Conflicts

Creative writing challenge: An argument

Glass shattered on the marble floor with a deafening crash.

Ian was furious. Outraged, in fact.

He barely glanced at the million-dollar glass vase he destroyed. It made him feel better thinking about his father finding out about it and hopefully having a heart attack.

“IAN! How dare you!” his father roared. Ian swiveled his head around and found his wretched father stalking down the hallway towards him. His diamond-topped walking stick made an ominous tapping sound on the marble floor of the mansion. His pale gray eyes were flashing with anger, his movements were stiff and his tall, skinny body looked as if his skeleton was going to fall apart any minute.

“Yes, Father?” Ian suppressed his anger and replied in a strained but polite tone. But he made sure it sounded sarcastic.

“First you disobeyed me. Then you cheated and lied. Now you are damaging everything in your way!” his father gestured angrily at the vase.

“I didn’t damage EVERYTHING, Father. I merely scratched it,” Ian retorted.

“I knew passing on the family’s heirloom and fortune to Natalie was a right choice,” his father narrowed his eyes and leaned into Ian’s face like a hawk. That made him snap.

His sister, Natalie, was a normal, spoilt teenage girl who adored pop stars and was addicted to fashion, make up and lotions that stopped you from getting spots and kept your face young and looking good. She loved buying everything she wanted. She loved going to expensive international schools or colleges with elite training but flunking every quiz and exam. She was the kind of girl who doesn’t look at price tags or achievements. Simply putting it, Ian thought she was a disgrace to he family. They, after all, were a family of power and intelligence. His sister, on the other hand, was a complete idiot and had no sense in anything.  

“She is too young!” Ian yelled indignantly. “She will spend all the money on silly things like the newest collections of this season’s Prada or Agnes B. We could use it for more important things!”

“She may be young. She may be shallow. But she is much more innocent that you,” his father spat.

“INNOCENT!” Ian was practically screaming at his father. “You wanted brains, people, power. Now you want INNOCENCE?”

His father didn’t say a word. He knew where this was going.

“I manage half of your business, I run your Art Theft, Sniper Hiring and Illegal Shipping business and now you take my work for granted and give the fortune to NATALIE?” Ian widened his eyes at his father, blue eyes shining with disbelief and darted to his sister’s double mahogany doors that led to her quarters which was most probably filled with the smell of new shoes, bags, clothes and newly printed fashion magazines.

“Then what will YOU use the money for?” he father hissed, starting to pace slowly in a circle around Ian like a lion eyeing his prey.

Ian defiantly lifted his chin and straightened his back, “To carry on the family business, of course.”

“No,” his father growled in Ian’s ear. “I know you too well, my son.”

“You weren’t even here for half of my life, how do you know?” Ian cursed under his breath, remembering the plush chair at the dining table that was usually empty for all seven days of the week.

The padded, deep armchair that was always cold and unoccupied in the library. The bed that only needed to be made a few times a year as his father barely came back from unending businesses to take care of and rarely slept in his bed but rather his large armchair in his office. Ian wasn’t surprised if he had a blanket, pillow and a set of silk PJ’s with his father’s initials sewn in gold on it in his cupboard.    

If his father heard his comment, he didn’t seem to take any note of it, “You will close down all of my most money-making, illegal companies and keep running the rest. You will do stupid things like creating laboratories, sending men to Mars and probably making stuffed dolls for poor children. I would rather want my hard earned money to be wasted on things like shoes or nail polish rather than on your pathetic plans.”

“Why would you think of me like that?” Ian said innocently. After all, his father wanted innocence.

“Your mind his been washed by that somewhat angelic,” he spat out the word “angelic”, “girlfriend of yours. She changed you, my son. You are not the son I had before you met her. She BRAINWASHED you! Emphasis on the word ‘brainwash’.”

“Why don’t you just go to hell?” Ian snarled through gritted teeth. “Natalie might have the right to get the fortune when she’s 18 but I’m seventeen already. I will get it before her. In fact, I tried it today.” The his mind played back how he had stole a copy of his father’s will that he thought was the real one and used his best forgery skills to change the name. Unfortunately, he forgot to add the little tick when his father wrote “Ian” and completely wrecked the whole thing.

“You could be in jail by now,” his father sneered. “Rotting your life away.”

“I’d rather be in jail that have a father like you,” Ian scowled. That did it. His father’s pale eyes suddenly bugged and seemed to be trying to be popping out of their sockets. His frail hand clutched at his chest; almost as if to claw something open. Most probably his heart. His breathing grew rapid and shallow. His legs buckled and crumpled to the floor. Ian just stood there, watching his father fall.

With any luck, forever. Ian’s light blue eyes bored into his father’s, he whirled around, his golden hair falling in front of his eyes. He left his father on the floor, awaiting death.

The cleaners would find him the next morning but it would be too late.