Hey guys, here's a response to a writing prompt from Stephen King's On Writing. It was meant to show you that writing a story without planning out the plot can still go well. I wrote this in one sitting but it isn't edited. The idea was that Jane was a victim of Dick in a typical domestic violence scene you'd see in a police blotter. But instead of writing it in that fashion, switch the genders and write the story that way. No plotting.
Richard opened the door to the house and sighed. Some alone time was just what the doctor ordered. He had dropped Nell off at his niece's birthday part with promises from his brother and sister-in-law to watch her.
"Go. Keep unpacking," Rob said. "And for fuck's sake get some rest. You look like you haven't slept in ages."
"You're right, the trial's finally finished."
"I know, but it's over now. She'll be gone for a while."
Rob was right, after all. But he still couldn't even close his eyes without thinking of the incident.
---
He sat with Nell on the patio of the coffee shop taking a rare breather after picking her up. It had been six days, three hours and thirty-one minutes since the restraining order was issued. Catching her driving by his apartment building for the seventh night in a row was the last straw. He had hoped that this would let her know he was serious and she hadn't appeared in the six days since. Maybe things were finally looking up for Nell and him.
A screech of tires had drawn him out of the senseless conversation with his daughter. He looked up just in time to see Jane's car come to a stop across three parking spots. This also drew the attention of the waitress too, who spoke up just as she arrived at the table to take his order.
"Ma'am, you can't park there."
"Shut up, you whore." Jane yelled as she turned to him.
"Is this the woman you are cheating on me with?"
"Jane, what are you doing here?!"
Richard stood up and placed his daughter behind him.
"Mommy!" she squealed, sticking her head around his leg.
"Jane, you know you can't be here."
The waitress, recovering from her initial shock, said, "Ma'am, I'd like you to lea-"
The feel of Jane's smack had silenced the waitress, who immediately teared up in shock and pain, then ran inside to call the cops.
"First, the divorce, then the restraining order, now this!"
"Jane, you're scaring Nell. Do you honestly think that I'm here - with my daughter - meeting some new woman? That that new woman is the waitress at the coffee shop I go to maybe once a month when I'm in this neighborhood? That even if I had met someone new that I'd give a shit what you think? We got divorced two years ago, and that was after a year of physical abuse."
As if to punctuate his thought, she smacked him.
"Don't speak that way in front of our daughter."
Still calm, he said, "She's not your daughter any more. You saw to that when you hit her in front of everyone. At my Christmas party. At my work. Which you weren't invited to."
Picking up a knife from the table, Jane's face turned from anger to pleading.
"Please, she's the only thing I have left anymore. You can't keep her from me. I'll kill you."
All the old fears flooded back to him. The threats of violence, the actual violence. He still had the limp from a drunken night that began with a broken glass and ended in the hospital. His thigh, on the best days, still felt as though it had a fresh sunburn on it.
He moved himself and his daughter such that the table would be between himself and Jane, should it come to that.
She stabbed the knife into the table and said, "I just want things back to the way they were. Is that so much to ask?"
In answer, a police car came screaming up, and as soon as it came to a halt, the two officers leapt out with guns drawn.
This was three weeks ago and the trial had just ended. She was sentenced to a five year minimum for assault with a deadly weapon the presence of a minor, plus another year for violating the restraining order. That was six years minimum in state prison. Thank god the nearest prison was five hours away.
Today was the first day since she was sent to prison, and as a sort of victory present, his family had chipped in and helped him rent a house. They had done the hard work for him and moved all his belongings in to the new place.
He stepped across the threshold and sighed, half in relief and half in resignation at the job of unpacking.
---
It had taken him half the day but he had gotten Nell and his bedrooms in some semblance of working order. The living was acceptable as he clicked on the TV. The news had started as he walked into the kitchen to put on a pot of water for tea.
"A cup of tea and a brief break before picking Nell," he said. He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"... in the 9th inning as the Rockies beat the Phillies. Finally, tonight's game in L.A. has been postponed. The Pirates look to make it up in their next home stand against the Dodgers."
"Six years of freedom," he sighed. It sounded too good to be true.
"Thanks James. Now back to our top story this evening," the anchor droned. "State Police are on the lookout for a female inmate who is still on the loose after a daring escape today that leaves two guards and an inmate dead, and another two inmates in custody."
He bolted up and stared at the TV
"Fuck."
It was at that moment that he put together some pieces from his day of unpacking. Boxes weren't where he had remembered them. A faint smell that he couldn't initially recognized locked home.
"What's Jane's perfume doing here?"
At that moment, he heard footsteps on the stairs from the basement. He bolted to the door and, in panic, threw open the door.
"Hello, Richard," she said.
Terrified, he fell backwards onto the floor.
"What- What are you doing here?"
She stepped out of the darkness and into the kitchen. In her hands was a gun he surmised was stolen in the jailbreak.
She smiled, " I guess you already heard from the news. I told you you couldn't keep me from Nell."
She motioned with the gun for him to sit down at the table and he complied.
"Where is she, Dick?"
"I'm not telling you Jane. She doesn't need you in her life."
"Bullshit! She needs a mother. Besides, you've probably been lying about me the whole time."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
She paced around the kitchen, alternating between fury and cold compassion as she ranted at him.
