Home » Random Reads » -Pumped Up Kicks-

-Pumped Up Kicks-

Blood.

It was everywhere.

A pool of blood on the floor appeared to be glowing as it reflected the light of the only dim single watt bulb hanging in the middle of the room.

I looked down at my hands, stained red with the blood of another.

My shirt was stained too.

Red with the blood of another.

Robert’s got a quick hand

He’ll look around the room

He won’t tell you his plan

 

     The dream was my recurring nightmare. But I never ever knew how it ended. I always woke up in the middle of the nightmare – breathless. I didn’t cry. At least, that’s what I told myself. But if I looked at myself in the mirror after I woke up, I’d be sure to find tear tracks.

My nightmare.

It was haunting.

It was daunting.

I couldn’t sleep.

 

He’s got a rolled cigarette

Hanging out his mouth

He’s a cowboy kid

     Daddy was never around and mom was never really there. I stayed with my Aunt Jenna. She treated me like her very own kid. She wasn’t very rich but she still got me ice cream every Sunday. She was nice.

Still, she wasn’t my mother.

 

Yeah! He found a six-shooter gun

In his dad’s closet, with a box of fun things

I don’t even know what,

But he’s coming for you

Yeah, he’s coming for you!

 

     I used to stay with daddy when I was really young. But how ever hard I try, I don’t remember much. I have just a few memories of my daddy. I treasure those like anything.

All the other kids with the pumped up kicks,

You better run, better run, outrun my gun.

All the other kids with the pumped up kicks,

You better run, better run, faster than my bullet.

 

     “My daddy serves our nation. He’s in the army.” boasted 10 year old Tim. Sally’s daddy owned a hospital. Roger’s was a doctor. Jack’s dad worked in a bank. Chris’ was a fireman.

Jeremy’s daddy didn’t stay with him. His parents were divorced. He hated his dad for walking out on them. I liked Jeremy.

We had one thing in common.

 

All the other kids with the pumped up kicks,

You better run, better run, outrun my gun.

All the other kids with the pumped up kicks,

You better run, better run, faster than my bullet.

 

     One day, Aunt Jenna had a very important meeting. She had to leave me alone and go. She was really worried. I told her not to worry so much. I was big enough. She smiled her sad smile. She got me ice cream that day. It wasn’t even Sunday! I was happy. She said bye and shut the door.

For the first time in as long as my 12 year old self remembered, I was alone.

 

Daddy works a long day

He be coming home late,

And he’s coming home late

 

     I ran into Aunt Jenna’s room and tried the cupboard handle. It was locked, as I expected. I ran to my room and came back with a thin long stick. It was actually my Aunt’s bob pin which I had borrowed a year back, to pick locks.

The cupboard was open in under a minute. I then looked at the last drawer in the corner. I tried the handle, knowing fully-well that it was locked. I stared at the drawer. I knew it contained daddy’s stuff.

I was just wondering if daddy knew what I was doing.

And he’s bringing me a surprise

‘Cause his dinner’s in the kitchen

And it’s packed in ice

 

My daddy was convicted of murdering a young 10 year old boy.

He was in prison.

 

I’ve waited for a long time

Yeah, the sleight of my hand is now a quick-pull trigger

I reason with my cigarette,

Then say, “Your hair’s on fire,

You must have lost your wits, yeah?”

 

     I opened the drawer. I knew what I was looking for. I was twelve but I was smart for my age. Even the teachers agreed to it. I emptied the drawer and tapped the bottom. It was hollow. A false bottom. I smirked.

I put my weight on one end. The base tilted slightly. I prised it open and pulled up the false bottom. I stared into the drawer.

A plain white envelope, layered with two years of dust, stared back up at me.

 

All the other kids with the pumped up kicks,

You better run, better run, outrun my gun.

All the other kids with the pumped up kicks,

You better run, better run, faster than my bullet.

 

Dearest son,

I want you to know that this is the hardest letter I ever had to write. But you need to know the truth. Aunt Jenna will give you this letter when you will be old enough to handle it.

I know I wasn’t the best father in town. I used to pick pockets. But I only did it because I wanted you to have a better life. I guess that’s not a good enough excuse though.

Still, you must have been wondering how a pick pocket would go to the extreme of murdering a kid in cold blood. That too, a kid who went to the same school as his son.

Tim was a good kid. But he was a show off. He said some mean things about your old man & you took it to heart. I take the blame son. I should have never showed you where I kept my shooter-gun. You were pretty good at picking locks. I was proud of you.

I am proud of you, son. I’m sorry for not being around. I know you will do well in life. You’re a smart kid. Take care of yourself & Aunt Jenna.

I love you.

Daddy.

All the other kids with the pumped up kicks,

You better run, better run, outrun my gun.

All the other kids with the pumped up kicks,

You better run, better run, faster than my bullet.

 

Ironically, after reading the letter,

I never had the nightmare again.

-The End-

Song Credits

-Foster The People-

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