A Shortness Of Something Valuable – Short Story

“You think just because you have the ability to do something, that it then gives you the right?” Barnaby hisses through clenched teeth while pointing a firm finger towards Gavin. They share a moment of silence before Barnaby slaps Gavin powerfully across the face with his other hand.

Saliva and blood leap from Gavin’s mouth and falls to the floor reminiscent of juice erupting from a engorged apple as teeth bite pierce its soft flesh.

“WELL BOY!” Barnaby yells as he slaps Gavin across the face once more, this time with the back of the same hand. The room freezes, then moves in slow motion as a stream of blood gracefully dances alongside Barnaby’s hand until it comes to a stop at his side. Time resumes at its normal speed, and Barnaby’s knuckles show the results of the force used as all four of his knuckles throb red with anger and Gavin’s cheek hangs opens like a chasm opening from a volcano, as the ring that adorns Barnaby’s index finger tore Gavin’s cheek open from all the intricate designs in the face of the ring.

“Your mother god rest her soul, was right about you boy. The stubbornness you carry in your veins is not mine or hers, you are an agent of the devil sent to test us in our times of need. You will not tempt my vessel, or hers vile demon spawn!” Barnaby yells as he raises his hand once more, readying it to deliver another blow upon his son.

“I fucked the whore and she liked it,” Gavin says with a wry smile on his face.


“I said,” Gavin says with an even broader smile. “I fucked the whore and she liked it!”

Barnaby feels the sweat explode from his forehead, and his lower lip tremble. “Y-Y-Y-You be g-g-gone vile BEAST!” he screams as he pulls a cross that hangs around his neck up, and into Gavin’s face. “BE GONE, AND BE GONE!”

“Be gone, and be gone? That makes little to no sense old man.  I just told you that I anally fucked your wife, the mother of your fifty gazillion children, and all you can say is, be gone, and be gone.  You’re right when you said that you’re not my father, because my father would’ve either fucked me in the arse back, or joined me in fucking the old hag.”


“What, what old man?” Gavin says as he launches forward and grabs the cross out of his father’s hand and throws it to the floor, then knocks his father to the ground.

“P-P-Please, what are you going to do to me?”

Gavin smiles broadly once more, as he undoes his belt. “What you should’ve done to me.”

“No please, don’t defile m…”

Gavin grabs Barnaby and forces him on his stomach, pulling down his pants as he does.

“Shut up old man, and if I was you I’d be relaxing your sphincter muscles for this one. I’d hate to tear you a new one, while I’m tearing your old one apart,” Gavin says with glee as he trusts himself into Barnaby, who screams in agony.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Fiction & Ideas

Stories, thoughts, and musings

Only 100 Words

a 100-word story every day

My Vivid Blog

."Vivid" is my handy, all-purpose word, and this is my handy, all-purpose blog.

Mindlovemisery's Menagerie

A dose of fetish. Good friends. An incomparable muse.

Eugi's Causerie

a place to chat

Go Dog Go Café

Where writers gather


free writing prompts for free, and free

Sammi Cox

Author Aspiring

My Random Ramblings

stories, poems and more

Allison Marie Conway

I write about Desire. Sex. Longing. Pain. Darkness. All of it.

Grim's Crypt

Where the dark ones roam.

Poetry by C. Eve

I am the First Eve.

The intricacies of my insanity

where the impossible seems three shorts steps to the left, and one giant leap into insanity...

A writer & her adolescent muse

writing, writers, & worlds (of my own making)

Cyranny's Cove

Refuge of an assumed danophile...

Isabel Caves

Poetry, Fiction & Photography

My Musings

My life; My views!

%d bloggers like this: