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NeoGAF Creative Writing Challenge #70 - "Horror"
- Thread starter John Dunbar
- Start date
- Status
Cyan said:
*another hand pops up*
This stuff is super hard. I don't think I'm exposed to horror enough. My attempts are coming out as comedy. But I think some of you won't have a problem at all: just stick with "write what you know about" since I remember hearing about freaky roommate situations and sinks turning on while you're home alone, etc.
Man, it's freaky to even THINK about this stuff late at night!
crowphoenix
Banned
Nothing from me this time. It's been a crazy week, and the stress of these grad school rejections has my stomach in knots. Not a valid excuse I'll admit, but it is what it is.
ThoseDeafMutes
Member
Tangent said:
Tasmania, Australia.
crowphoenix
Banned
I have written before, and I will write again. Missing one challenge doesn't revoke my qualifications. It just means I'm human too.Ashes1396 said:
Raymond lived with his kids, all 6 of them, in their suburban house ever since the divorce. He loved his kids beyond the normal paternal instinct for protection. The extent would become uncomfortable for onlookers on some occasions, but those who were close to Ray knew that this was just an extension of his intense affection.
Some of the closer relatives would get worried sometimes though. When Ray and his wife were together, they lost their first two kids to miscarriage, and one was killed in a tragic car accident. After these life-altering losses, Raymond and Alexandra became very overprotective of the rest of their kids. They had more kids after the miscarriage, and these kids were overprotected to the point of smothering. Then the car accident occurred. That weighed in too heavily on Ray, who in essence cut out all contact of the remaining kids to the outside world. Alexandra became aware of what sort of undue pressure they had been putting on their kids. She blamed themselves as parents for the death in the car crash, but Ray utterly rejected this notion.
Dont you want your kids to be safe? asked Ray, with a voice laden with trembling emotion
You dont see it? We are the reason why bobby sneaked out that night. We were too strict on him and thats what killed him!
Alexandras tone was cold and calm in contrast to Rays.
Are you out of your mind, woman? If anything there was too little discipline! Had we observed him more closely, we might have saved him and he might be right here in our arms right now.
Youve gone totally insane! I cant be left dealing with your bullshit day after day! Im leaving and taking the kids with me
Alexandra did take the kids with her, but her victory was short-lived. The court battle for custody was tilted more on the side of Ray due to him being more presentable and sympathetic to the jury. Whenever Alexandra was legally allowed to meet her children, she started to notice their changing, indoctrinated state. Even though she had studied psychology in college, she was feeling utterly powerless in this situation, helpless in that the safeguards designed to prevent such situations were the ones who perpetuated them. But her utmost concern as a mother was the fact that she was not able to raise her children well. She was not able to help them even though she knew what horrific cuts to their psyche were being ingrained by Ray.
A year after the divorce, she could barely even make conversation with the kids. They would fail to recognize her outright. This became too much for her. Every bit of mounting emotion led to her committing suicide in her apartment room where she had been living. Funny how easily a rational mind was beaten to a pulp by emotional brute force.
Several years later, Ray had completely stopped keeping in contact with his relatives and friends. He felt that they were too intrusive and were leading to a compromised display of values for the kids. Some of the kids were now close to legal adulthood. This would have worried Ray previously, but now he had everything planned out for the kids. Such meticulous attention to detail, a crying shame that the kids were oblivious to it.
Kids, tomorrow, I shall be bringing home a surprise, so be ready!
The kids cheered in what was perceived to be unison by Ray. The loudest scream came from Rays daughter Sabrina, who was going to be 18 years of age next day.
Its weird seeing teenage kids behaving with the cognitive capacity of younger kids. It was bafflingly strange to the next door neighbor a couple of years back, when three of the kids were playing on the lawn. It was one of the very rare occasions when they were seen out in the open. Their pale skin and weak eyes, made their presence known even in the faint evening sun. The neighbor was doing his routine weekly trimming of the hedges. Thats when he noticed the peculiar way that the eldest of the three was throwing baby-like tantrums to have all three pieces of the ration chocolate that they had all together. The eldest must have been about twice the age of both the other children, but was still throwing tantrums with a fake cry which looked so sincere that dissonance ultimately kicked in. That was the last time the neighbor and any of the kids saw each other.