"You've always been against me. Always wanting to hurt me. I couldn't figure out your game when we started dating, but back then you were the gorgeous guy of my dreams. Who was I to question? We had a good couple of years before - Don't you fucking nod."
He hadn't moved but her turn to wistfulness had him seriously concerned.
"I thought Nell was our way out. But you didn't wait a year before you started seeing someone else!"
She was back to fury and she took a step towards his knife block. She grabbed the biggest knife she found and turned back to him.
"Why did you have to do this to me? I loved you like I never loved someone before. Nell even more so. I just want to be together again. Back to the way things were."
She pointed to him with the knife.
"But you, you want me gone so you can have Nell all to yourself. She's beautiful, isn't she?"
""What are you talking about? Are you drunk?"
"She set the gun down on the table and turned to the fridge. As she opened it, he noticed that half of his beer was missing. She had been drinking and it is about to continue. He had to end this before she killed him.
"He went for the gun and leapt from the chair. As the chair crashed behind him, he knocked the gun on the floor. She turned, sensing his movement, and slammed the knife down through his hand and into the table, pinning him prone to the table.
"His vision went cloudy as the pain seared through him.
""FUCK!" he yelled, more powerful than he has ever done before. All of the adrenaline and strength left him as he lay on the table, blood pouring from his hand.
""Look what you made me do, dick!" she said.
""I have to go pee," she added casually, "Don't go anywhere."
"As she walked out of the room, the world that was his kitchen slowly returned.
"This is my chance was the thought that barreled its way through the front of his mind. He grabbed the knife with his good hand and tugged at it. No luck as the knife did nothing but shoot more pain through his hand.
"I can do this he willed himself, between grunts of pain. He grabbed the knife again, and with an exhale and all the strength he could, he pulled the knife from the table. He stifled a curse into his shoulder as the second most painful experience coursed through him.
He picked up the knife and hurried up the stairs to his bedroom. As he ducked behind the door cursing the pain of his hand, he heard the flushing toilet. The distant sound of footsteps on the carpet as she she entered the kitchen.
"DICK!" she roared, "Where the fuck are you? I'm going to kill you."
He heard her climb the stairs as he realized he probably left a blood trail straight to him.
She kicked in the door as she entered what was to be Nell's room. He heard her tear apart the room. She yelled and cursed when she entered the hallway, not finding him.
"I'm going to find you! There's only one other room up here."
She turned on the light in the bedroom and stepped in, gun raised in her hands.
He yelled at the top of his lungs as he jumped at her. Startled, she let off one and then a second shot as she turned towards him. It was too late as he closed the distance and plunged the knife into her breast, feeling the knife scrape past a rib and into her lung.
Jane grunted and dropped the gun in surprise, her breath coming in gurgles.
Between the shock of stabbing her and the sensory overload of the gun being fired and the throbbing of his hand, something deep in his animal mind loosed. He withdrew the knife and stabbed her again in the stomach. Again and again he stabbed her.
We have to end this the animal yelled in his mind.
He stabbed her an additional 5 times before humanity returned to him. He dropped the knife out of shock at the horrific act he committed. He made his way down the stairs nearly falling down the stairs every couple of steps. He collapsed onto the couch.
"Its over," he said as he passed out on the couch
---
He was jolted awake by the sound of pounding at the door. He stumbled to the door as his adrenaline rose again, fear of having to explain himself to the police driving his steps.
He opened the door to see Rob and Rachael with his daughter Nell.
"Daddy! Daddy! Look what Unkie Rob gave me!" she squealed. She held up something he did not really see as she passed him.
"Hey, we thought you may have taken a nap after unpacking when you didn't answer the phone. We stopped over with leftovers!" said Rachael. She walked towards the kitchen.
Out of panic, he yelled, "Don't go in there!"
They looked at him with concern as he darted past them into kitchen. He saw no evidence of the awful events that took place there.
Confused, he muttered as he made his way to the stairs. "I don't get it."
He rounded into his bedroom after taking the stairs two by two. The body wasn't there. No blood. No bullet holes. He backed to a wall as he realized his hand didn't hurt.
As he raised it into his vision he saw nothing. He slumped down and heard his brother yell up. "Are you okay?!"
"I don't know."
8.6.13
New story
Hey all. Thanks for reading my prologue of sorts. I'm finished with a rough plot and am finishing a character outline. I expect to start writing it Monday or so. Hopefully I can write it well enough to try and pitch it to some magazines or something and get published. Anyway.
Cheers and good hunting!
30.5.13
Unnamed Story
They say that The Empire started humbly; one man with a dream of freedom. Of course, that isn't true. Empires are a mixture of both coincidental timing and being the right person at the right time. He didn't begin his quest knowing He'd set up The Empire, or that He'd be known as the one to free the worlds.
He spoke of the injustice that existed under the Trade League. How He wanted the billions of people just like His family not to have to live on the farming quotas. How they watched everything they made be divvied up to the nearest League captains to have it shipped off to the center realms for a pittance in return. How He joined the burgeoning rebellion militia to learn their ways. Fought in the minor rebellions not only to figure out how they operated but also to find the best resistance fighters to work for his cause. He didn't think He was special.
