I love stories. I love reading stories, and writing stories and consuming interpretations of stories. I love when words can fill me with the emotions of a character, and so I too am living out the narrative of the story. The recent stories I have been getting into are the Earthsea saga by Ursula Le Guin, The Ancient Darkness Series by Michelle Paver, and many more. I also consuming stories through other mediums such as video games and films, or tv series. The other stories I have been consuming are The Dark Crystal, The Witcher, Skyrim, Final Fantasy VII and IX, and Tales of Vesperia.
I recently watched the Netflix series The Story of God with Morgan Freeman, a documentary that looks into different "unanswerable" questions through the many religions around the world. I highly recommend the series if you have Netflix, it gives details into other interpretations of death, apocalypse, heaven and hell, good and evil and even what is God. Having grown up with compulsory Christian teachings, I relish the chance to get to study other religions and their viewpoints. When you live in the Scottish Highlands, it's only in recent years that you will see a face that isn't pastey white! Diversity would do us some good I think.
I watched The Story of God around Easter time and it made me want to watch one of my favourite animated movies of all time - The Prince of Egypt by Dreamworks. It is a beautiful movie depicting the story of Moses, focusing on the bonds of brotherhood first before the history of the Hebrews, making it a very human interpretation that makes you feel sorry for Ramses and understand his plight, even though he is the villain of our story. But them Dreamworks tried to achieve the amazing success of The Prince of Egypt again with Joseph: King of Dreams. This biblical story interpretation was not so great and there is a reason why it was straight to DVD. But there was something about both these movies that made me interested in taking the morals and narrative of a biblical story, and then incorporating it or modernising the story.
Back when I was still in school we were tasked to write a short story based on an existing narrative as part of my 5th Year Higher English class. I decided to work from a biblical story as that was something I was interested in the time. So for this blog post I want to share it with you today. Based on the story of Cane and Abel, this short story was written in 2011 when I was 16 years old - so don't be too harsh on me, this was written nearly a decade ago (eek I suddenly feel old!) So I present to you, my brothers keeper. And for anyone wondering, this essay was graded a 1, which is equivalent to an A+.
My Brothers Keeper
Colours flash by salty grey and distilled blue, and the suffocating smell of blood reeks on me. I stare out the train window seeing swirls of graffiti in a world gone joyless and grey. Opposite me a prim woman wearing a snake pendant tutts and mutters "disgraceful," under her breath. Never broken a rule in her life. Bet she's never known what it is to be jealous, to have it eat into your very soul. Still, graffiti is merely an inkblot when I think on what I've done. Looking down at my hands I can still see, still feel, the deep stain of blood that no amount of scrubbing can ever remove. I shudder a bit and the snake woman's companion slants me a questioning look, then returns to his book. Suddenly it is his face that thrusts itself into my mind. Grasping my head, I slump back and butt my forehead gently against the window. The man's eyes flick toward me again and I squeeze my eyes shut, blotting out the images, frightened he can see them too and read my guilt as easily as he can his book.
*****
Three hours earlier, walking toward the block of flats I'd felt a flutter of nerves in the pit of my stomach. With a quick breath, I quieted them away. I'd practised what I'd say to my younger brother, how I'd confront him, and it would take more than a moment's hesitation to put me off. This was not the first time that Abel had stolen from me. But I needed it to be the last. Being less than a year younger than me, Abel had followed me through my school years and had essentially made the same friends as me. Friends were one thing, of course, girlfriends were something else entirely.
Rapping on the door I strode straight in. It was an impossibly neat home and its equally neat owner stood, a little startled, by the kitchen door.
"Cain!" My brother's tone seemed to convey genuine pleasure. "It's good to see you. Coffee?"
I shrugged acceptance and followed Abel into the kitchen. "That's not why I'm here," I said stiffly.
"Oh?"
Abel's lack of concern jarred and I sat down quickly at the table and fiddled with a small salt bottle.
"So what's wrong?" he asked. "Are you okay?"
I sighed, feeling tension in every fibre of me, and began to explain my feelings for Ellie; how Abel's new attachment toward her was just not on. Heat began to spread up my neck and I felt the remorseless hammering of my heart. "So I need you to back off, understand?" I finished curtly.