The next day ray left home very early to get work started on his surprise. He had shadowed several women during the early twilight hours. Women who would have otherwise gone for abortions. He had convinced a lot of them to let him adopt the kids once they gave birth, taking any financial responsibility upon himself. The prostitutes, of course, were more than happy to oblige. Ray was going to reveal the adopted children to his own. That was supposed to half of the surprise.
The adopted kids were put into the basement for the time being. As soon as his kids woke up, along with Sabrina, they started speculating as to what exactly the surprise could be. Ray had always been a master of reveal with every one of his previous surprises. These surprises had their impact mainly due to the fact that the kids were raised to not live on excesses; they did not know any brand names and did not have any incessant desires beyond the intrinsic human desire for close contact to a protective figure. It was an engineered microcosm of which any social scientist would feel proud. But ray want doing it for exploitation of human emotions like those other folk. He really believed that raising his kids on the bare minimum of unnecessary knowledge would be beneficial for both the kids and his own self. The utilitarian vision would become a safeguard against any defiance from the kids side, no matter how old they grow. The kids were also not encouraged to ask questions. Ray believed that this would somehow lead to independent thought and in turn would harm the kids rather than keep them safe. This was the safest form of love that Raymond knew to express ever since Bobby died, and the divorce took place. This would keep the kids safe no matter what. Every situation possible was accounted for.
Ray had brought home a prostitute, who had built an affinity towards him over the years. At one point she was even willing to marry him, but Ray declined. The kids gathered up in the living room, were Ray was sitting with the prostitute.
Daddy! Is she the surprise? Sabrina asked with barely contained excitement.
Well, sort of. All of the kids, except for Sabrina will be going for ice cream with her!
But dad! Thats not fair, I wanna go as well!
Oh sweetheart, I have a much better surprise for you, right here in our home.
All the kids were giddy with excitement, and this even brought a noticeable moment of happiness on the prostitutes face as well. This brought joy to Ray as well.
Soon, the prostitute left along with all the kids except Sabrina, to an ice cream parlour. The first time they had been out of the house in a long, long time.
After they all left the house, Ray blindfolded Sabrina, and got her ready for the birthday surprise. Together, they stepped down to the basement. The place where the adopted kids were. The blindfold was removed.
Sabrina, these are your new brothers and sisters.
Sabrina looked at the teenage kids whom she had never known. She was more concerned with the birthday surprise.
Is this the surprise, dad?
No! The surprise is that I love you so much, Sabrina
I love you too dad, and thats all I need for my birthday!
I have something more to show you
Lets see it then!
Ray had told all his kids that when they hit 18 years of age, he would show his ultimate expression of love to them. He intimated them with detailed knowledge of intercourse, and they didnt even flinch. He had told them that this would be to stop any external interference with the children. No one would be able to harm them. They would be safe. They would be loved. Ray would be loved.
Here it is, its the room where we strengthen our bonds of love
Sabrina got the same giddy excitement which she had when guessing what the surprise was going to be.
They both got naked and Ray eased her into having sex. He started off slowly but then began to be very rough. This reminded Sabrina of times when she was younger. Memories of beatings, shocks, extreme heat, and several other unique sensations reminded her of childhood. Sabrina felt a bit warm after Ray was done with her.
Sabrina, I have planted my seed inside you
Dad, this is the best birthday ever!
Ray had planned to impregnate each of his kids once they reach legal age. This would make for a separate batch of kids, whom he could share his love with, whom he could protect. But he knew he couldnt possibly live that long to keep all of them safe, all the time. So he devised a plan for using the adopted kids as well. The kids rejected by society, whom a whole population couldnt protect and love, would serve as a symbol for love for ages to come. The males from each of the population would start impregnating the females after the death of Raymond. Each one already having the knowledge which Ray had given them would perpetuate it further, and so the blanket of safety among the children would keep them safe from any aberration. Love would protect them forever.
