Liquor Cabinet(very short story I wrote.)

[Depression101]

This is a very short story I wrote somewhere else but I think it has a place on this site. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.


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What would happen if he got caught was about as mysterious as what happens after death. He wore slippers to muffle his footfalls and he synchronized the turning of the knob with the roar of a passing-by car preluded by a sheet of light running across the walls. His parents would make him sleep outside for a fortnight if they knew he was out of bed. He dreaded what they would do if they found out he was out of bed, and he didn't even want to think what would happen if they knew why he was stalking around that house at midnight.

John eased the door back behind him and approached the dark oak cabinet affixed to the wall above the table; he took a bobby-pin out of his pocket and pushed it into the lock. He twisted the bobby-pin with the skill of an expert thief even though his hands shook. If they would make him sit in a fucking closet for ten hours and eat some measly under-cooked steak for Christmas dinner, he would have his own fun. The lock clicked. His prize gleamed in the moonlight streaming in through the window. He reached out for it when the floorboards upstairs creaked; suddenly, light spilled out over the stairs. One of them was using the bathroom. Thank God that was it.

In the cabinet stood a bottle of gin, dark brandy and crystal-clear vodka. John lifted out the vodka and examined it for any markings indicating the level of liquid. He found a black line just above the label. He erased it. He glanced upstairs and back to the cabinet before continuing.

John uncapped the bottle. It smelled of freedom and rebellion, bitter and strong. John took a good chug. A wave of warmth filled his body.

The wave drew back to reveal a burning in John's throat. He wiped his lips, popped a tic-tac and a drew a new line with black marker. All noise upstairs stopped, but John took no chances. He moved with the softness of a pillow, hoping those tyrants were asleep.

John's heart pounded like a heavy-metal drummer. John started hyperventilating and his vision blurred. He mounted the stairs while steadying his shaking legs.

Calm down. No one ever died because of a small sip, John thought. His hands shook as he clutched the banister to pull his faltering legs up the stairs. I'll pull myself into bed and never drink a drop again! He was nearly there. Just two more steps.

A paroxysm of pain shot through John's head and his legs gave out as he tumbled down the stairs and crashed against the front door. His parents stood at the head of the stairs, shadowed and unmoving.

"He's been a bad boy, has he not, dear?" John's mother said.

"Shame about the alcohol," her husband said; "now we're going to have to throw it out... There's nothing to counteract the toxin, is there?"

[Avatar Korra]

This... *-* I felt both the rebellious joy and the anxiety(my heart actually pounded for a bit) in this. Not many stories have made me feel scared, free, eerie, pissed, uncertain and curious in such a short amount of time.

"suddenly, light spilled out over the stairs."
At first I just saw "spilled" and thought the drink spilled and I panicked for a second. xD
Also, his parents made him sit in a closet for 10 hours?!! o-o
At the end... did he die? Were the parents he saw just a negative illusion he saw before death. If not... they cared more about the alcohol than him? Did they poison it themselves?


Ohhhhhhhhmyyyyyyyyyyygyaaaaaaaarrrrrsssssshhhhhhh. O_o

Also, I like your similes.
"John's heart pounded like a heavy-metal drummer."

~Dep101 The Imagery Master~

[Depression101]

Thank you. You really do flatter me, although I feel I don't deserve it. And what I love about stories is that what happens at the end is left up to the reader. To me, the parents did care more about alcohol than their son, but it is just as valid to assume that the toxin caused him to see funny things and that John's hatred for his parents tailored that hallucination for him. And if it's too painful to assume the characters is dead(I hope my work can get that good sometime), it's just as fair for the reader to assume he's tripping balls at a hospital while the parents are getting hauled off to jail. Some people like a story to be definite, I like people to include their own beliefs and opinion into art.

Anyway, glad you enjoyed, and have a good day/night.


Edit: I have about four more stories I uploaded to creepypasta wikia, since I had nowhere to upload them. I could upload here, though I feel this is best effort. I'm not sure should I, since only one of them is kind of rebellious and anti-school in nature.