"Well that's a bit unfair," Abel said with a light laugh. "I've known her just as long as you have. And besides, we've already been out together – twice – and things are going …really well," his voice tailed off wistfully.
I felt the heat spread to my face and it reddened. "Unfair?" I said shrilly. "I just spilled my guts out about Ellie being the one for me, and you accuse me…me… of being unfair!"
"Now hold on," Abel's eyes widened in bemusement. "I didn't realise how you felt, I guess I was too caught up myself. But I've certainly never hidden my feelings. You know me Cain," he said contritely, "I've always worn my heart on my sleeve."
Oh yes, I knew Abel all right. Always acting the wounded hero, the amiable innocent, and wrapping everyone, especially mum, around his little finger. Everyone except me. I'd always seen through Abel's little games. An emotion so sharp it felt like a spear stabbed through my chest and I felt a surge of rage. I slammed the salt bottle back on the table. "You betrayed me," I hissed.
An injured expression flitted over Abel's face. "Now steady on," he said quickly.
"No, you betrayed me," I said again, spitting each word out through clenched teeth.
The kettle was boiling noisily and clicked itself off. Abel made a small dismissive sound and turned away to pour water into the waiting mugs. His casual, almost nonchalant action brought on a fresh surge of venom.
"Have you…have you and her…?" I couldn't bring myself to say the words.
Abel held my glittering black stare for a moment, then sighed and nodded.
"You bastard."
"I'm sorry," he ventured, and picking up a spoon from the drainer he began to stir sugar into my coffee.
My first blow struck him squarely in the back and he whirled around, his eyes widening in shock. He said not a word, the breath knocked from his lungs, but I could hear his voice bleating in my head, telling me I was "overreacting." I punched him again, in the face this time, and he tried to defend himself with his hands but there was no hiding from my murderous rage. Eventually, bloody-faced, he took a swing at me and clipped my shoulder.
There were other things waiting in the draining rack; I saw the bright gleam of steel and lunged for it. I hardly felt the weight of the knife such was my fury. The sight of Abel's face whitening with shock only fuelled that fury and I drove the knife home with indescribable relish.
*****
It took some time to clean the blood off my hands and I had to change into one of Abel's shirts, mine was so splattered and stained. Blood still rimmed my fingernails but I told myself with some satisfaction that no one would even notice. It was his own fault; everything had always been Abel's fault.
As I slipped quickly out of the main door of the block of flats I almost ran straight into my mother, coming to visit Abel no doubt. Her favourite.
"Cain!" her face lit with delight. "Have you been visiting your brother? You don't need to rush off just yet, do you?"
I glanced down at my hands, made some feeble excuse. Her eyes followed mine and registered concern then, recognising Abel's shirt, took on a more quizzical note. She seemed to be trying to probe through my skin, to read the very thoughts in my heart. "I have to go," I said roughly.
"Where's Abel?" she said.
"What am I?" I snapped. "My brother's keeper."
*****
I can still feel her eyes on me; her unease, and I shift in my seat turning to stare out of the train window again. She and I could have been so close, if it hadn't been for Abel. Stealing her love for me, always stealing from me. I am jolted from my thoughts by the shrill sound of my mobile ringing. Mum, it says on the screen.
I purse my lips together; she'll have found him; she'll know. I have a sudden memory of the three of us, long ago, sat on a tartan rug in the park drinking homemade lemonade and eating jam sandwiches and laughing together. Such a long time ago, but the image crushes me with its poignancy. What have I done?
I pick up the phone. "Mum?" the word makes my eyes prick.
"Cain, are you alright?"
A small wounded sound escapes from my lips. "No."
"Oh Cain," she sobbes. "My beautiful boy. What have you done?"
My voice cracks as the enormity of what I've done crashes down on me. "A terrible thing," I whisper.
"You can never come back," she says. "I've lost both of you. I've lost both my beautiful boys."
My mouth dries as I realise she is going to protect me. Incredibly, despite what I've done she will not betray me to the police. She must, I realise for perhaps the first time, love me as deeply as she did Abel.
"Oh, God," I groan.
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