Some of the closer relatives would get worried sometimes though. When Ray and his wife were together, they lost their first two kids to miscarriage, and one was killed in a tragic car accident. After these life-altering losses, Raymond and Alexandra became very overprotective of the rest of their kids. They had more kids after the miscarriage, and these kids were overprotected to the point of smothering. Then the car accident occurred. That weighed in too heavily on Ray, who in essence cut out all contact of the remaining kids to the outside world. Alexandra became aware of what sort of undue pressure they had been putting on their kids. She blamed themselves as parents for the death in the car crash, but Ray utterly rejected this notion.
Dont you want your kids to be safe? asked Ray, with a voice laden with trembling emotion
You dont see it? We are the reason why bobby sneaked out that night. We were too strict on him and thats what killed him!
Alexandras tone was cold and calm in contrast to Rays.
Are you out of your mind, woman? If anything there was too little discipline! Had we observed him more closely, we might have saved him and he might be right here in our arms right now.
Youve gone totally insane! I cant be left dealing with your bullshit day after day! Im leaving and taking the kids with me
Alexandra did take the kids with her, but her victory was short-lived. The court battle for custody was tilted more on the side of Ray due to him being more presentable and sympathetic to the jury. Whenever Alexandra was legally allowed to meet her children, she started to notice their changing, indoctrinated state. Even though she had studied psychology in college, she was feeling utterly powerless in this situation, helpless in that the safeguards designed to prevent such situations were the ones who perpetuated them. But her utmost concern as a mother was the fact that she was not able to raise her children well. She was not able to help them even though she knew what horrific cuts to their psyche were being ingrained by Ray.
A year after the divorce, she could barely even make conversation with the kids. They would fail to recognize her outright. This became too much for her. Every bit of mounting emotion led to her committing suicide in her apartment room where she had been living. Funny how easily a rational mind was beaten to a pulp by emotional brute force.
Several years later, Ray had completely stopped keeping in contact with his relatives and friends. He felt that they were too intrusive and were leading to a compromised display of values for the kids. Some of the kids were now close to legal adulthood. This would have worried Ray previously, but now he had everything planned out for the kids. Such meticulous attention to detail, a crying shame that the kids were oblivious to it.
Kids, tomorrow, I shall be bringing home a surprise, so be ready!
The kids cheered in what was perceived to be unison by Ray. The loudest scream came from Rays daughter Sabrina, who was going to be 18 years of age next day.
Its weird seeing teenage kids behaving with the cognitive capacity of younger kids. It was bafflingly strange to the next door neighbor a couple of years back, when three of the kids were playing on the lawn. It was one of the very rare occasions when they were seen out in the open. Their pale skin and weak eyes, made their presence known even in the faint evening sun. The neighbor was doing his routine weekly trimming of the hedges. Thats when he noticed the peculiar way that the eldest of the three was throwing baby-like tantrums to have all three pieces of the ration chocolate that they had all together. The eldest must have been about twice the age of both the other children, but was still throwing tantrums with a fake cry which looked so sincere that dissonance ultimately kicked in. That was the last time the neighbor and any of the kids saw each other.
The next day ray left home very early to get work started on his surprise. He had shadowed several women during the early twilight hours. Women who would have otherwise gone for abortions. He had convinced a lot of them to let him adopt the kids once they gave birth, taking any financial responsibility upon himself. The prostitutes, of course, were more than happy to oblige. Ray was going to reveal the adopted children to his own. That was supposed to half of the surprise.
The adopted kids were put into the basement for the time being. As soon as his kids woke up, along with Sabrina, they started speculating as to what exactly the surprise could be. Ray had always been a master of reveal with every one of his previous surprises. These surprises had their impact mainly due to the fact that the kids were raised to not live on excesses; they did not know any brand names and did not have any incessant desires beyond the intrinsic human desire for close contact to a protective figure. It was an engineered microcosm of which any social scientist would feel proud. But ray want doing it for exploitation of human emotions like those other folk. He really believed that raising his kids on the bare minimum of unnecessary knowledge would be beneficial for both the kids and his own self. The utilitarian vision would become a safeguard against any defiance from the kids side, no matter how old they grow. The kids were also not encouraged to ask questions. Ray believed that this would somehow lead to independent thought and in turn would harm the kids rather than keep them safe. This was the safest form of love that Raymond knew to express ever since Bobby died, and the divorce took place. This would keep the kids safe no matter what. Every situation possible was accounted for.