Sometimes the historians and priests call it providence. As if, regardless of how the Chemics protested and stated it was nothing more than coincidence, God (or Gods depending on whichever religion was popular at the time) put him in the situation to change it all.
To tell you the truth I did it because I was bored of the League. I let the test run it's course and the League lost. He always said He was just the right man in the right time. He was always like that. Going on without noticing even the most obvious of courses I forced Him down, as if He didn't realize my hand at work. I have said He with the capital H because they still worship Him to this day. Half a Galactic rotation later and it's still all about Him.
What a Joke.
Either way this test is done. The 'Great Free Empire' is dying. The Regents have turned despotic without one of His kin in charge. Of their own doing of course, having murdered His line long ago without the public suspecting. They hoard the Empire's treasure for themselves. The 'Age of Light' is flickering out but they don't see it.
You. You will be called the Destroyer. The Ender of the Empire. Although to be fair it's just another empire in a long list of empires spanning back to the dawn of time. Of course, to them it is "the Empire." You will be, simultaneously, loved by those who see the corruption and despised by those who do not.
I tell you all of this for two reasons.
One, your story is not your own but that of every other great change sent upon this galaxy of ours. Your story is for the future, as were all the past tests.
Secondly, and more to the point, you won't remember any of it.
Fear not my little Cosmic Lab Rat, for I will be there to ensure you do what I need. Whenever you feel as if you have no other choice, feel as though you must stay on course or die, that will be Me at work. You will not feel it or know it but I will remember you. The people will not remember you as a person. You will be the epitome of hatred, yet you will restart it all. You will set them free.
Now wake.
He spoke of the injustice that existed under the Trade League. How He wanted the billions of people just like His family not to have to live on the farming quotas. How they watched everything they made be divvied up to the nearest League captains to have it shipped off to the center realms for a pittance in return. How He joined the burgeoning rebellion militia to learn their ways. Fought in the minor rebellions not only to figure out how they operated but also to find the best resistance fighters to work for his cause. He didn't think He was special.
Sometimes the historians and priests call it providence. As if, regardless of how the Chemics protested and stated it was nothing more than coincidence, God (or Gods depending on whichever religion was popular at the time) put him in the situation to change it all.
To tell you the truth I did it because I was bored of the League. I let the test run it's course and the League lost. He always said He was just the right man in the right time. He was always like that. Going on without noticing even the most obvious of courses I forced Him down, as if He didn't realize my hand at work. I have said He with the capital H because they still worship Him to this day. Half a Galactic rotation later and it's still all about Him.
What a Joke.
Either way this test is done. The 'Great Free Empire' is dying. The Regents have turned despotic without one of His kin in charge. Of their own doing of course, having murdered His line long ago without the public suspecting. They hoard the Empire's treasure for themselves. The 'Age of Light' is flickering out but they don't see it.
You. You will be called the Destroyer. The Ender of the Empire. Although to be fair it's just another empire in a long list of empires spanning back to the dawn of time. Of course, to them it is "the Empire." You will be, simultaneously, loved by those who see the corruption and despised by those who do not.
I tell you all of this for two reasons.
One, your story is not your own but that of every other great change sent upon this galaxy of ours. Your story is for the future, as were all the past tests.
Secondly, and more to the point, you won't remember any of it.
Fear not my little Cosmic Lab Rat, for I will be there to ensure you do what I need. Whenever you feel as if you have no other choice, feel as though you must stay on course or die, that will be Me at work. You will not feel it or know it but I will remember you. The people will not remember you as a person. You will be the epitome of hatred, yet you will restart it all. You will set them free.
Now wake.
13.3.11
March 13
I've gone back and forth with my therapist over each session this week about this. I still don't know if I can do this. I can't get past the first like 5 sentences before I find myself on the floor trying to control my breathing like she taught me or over the toilet dry heaving.
I do seem to be getting deeper into this story, well okay maybe only one or two sentences but that's something right? Maybe Julie is on to something?
So anyway here it is again from the start. I can already feel the nausea hitting but less so than last week.
I was about 6 or so at the time and I believe it was a fall day because as I mentioned I can really feel the crisp air hitting my lungs to this day.
I was running through the wooded park near by playing tag with the neighbor kids. I saw two trees close together that I knew I could shoot through to get to a good hiding place right behind it. Since I was a kid I decided to go through it instead of around it. Probably the worst decision of my life.
I shot through the trees and instantly felt the strands of spiderweb hit my face. It was awful. Those wisps that you never quite see but always feel. But I was 6 and this wasn't exactly new as we always played in these woods.
What happened next still haunts me to this day.
I felt something move.
Oh god
I can do this
Just keep typing
you can do this
you can-
I felt something move against my cheek.
That awful feeling. I can taste my adrenaline rising as it did then. That awful bitter feeling as your brain goes in to full on panic mode. Ready to kick off fight-or-flight. My heart is racing right now but I must get through this.
I screamed as hard as I could and started tearing at my cheek. It was that idea that this spider was caught between the web and my face. That it was some huge monster that will most definitely kill me if I couldn't get it off first.
It's too much
Not today.
Previous entry here.
