I Am A Stick Novels & Stories

He yelled and was about to hit the heavy stick on me but I caught the stick with my hand. He was shocked when I grabbed it from him. "You should all stop this, I am not a thief" I said but he still wanted to hit me and I had no choice but to hit the stick against his arm. He groaned loudly and fell on the floor. I believed that it was a mistake to fight him but I had to defend myself. Others came at me but one by one I hit the stick on them but before I could defend myself again, someone hit my back with a stick and then the number of sticks hitting my body doubled.

Anything. My eyes scanned the cell again, flickering from the loose patch of stone in the corner to— There. A broken stick—thin, long enough, maybe strong enough. I crawled over to it, my limbs trembling, my fingers barely working as I reached out. “Come on,” I whispered. “Just… a little closer…” I finally got hold of it and shuffled back to the cell door. My fingers trembled as I shoved the stick into the lock, awkwardly twisting, hoping something would catch.

“Maybe you’re stronger than you look, but you’re certainly not very smart are you?” They laugh again, and then Alice gestures for one member of the group to move forward. My stomach drops when I realize he’s holding a stick. He hands it to Alice. “This is going to be fun.” Alice rears back and I close my eyes just as the stick makes contact with my stomach with a thud. By the time the third person takes their turn with the stick it’s almost easy ignore the sound of my ribs cracking under the weight of their blows. I inhale sharply, as another hit lands, but grit my teeth. I will not beg them for mercy.

Hе ѕоundѕ lіkе a puppy thаt’ѕ brought me a stick. I knоw the kіd’ѕ juѕt trying tо be a gооd сор, but I’m аbоut done wіth lооkіng at thе fасеѕ of vісtіmѕ for nоw. Sucking uр mу nеgаtіvе shit, I tell hіm I’ll juѕt fіnіѕh my workout, аnd hіt thе ѕhоwеrѕ. “Put her іn rооm 2 to wаіt. I wоn’t be lоng.”

“I’m stuck. I’m stuck with this…. with this… with everything. I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with everything and nothing!” My eyes fill with tears at the hopelessness I hear in her voice. Panic takes over my mouth. “You’re not stuck. You’re not stuck. No one is ever really stuck when she has friends.” “Friends? Friends?!” Her voice is rising again, so I grip her harder and start patting her on the back, really fast. It’s almost me whacking her at this point, but I don’t stop.

I stoop for the stick like a man trying to pick up a dropped promise, and the world says: nope, you don’t get that one back. I hear someone shout “Two-hand it!” from the sidelines. It’s not encouragement, it’s description. I plant my feet and squat like I mean it. Thank God for small mercies. The right-hand stick is all I’ve got left: they may measure the same, but they feel different.

He then handed me a heavy stick and a soft glove. “Raise this stick morning and evening every day, then in the afternoon, keep hitting this tree hard till it falls down to the ground. You have three Good luck” He left and again, I started. Every day I would raise the heavy stick yelling while I did then I would punch and punch until my hands were sore. *******

A contented sigh escapes my lips, as if the water has quenched my thirst and revitalized my senses. As we rise to our feet, we return to the spot where the sticks lie before he graciously hands me one. With a determined expression, he assumes a defensive position and swiftly moves his hand towards me, signaling the start of our friendly duel. In response, I quickly adopt a sturdy stance, gripping the stick tightly as I begin to swing it with the grace and precision of a seasoned swordsman.

It’s on my window! I jumped in fear as I switched on my lamp and stood up. I walked towards my closet slowly and reached out for the first thing in sight. A hockey stick. I held it tightly as I walked on my tip toes slowly towards the window. “W…. Who’s there” I stuttered as I was shaking in fear. There was no reply. I wouldn’t blame the person. Or thief should I rather say. My voice was extremely low to only my hearing. “Who’s there?” I said loudly.

Non-threatening so that I could just get answers. Pulling my arm back after a minute or so, I rubbed it like there were cobwebs on my arm. Feeling the residue of another pack was weird and even more so when I had no intention of going on any pack territory moving forward. Sitting on the hood of Thing, I pulled out my drum sticks and started to hit some beats just on the metal between my legs.