Buck ends there...

(This is not exclusively mine. This is an inspired literary activity (some friends call it "one-liner") done by several individuals, including me, who still believes in the human value of written arts...maybe, haha--it was done by posting a reply to a comment on a facebook status until an idea, a poem, or a story, will take shape. I did some minor editing, for grammar purposes - even to my own posts, but then, feel free to raise comments. However, I am encouraging Literary criticisms which focuses on the interpretation of the story..Tnx!)

The Buck Ends Here ( a short story)

There was no text message for him that day. The emptiness of words numbed his warm body - her words drifted with the moist..no message for him that day. Indeed, ambivalence's cloak clouds over him, never before has anticipation been so sweet, only to be stained by waiting's vain bitterness. This gadget failed to provide him the noise he needed (or thought he needed), still, almost immediately he sat himself on his father's chair of forgetfulness- in front of the TV. "press ON"and it continued over and over again.

How boring and empty was it? Then, minutes before his phone would beep, his heart skips; something somewhere beneath the TV cabinet starts to light aglow - he intentionally left it there. He realized that he was not watching the TV after all, only the small screen of that celebrated gadget of technology. He picked it up. His heart throbs as he reached for it...even before he could reach it, a familiar sound reverberates. Shock and disbelief struck him. So many questions are now meant to be answered, but it was just an act of hope, which a simple gadget could not do. It wasn't a sound, he presumed after a longer glance and before the vivid screech: a book flipping on its own; and so, the message would wittingly contain: "the buck ends here".He was wrong, it doesn't contain any wit nor even a sensible message, only a puzzle, perhaps a code, he reads but does not understand ( it's essence)... But the gadget commanded attention, perhaps all gadgets do: A phone rings it must be answered or stopped. The text dragged him into a suspicious rumination- "the buck ends here", it was then that his father called him - yet the message from somewhere transported to him by the gadget haunts his sanity. Then again, he sat in a sullen silence, contemplating on something unreal.

He couldn't get it off his mind- puzzled..."the buck ends here"...? whatever the message meant, he knows it's time...somehow - the message wants to deliver something...(AND SO HE REPLIED WITH ALL CAPS) For another search, sanity is a vacuum cleaner as he walked past his dad recuperating his lost virginity of faith. Past his own dad - his father who is a politician and wondered why people thought that politics would complete the circle of success - education, name, wealth...then a position. He started pressing " W" , then decided to ask,"what?' “what must I do to show that I am (thinking what to say), he paused - "oh! this is crazy!", he said to himself. Now, he remembered or rather, realized that in his own people's circle of success, never was there any notion of "family" or "marriage"-- which was perhaps central to her people--or at least to her. His father called him once again- his father who was wearing that tainted old shirt, revealing a hint of what must have been dark blue, etched in what must have been silver linings. But he knew the etching didn't stop there. "Silver linings", was what he whispered with his dried, crackled lips. "The buck", he further pronounces, followed by a bellowed deep breath, pauses a while, then mumbles further, "ends here”. He wanes, then saw a tux, a tux that suits his personality, a man appeared in the mirror to check what it seemed to be a mere act of vanity and discovered the age that lies in his right temple; "twenty years", he whispered, then proceeded to the bathroom.

The urge of urinating transformed to a simple pleasure of natural relief (and still not relieved at all), “why”, he dreamily asks himself. Perhaps he desired a more carnal pleasure? His imagination almost took flight when the door bell rang, "why has it gone to this?" He thought. His eyes open with a blank stare. Steady, but focused at nothing. Nothing had registered into his mind, nothing audible to have meaning. As if the thought had blinded him momentarily. Then his thighs felt cold. It's the first common feeling his brain had been able to recognize in the last three minutes that he had been standing there. His eyes gained focus again. Then, he jumped back at the sight of his pants, wet with his own fluid. The door bell rang some more, and yet he did not move a bit. There was a feeling of victory, however suspicious, in ignoring his father, the door bell and the text message. Looking at his "mess" he decided to leave them all behind. "The hell would I care...why would I bother now?", he said with much remorse as if someone from the realm of his imagination is real. He ignored the persistent noise of the door bell. He instead started to contemplate on that day..that very day. He can still hear his father say..".... "When are you going to start thinking about your future?" "When will I see you make money for yourself and contribute to society?! Have you even seen yourself in the mirror lately? Look at you! You filthy and useless blob of frustration!" then he escaped from the words that had been chanting a morbid melody and decided to continue thinking... "why bother about the society? the society dictates whatever it wants anyway”, but no matter how mighty his words were, he will still remain unyielding, abjuring. The sun sets.

Three days later their house is barricaded with the words "Police line Do not Cross". Inside the house, the chair of forgetfulness is etched in blood- his father's. The details of the murder were very enigmatic. They found the lacerated body in the toilet where he once stood and thought of "it" - where he would start losing himself to an idea, even he himself would consider "monstrous"...where he had not only excreted his liquids, but also his sanity...