I do seem to be getting deeper into this story, well okay maybe only one or two sentences but that's something right? Maybe Julie is on to something?
So anyway here it is again from the start. I can already feel the nausea hitting but less so than last week.
I was about 6 or so at the time and I believe it was a fall day because as I mentioned I can really feel the crisp air hitting my lungs to this day.
I was running through the wooded park near by playing tag with the neighbor kids. I saw two trees close together that I knew I could shoot through to get to a good hiding place right behind it. Since I was a kid I decided to go through it instead of around it. Probably the worst decision of my life.
I shot through the trees and instantly felt the strands of spiderweb hit my face. It was awful. Those wisps that you never quite see but always feel. But I was 6 and this wasn't exactly new as we always played in these woods.
What happened next still haunts me to this day.
I felt something move.
Oh god
I can do this
Just keep typing
you can do this
you can-
I felt something move against my cheek.
That awful feeling. I can taste my adrenaline rising as it did then. That awful bitter feeling as your brain goes in to full on panic mode. Ready to kick off fight-or-flight. My heart is racing right now but I must get through this.
I screamed as hard as I could and started tearing at my cheek. It was that idea that this spider was caught between the web and my face. That it was some huge monster that will most definitely kill me if I couldn't get it off first.
It's too much
Not today.
Previous entry here.
5.3.11
March 5
So after today's session, Julie told me that I still need to do this.
Okay. So here we go.
We were playing tag and I had just decided to run between two close trees. As I said it was dusk so it was really hard to see anyway.
I remember distinctly the feel of the cooler air as I ran through trees. As soon as I cleared the trees I felt it. That normally annoying but benign feeling of the spiderweb on my face. That thi-
Sorry I had to get some air. I think I got this now
That feeling of the invisible awful filaments of nothingness just sticking to my face. Now this wasn't exactly a new feeling for me as it was the woods and I was a kid but this time something was different.
As I went to remove it from my face like anyone would, I felt it.
There in my cheek something moved. Oh god it was awful. I-
I still can't do this
Next entry here.
Previous entry here.
Okay. So here we go.
We were playing tag and I had just decided to run between two close trees. As I said it was dusk so it was really hard to see anyway.
I remember distinctly the feel of the cooler air as I ran through trees. As soon as I cleared the trees I felt it. That normally annoying but benign feeling of the spiderweb on my face. That thi-
Sorry I had to get some air. I think I got this now
That feeling of the invisible awful filaments of nothingness just sticking to my face. Now this wasn't exactly a new feeling for me as it was the woods and I was a kid but this time something was different.
As I went to remove it from my face like anyone would, I felt it.
There in my cheek something moved. Oh god it was awful. I-
I still can't do this
Next entry here.
Previous entry here.
3.3.11
March 3
So my therapist told me to keep this journal as a way to get my issues out of my head and
well
I guess to work through them in a 'productive' way. She says it's generalized anxiety caused by my arachnophobia which causes paranoia. She says it's best to start at the beginning and stop wherever I feel like stopping. Pick it up again, etc.
So I guess, here we go.
It started when I was a kid. I'd say it's about 6 or so. Typical 'burbs life. Play outside until dark with the neighbor kids etc. On a night much like any other we were running through a wooded park area a couple blocks over. I can remember it vividly. Still have nightmares about it even.
It was just about dusk, that sunset time where things just become impossible to see. We're playing tag and I'm looking for a place to hide. I go to skirt through two trees and hit a spider web. Oh god that awful feeling of the near invisible strings on my face its
I
I can't do this.
Next entry here.
well
I guess to work through them in a 'productive' way. She says it's generalized anxiety caused by my arachnophobia which causes paranoia. She says it's best to start at the beginning and stop wherever I feel like stopping. Pick it up again, etc.
So I guess, here we go.
It started when I was a kid. I'd say it's about 6 or so. Typical 'burbs life. Play outside until dark with the neighbor kids etc. On a night much like any other we were running through a wooded park area a couple blocks over. I can remember it vividly. Still have nightmares about it even.
It was just about dusk, that sunset time where things just become impossible to see. We're playing tag and I'm looking for a place to hide. I go to skirt through two trees and hit a spider web. Oh god that awful feeling of the near invisible strings on my face its
I
I can't do this.
Next entry here.
25.6.07
Zomby
I still can't believe it happened, I thought 'It's happening in other places, so maybe it's all a hoax.' It was about 7 or 8 A.M. in State College when the reports are flooding in. London, Cairo, Moscow, Shanghai, São Paolo, Atlanta. Zombies, that's what the media was calling them. I don't know.
I remember the watch said 3:21. The power was off for a couple of hours. The radio said it was because they'd sprung up everywhere. DC was a mess, Philly was practically all on fire, New York wasn't even worth mentioning. I happened to contact my girlfriend before the phones went down. She was okay, given the circumstances, but Detroit was a mess and what she heard was that the ... well the infection was spreading her way, I told her to bunk down with her family and that I was coming to get her. I called my parents and demanded that they come up here and I make sure that they were safe for the time. They wouldn't hear of it, my brother was still missing at the time, he lived in Philly so you know. I decided to leave and not argue any more with my parents.
