then, "Are you sober?" Shortly after Steve heard light scuffling noises from behind the door and then the apartment manager opened the inner door.
"I was half tempted to let you stay out here all night." He sighed and continued, "but last time I did that, you used your bottle as a pillow and slept on the front steps until morning. Really didn't help this place's image any." He looked at Steve's face, "You know, it was about time you shaved." He opened the screen door slightly, Steve opened it and walked through. "I had a hard time keeping the image of you sprawled out on the front steps out of the newspaper; the reporter was convinced that I let hobos live here rent free."
"I'm really very sorry." Steve said, averting his eyes down towards the ground in shame.
"Some guilt will do you some good. You still owe me for past rent, and bailing your ass out of jail." Steve started to go up the stairs, "Twice." Steve tried to keep his cool. He wasn't mad at the manager, but himself. He vaguely remembers the first time he was arrested for stealing liquor from a pub. The second was last night, when he physically assaulted a friend, and destroyed many of his belongings, that had turned him down when he asked for money to buy booze.
Steve reached his apartment and noticed a statement on his door. It was an eviction notice. "Great, one week to find a new place." He had been so out of it he didn't know, or chose to ignore that it had been there for three weeks. Steve made quick work of the rest of the trash sacks and laid back down on his bed. "Finally done, but now what?"
Chapter Two
Steve woke up in the morning and headed into the kitchen. Everywhere he looked there were stains. The cupboards were so filthy he could wipe his finger across them, and gather dust in his nail. He picked up a carrier bag that contained different cleaning utensils, which he had purchased long ago. "Ok, time to make this place look fresh". Steve spent hours cleaning the filth from all the sides, cupboards and bagging any trash that was left over from the day before. He fetched the hoover to clean the floors in his bedroom and lounge. "How long had it been since this hoover was used?".
Steve felt hungry. It had been so long since he had cooked anything he wondered if he even had any food in the cupboards. He turned off the hoover, headed back into the kitchen and started to look through the cupboards. All he found was a couple of packets of cheap noodles. "Wow, what have I been eating". He used one of the recently cleaned pots to cook some noodles and sat back down on his bed. "This is the first day of the rest of my life".
Steve thought about what his apartment manager said the night before, "You still owe me for past rent...". He knew that the first step in regaining stability in his life was to take care of his needs, one step at a time. The problem was he didn't know how. In the past people had told Steve about counselling and therapy for recovering alcoholics. Steve thought this would be worth a try and phoned a local health centre for advice.
"Hello, this is the Health Centre", the woman on the other end of the phone said. Steve stuttered and couldn't get his words out. He put the phone down and thought about what just happened. "Am I too ashamed to ask for help?". He took a huge breath and picked up the phone to try again. "Hello", the woman said again. "Hi, I umm.. I would like advice for getting help with my drinking problem", Steve replied. "Ok sir, we have a few leaflets here you could come pick up and I can give you some telephone numbers to ring", the woman said. "Ok thank you, I will come pick up the leaflets later today. Would you mind giving me those numbers please?", Steve replied. The woman gave Steve the numbers for Alcoholics Anonymous and a local counseling service. After Steve put the phone down he felt so much better. He had taken a big first step by realizing his problem.
There was suddenly a stench of bad smell that hit Steve's nostrils. It had been a while since he had a shower. He went into his bedroom to check if he had any clean clothes because he couldn't remember the last time he had done laundry. Luckily enough there was a clean set of pants, socks and t shirt. He headed into the bathroom, turned on the shower and stepped in. The feel of the warm water against his skin was refreshing. Steve tilted his head up and felt the water brush against his face. "What a wonderful feeling". Steve started to sing different songs. He had always loved singing through his life and today felt better than any other to express his recent moment of happiness.
Steve finished getting ready. For the first time in ages he felt completely refreshed. Clean shaved, fresh breath and now ready to face the world. He picked up his half empty cigarette packet and dropped it in the bin. He headed towards the front door of his apartment, took a deep breath and composed himself. "Time to face the world".