It was about 7:15 when I saw my first zomby. I was skirting the city of Pittsburgh trying to remember my way to my grandfather's to check in on him. I couldn't find it so I gave up around 6 because, sadly enough for him, I had more pressing priorities. Anyway, outskirts of Pittsburgh, I jumped back on the 76 highway which was completely deserted. I have a feeling the turnpike was going to be the same. I was driving back to the 76 highway and I slowed down to see a car crash, cause, like any good human being, I love carnage. I was just passing by when I saw a pair of legs being dragged into the bushes and I stopped. I mean dead stop right there on the highway. I peered closer, because legs just don't get drug by themselves. That's when he - or she, or maybe even it? - appeared out of the bush. It looked around and finally saw my car. At the time I remember thinking to myself, 'What the hell? How did it know to look around to make sure it wasn't alone?' I kept along that line of thinking when I heard a cry or a howl, I don't know how you describe it because I had never heard it before. That's when I saw my second... third... and fourth zombies of my life. They seemed to have coordinated with each other. Staring at me, seemingly pondering another food source, they looked down at their current catch, looked back at me, growled something amongst themselves and drug the poor soul off. I immediately sped off in horror at the discovery I made.
I got to the Ohio turnpike entrance about 45 minutes after that. I admit, I was speeding, probably doin' 85-90 the whole time. There was no one in the booths, so instead of stopping and getting a ticket, I burst through the sign. Let me tell you, it's kinda thrilling knowing you can break these laws now, cause the cops seemingly have nothing better to do.
I remember the watch said 3:21. The power was off for a couple of hours. The radio said it was because they'd sprung up everywhere. DC was a mess, Philly was practically all on fire, New York wasn't even worth mentioning. I happened to contact my girlfriend before the phones went down. She was okay, given the circumstances, but Detroit was a mess and what she heard was that the ... well the infection was spreading her way, I told her to bunk down with her family and that I was coming to get her. I called my parents and demanded that they come up here and I make sure that they were safe for the time. They wouldn't hear of it, my brother was still missing at the time, he lived in Philly so you know. I decided to leave and not argue any more with my parents.
It was about 7:15 when I saw my first zomby. I was skirting the city of Pittsburgh trying to remember my way to my grandfather's to check in on him. I couldn't find it so I gave up around 6 because, sadly enough for him, I had more pressing priorities. Anyway, outskirts of Pittsburgh, I jumped back on the 76 highway which was completely deserted. I have a feeling the turnpike was going to be the same. I was driving back to the 76 highway and I slowed down to see a car crash, cause, like any good human being, I love carnage. I was just passing by when I saw a pair of legs being dragged into the bushes and I stopped. I mean dead stop right there on the highway. I peered closer, because legs just don't get drug by themselves. That's when he - or she, or maybe even it? - appeared out of the bush. It looked around and finally saw my car. At the time I remember thinking to myself, 'What the hell? How did it know to look around to make sure it wasn't alone?' I kept along that line of thinking when I heard a cry or a howl, I don't know how you describe it because I had never heard it before. That's when I saw my second... third... and fourth zombies of my life. They seemed to have coordinated with each other. Staring at me, seemingly pondering another food source, they looked down at their current catch, looked back at me, growled something amongst themselves and drug the poor soul off. I immediately sped off in horror at the discovery I made.
I got to the Ohio turnpike entrance about 45 minutes after that. I admit, I was speeding, probably doin' 85-90 the whole time. There was no one in the booths, so instead of stopping and getting a ticket, I burst through the sign. Let me tell you, it's kinda thrilling knowing you can break these laws now, cause the cops seemingly have nothing better to do.
25.4.07
Unnamed
Coming into our bedroom full of concern, she lies down beside me and snakes her hand into mine. "Well? Did you get signed up? Was it packed?"
"Sorta, and no." Sometimes I'm a man of few words.
"What do you mean 'Sorta'? The Army's not full or anything."
"Just 'cause there's a war on, dear, doesn't mean that they're drop all the red tape. Just have to wait until tomorrow for the test results. I'm just a bit upset. The guy there is a racist, and I'm not sure there's anything I can do about it. Just plain rude."
"I'm sorry, baby. I'll make it up to you, promise." And with that she rolled over to me with a devilish grin. The rest of the night was filled with --- well, it's none of your ruttin' business. No offense, you see, but I'm of a mind that what goes on in the bedroom stays in the bedroom. Just like Vegas, but you don't know what that is.
Some sweaty, exhausting, enjoyable hours later, I was still awake. Staring up at the ceiling is an old past time of men, be it stone, brick, wood, or stucco. Was this really what I wanted? Would I really make the Special Forces? Why do people like Swiss cheese? I spent a good deal of time that night, pondering these questions, mainly the last one. I mean, it's really disgusting; no one can honestly like it. So I'm not a serious person, I'll admit it. Coming to the conclusions of: no one really likes Swiss, I shouldn't have had the pizza, and I was fully committed to the Army.
"Sorta, and no." Sometimes I'm a man of few words.
"What do you mean 'Sorta'? The Army's not full or anything."
"Just 'cause there's a war on, dear, doesn't mean that they're drop all the red tape. Just have to wait until tomorrow for the test results. I'm just a bit upset. The guy there is a racist, and I'm not sure there's anything I can do about it. Just plain rude."
"I'm sorry, baby. I'll make it up to you, promise." And with that she rolled over to me with a devilish grin. The rest of the night was filled with --- well, it's none of your ruttin' business. No offense, you see, but I'm of a mind that what goes on in the bedroom stays in the bedroom. Just like Vegas, but you don't know what that is.
Some sweaty, exhausting, enjoyable hours later, I was still awake. Staring up at the ceiling is an old past time of men, be it stone, brick, wood, or stucco. Was this really what I wanted? Would I really make the Special Forces? Why do people like Swiss cheese? I spent a good deal of time that night, pondering these questions, mainly the last one. I mean, it's really disgusting; no one can honestly like it. So I'm not a serious person, I'll admit it. Coming to the conclusions of: no one really likes Swiss, I shouldn't have had the pizza, and I was fully committed to the Army.
Unnamed
Part two
But this is nowhere near when the actual problems started.
I guess I'm getting ahead of myself. First we present, then we analyze, no? I'll tell you how I got to be here, and then I'll tell you why we had to go through this. Okay, okay, it'll be my opinions and truths as I see them, because, in the end, it's our own opinions we ever have.
So, for me, it all started off right before the bombings. The war was escalating and there was significant speculative evidence that there was outside, state-sponsored involvement. I had been getting anxious over the upcoming graduate school tests and had already decided that I'd get in shape for the military for the god-forbidden chance that I don't get into graduate school. Either way, I didn't hear about it at first. I was out running the usual five-mile trek I've been doing for, what felt like, time immortal. I came home and got ready to take a shower and flipped on my TV. There on the screen were the horrifying pictures, horrific home videos of an apparent mushroom cloud. I knew in an instant that that was all the encouragement I needed. I talked it over with my girlfriend, and she persuaded me to wait until there was evidence that it was an actual attack on our country from another country. You see, I had always told her that if we were to be attacked again, I'd sign up and make sure I kill some bastards.
Eventually they proved that it was indeed an attack on our country and we went to war with the rude, sucker punching, love-hating, war-mongering country -- I got caught up with it all, at the time. Marching in to the recruitment center, I pronounced to the surprisingly empty room, "I'd like to sign up for the military."
"What branch, kid? Maybe the Coast Guard? Won't be too hard on a green like you. None of that harsh work or anything," responded a quite grizzly man whose looks alone would be enough to dissuade the weak-minded.
Puffing out my chest in an act of defiance I hit him with the most assurance I could muster. "The Army, of course, maybe even the Special Forces. Nothin' but the best for me." That'll show 'im. "I've been getting in shape for the Army anyway, this just --- accelerated the decision," I added, with a slight nod of my head.
"Well good, boy, need some tough, dedicated sons of bitches to get those sand niggers that back-stabbed us." I instantly lost my grin and self-pride at that. There's no call for rude manners, even to the most hideous of enemies. Shooting a man dead is all the payback I'd ever need.
"Back in the day, we wouldn't need anything more than your blood on the devil's contract to get you off to boot camp. Nowadays, with all these rules and regulations and sign-up bonuses and all this bullshit, you need to take tests, fill out forms, sign things in triplicate, and dig up your great-great grandfather's grave for his own approval. You know, the red tape." With that, he pushed me into a back room, taking my height and weight, testing my eyesight, and running a couple of other tests. After that it was time for the testing. A breezing hour later I was finished with my sign up process.
"We can't officially sign you up with this until I get your test results back. I know a guy in the grading center who'll rush yours through before all these other snots sign up. We'll let you know tomorrow," and he shoved me out the door with a warning to go sleep on my decision and come back tomorrow assured that I know what I'm wanting to do.
Back at my apartment I grunted hello to my girlfriend, grabbed some day old pizza, and headed to the bedroom to do some soul searching.
But this is nowhere near when the actual problems started.
I guess I'm getting ahead of myself. First we present, then we analyze, no? I'll tell you how I got to be here, and then I'll tell you why we had to go through this. Okay, okay, it'll be my opinions and truths as I see them, because, in the end, it's our own opinions we ever have.
So, for me, it all started off right before the bombings. The war was escalating and there was significant speculative evidence that there was outside, state-sponsored involvement. I had been getting anxious over the upcoming graduate school tests and had already decided that I'd get in shape for the military for the god-forbidden chance that I don't get into graduate school. Either way, I didn't hear about it at first. I was out running the usual five-mile trek I've been doing for, what felt like, time immortal. I came home and got ready to take a shower and flipped on my TV. There on the screen were the horrifying pictures, horrific home videos of an apparent mushroom cloud. I knew in an instant that that was all the encouragement I needed. I talked it over with my girlfriend, and she persuaded me to wait until there was evidence that it was an actual attack on our country from another country. You see, I had always told her that if we were to be attacked again, I'd sign up and make sure I kill some bastards.
Eventually they proved that it was indeed an attack on our country and we went to war with the rude, sucker punching, love-hating, war-mongering country -- I got caught up with it all, at the time. Marching in to the recruitment center, I pronounced to the surprisingly empty room, "I'd like to sign up for the military."
"What branch, kid? Maybe the Coast Guard? Won't be too hard on a green like you. None of that harsh work or anything," responded a quite grizzly man whose looks alone would be enough to dissuade the weak-minded.
Puffing out my chest in an act of defiance I hit him with the most assurance I could muster. "The Army, of course, maybe even the Special Forces. Nothin' but the best for me." That'll show 'im. "I've been getting in shape for the Army anyway, this just --- accelerated the decision," I added, with a slight nod of my head.
"Well good, boy, need some tough, dedicated sons of bitches to get those sand niggers that back-stabbed us." I instantly lost my grin and self-pride at that. There's no call for rude manners, even to the most hideous of enemies. Shooting a man dead is all the payback I'd ever need.
"Back in the day, we wouldn't need anything more than your blood on the devil's contract to get you off to boot camp. Nowadays, with all these rules and regulations and sign-up bonuses and all this bullshit, you need to take tests, fill out forms, sign things in triplicate, and dig up your great-great grandfather's grave for his own approval. You know, the red tape." With that, he pushed me into a back room, taking my height and weight, testing my eyesight, and running a couple of other tests. After that it was time for the testing. A breezing hour later I was finished with my sign up process.
"We can't officially sign you up with this until I get your test results back. I know a guy in the grading center who'll rush yours through before all these other snots sign up. We'll let you know tomorrow," and he shoved me out the door with a warning to go sleep on my decision and come back tomorrow assured that I know what I'm wanting to do.
Back at my apartment I grunted hello to my girlfriend, grabbed some day old pizza, and headed to the bedroom to do some soul searching.
21.4.07
A new story
I've started a new story. It's also got no title for it either. I guess I'll come up with a title later. I'm gonna bust it up into parts. When I'm finished with it all, as far as I can tell, then I'll put it all together, and publish a full story.
Unnamed
Part one
I guess if one were to go back and try to guess where it all started, they'd say right after they bombed us. Wiping it off the map, they'd say, is what caused this stupid messed up state we're in now. Erasing criticism for the ongoing wars, unifying the country in a march against the perpetrators. What's this? You don't remember what happened? I keep forgetting I've lived so long that the entire war, slaughter more like it, is now just a history books in what went wrong with humanity.
The Enemy, the spooky, nebulous description was what we called them, from there after. The extremists that decided to take their religious fanaticism to an extreme and detonate a nuclear bomb off in the city. It was that simple. It was that complex. Anyway, for the short version: They weren't some simple backwater terrorist organization, these were state sponsored, the worst of them all. We were leafleted right after, in all the major cities, telling us that this was our own fault. Should never have provoked them, they said. Weep not for those who were sacrificed to their ridiculous god, they declared; it was only to show us the true path!
But this is nowhere near when the actual problems started.
I guess if one were to go back and try to guess where it all started, they'd say right after they bombed us. Wiping it off the map, they'd say, is what caused this stupid messed up state we're in now. Erasing criticism for the ongoing wars, unifying the country in a march against the perpetrators. What's this? You don't remember what happened? I keep forgetting I've lived so long that the entire war, slaughter more like it, is now just a history books in what went wrong with humanity.
The Enemy, the spooky, nebulous description was what we called them, from there after. The extremists that decided to take their religious fanaticism to an extreme and detonate a nuclear bomb off in the city. It was that simple. It was that complex. Anyway, for the short version: They weren't some simple backwater terrorist organization, these were state sponsored, the worst of them all. We were leafleted right after, in all the major cities, telling us that this was our own fault. Should never have provoked them, they said. Weep not for those who were sacrificed to their ridiculous god, they declared; it was only to show us the true path!
But this is nowhere near when the actual problems started.
20.4.07
Tuesday's Daydreams
I'll tell you now that these are dealing with current events.
And before some random person reads this and thinks too much, I would NEVER EVER do anything of this sort. You are warned, those who would judge me.
Handing my plate to the folks at the bar, I ask for a fajita and a chicken Cosmo, the norm. After adding on the fixings that go along with such food. Sitting down with the papers, like every other lunch, I start watching TV. Suddenly a bunch of yelling erupts. Turning to see what's up, the gunfire starts. Some guy's yelling, "You're all to blame," "You made me do this," and all manner of other rude things. I mean, here I am having a nice lunch, albeit the same lunch I usually have, and in comes this unruly troglodyte ruining everything. Anyway, he's facing the dessert bar making a mess of the cakes and, honestly a pile of people that were just trying to eat pizza. I look at some other random, nondescript jock of a college student and we nod at each other and very quietly stand up and get near him. "NOW!" I yell and we charge, tackle and restrain him, before he can waste any more of our time.
"And Alex Rodriguez hit another amazing bomb to left field, sealing the deal for the Yankees."
I look up from my fajita to notice that no one's rudely ruining lunch for me. Man, I really need to get my head checked. Chomp, chomp I go on my Cosmo, just to hear the same sort of rant from the same sort of man in my weird twisted fantasy. This is getting ridiculous. I stuff some more food in my mouth to stop myself from laughing, look up, then notice that this time it's not that dude from before. It's some crazy, and kinda cute, chick yelling about how if she can't have some dude, no one's gonna have him. And she looks like she's aiming for making sure no one has any food either. I tell you, people are really rude in my daydreams. I look around for that big dumb jock and I can't find him. Thinking nothing of it I try recruiting others. No luck there. I guess being a hero really is a solitary job. Quietly stalking up near enough to dash at her, she turns, and with those devil horns and blazing eyes, stares me down and I try looking like I wasn't there. Nothing doing, I see her squeeze the trigger and things start to go slowly. I almost see the bullet leave the chamber of the rifle and BAM --
Someone's dropped a chair. "Tigers aren't doing that bad this year, Chuck," and I look up again. Jeesh, it's getting no better.
And to top it off, I finished my fajitas and sandwiches while I was getting slowly murdered by the devil equivalent of Carla from Scrubs --- I did just have a sex dream about her, I really should stop watching so much Scrubs. Screwing my lunch and whatever it is, I get ready to go, only to notice now I'm wearing a cliché trench coat and for some reason, an AK-47 is under my coat. Now that just isn't right, I wasn't even wearing a coat when I came in, it was like 60 out. Blinking now I'm the one who's ruining the dessert bar and aerating the pour folks just trying to enjoy their day. Huh, that's odd. Only this time, I remember quasi-me sitting in the corner, and mow them down too. This is easier than I made those simpletons make it look. Wait a second, they're not falling down, they're just cursing me and running for cover. Looking down, I notice that the AK isn't an AK anymore and now is a paint-ball gun. I back up and bump over the glass stand.
"Looks like the Pistons are golden for the playoffs," and someone's dropped a glass. Wow, I'm loosing it. Chuckling to myself and ignoring the glares of the others, I walk out, putting my tray on the conveyor belt and enjoy the creepy qualities of my mind.
And before some random person reads this and thinks too much, I would NEVER EVER do anything of this sort. You are warned, those who would judge me.
Handing my plate to the folks at the bar, I ask for a fajita and a chicken Cosmo, the norm. After adding on the fixings that go along with such food. Sitting down with the papers, like every other lunch, I start watching TV. Suddenly a bunch of yelling erupts. Turning to see what's up, the gunfire starts. Some guy's yelling, "You're all to blame," "You made me do this," and all manner of other rude things. I mean, here I am having a nice lunch, albeit the same lunch I usually have, and in comes this unruly troglodyte ruining everything. Anyway, he's facing the dessert bar making a mess of the cakes and, honestly a pile of people that were just trying to eat pizza. I look at some other random, nondescript jock of a college student and we nod at each other and very quietly stand up and get near him. "NOW!" I yell and we charge, tackle and restrain him, before he can waste any more of our time.
"And Alex Rodriguez hit another amazing bomb to left field, sealing the deal for the Yankees."
I look up from my fajita to notice that no one's rudely ruining lunch for me. Man, I really need to get my head checked. Chomp, chomp I go on my Cosmo, just to hear the same sort of rant from the same sort of man in my weird twisted fantasy. This is getting ridiculous. I stuff some more food in my mouth to stop myself from laughing, look up, then notice that this time it's not that dude from before. It's some crazy, and kinda cute, chick yelling about how if she can't have some dude, no one's gonna have him. And she looks like she's aiming for making sure no one has any food either. I tell you, people are really rude in my daydreams. I look around for that big dumb jock and I can't find him. Thinking nothing of it I try recruiting others. No luck there. I guess being a hero really is a solitary job. Quietly stalking up near enough to dash at her, she turns, and with those devil horns and blazing eyes, stares me down and I try looking like I wasn't there. Nothing doing, I see her squeeze the trigger and things start to go slowly. I almost see the bullet leave the chamber of the rifle and BAM --
Someone's dropped a chair. "Tigers aren't doing that bad this year, Chuck," and I look up again. Jeesh, it's getting no better.
And to top it off, I finished my fajitas and sandwiches while I was getting slowly murdered by the devil equivalent of Carla from Scrubs --- I did just have a sex dream about her, I really should stop watching so much Scrubs. Screwing my lunch and whatever it is, I get ready to go, only to notice now I'm wearing a cliché trench coat and for some reason, an AK-47 is under my coat. Now that just isn't right, I wasn't even wearing a coat when I came in, it was like 60 out. Blinking now I'm the one who's ruining the dessert bar and aerating the pour folks just trying to enjoy their day. Huh, that's odd. Only this time, I remember quasi-me sitting in the corner, and mow them down too. This is easier than I made those simpletons make it look. Wait a second, they're not falling down, they're just cursing me and running for cover. Looking down, I notice that the AK isn't an AK anymore and now is a paint-ball gun. I back up and bump over the glass stand.
"Looks like the Pistons are golden for the playoffs," and someone's dropped a glass. Wow, I'm loosing it. Chuckling to myself and ignoring the glares of the others, I walk out, putting my tray on the conveyor belt and enjoy the creepy qualities of my mind.
19.4.07
I'm lazy
Okay, okay, okay. So I didn't really post it when I said I would. I lost inspiration on Sunday and then got distracted and almost forgot about this all. I'm currently reworking on my first story and I'll see if I can't get it finished soon, in the mean time, I'm gonna write some daydreams I had yesterday.
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