Ray had brought home a prostitute, who had built an affinity towards him over the years. At one point she was even willing to marry him, but Ray declined. The kids gathered up in the living room, were Ray was sitting with the prostitute.
Daddy! Is she the surprise? Sabrina asked with barely contained excitement.
Well, sort of. All of the kids, except for Sabrina will be going for ice cream with her!
But dad! Thats not fair, I wanna go as well!
Oh sweetheart, I have a much better surprise for you, right here in our home.
All the kids were giddy with excitement, and this even brought a noticeable moment of happiness on the prostitutes face as well. This brought joy to Ray as well.
Soon, the prostitute left along with all the kids except Sabrina, to an ice cream parlour. The first time they had been out of the house in a long, long time.
After they all left the house, Ray blindfolded Sabrina, and got her ready for the birthday surprise. Together, they stepped down to the basement. The place where the adopted kids were. The blindfold was removed.
Sabrina, these are your new brothers and sisters.
Sabrina looked at the teenage kids whom she had never known. She was more concerned with the birthday surprise.
Is this the surprise, dad?
No! The surprise is that I love you so much, Sabrina
I love you too dad, and thats all I need for my birthday!
I have something more to show you
Lets see it then!
Ray had told all his kids that when they hit 18 years of age, he would show his ultimate expression of love to them. He intimated them with detailed knowledge of intercourse, and they didnt even flinch. He had told them that this would be to stop any external interference with the children. No one would be able to harm them. They would be safe. They would be loved. Ray would be loved.
Here it is, its the room where we strengthen our bonds of love
Sabrina got the same giddy excitement which she had when guessing what the surprise was going to be.
They both got naked and Ray eased her into having sex. He started off slowly but then began to be very rough. This reminded Sabrina of times when she was younger. Memories of beatings, shocks, extreme heat, and several other unique sensations reminded her of childhood. Sabrina felt a bit warm after Ray was done with her.
Sabrina, I have planted my seed inside you
Dad, this is the best birthday ever!
Ray had planned to impregnate each of his kids once they reach legal age. This would make for a separate batch of kids, whom he could share his love with, whom he could protect. But he knew he couldnt possibly live that long to keep all of them safe, all the time. So he devised a plan for using the adopted kids as well. The kids rejected by society, whom a whole population couldnt protect and love, would serve as a symbol for love for ages to come. The males from each of the population would start impregnating the females after the death of Raymond. Each one already having the knowledge which Ray had given them would perpetuate it further, and so the blanket of safety among the children would keep them safe from any aberration. Love would protect them forever.
The best way to tell if someone is human is to burn her at the stake. If she burns, then she's human. If she doesn't, then she's a monster who probably should be worshipped like a minor god or a vice president. And this is a reason why I don't like the generic third person as feminine; it seems unseemly. But equality means she should be burned.crowphoenix said:
And you know, I should get a animal avatar. But dunno if I should go team cat, pony, bird, dog, or even squirrel.
crowphoenix
Banned
Man, we've got some strict regulations on missing a challenge around here.DumbNameD said:
Oh, I know he's right and I appreciate what he's doing, but I need to take some time to destress.Tangent said:
Since I never actually finished anything for the last challenge, even though I said I would, I didn't want to commit myself to participating in this one till I knew I would be able to have something for you guys here. It's the first time I've written anything in a while, and it got pretty damn hard to finish, as the subject itself doesn't interest me all. But, I think it turned out alright in the end though.
"Cause: Known" by Miri (1623 words)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Bacon between his teeth. Sweat forming below his rolls of flab. The streetlights--flickering,
their light barely filling the seemingly empty streets this fatty walked with fear.
Filled with it, but always figuring that he would be fine; fighting his mental turmoil with the
thought that this night was no different than the nights previous; that he wasnt all that far
from the door of his apartment; that he was safe. Figuring that he would make it past the
four people sitting shoeless on the street-bench to his side with nothing but ill glances he
believed them to be giving from behind the shadow of their black hoods; figured their
choice of rubber rain coats and gloves weird on a night of no rain, but ultimately; figured
them inconsequential. As he always found it better to block the mind of thoughts that would
confuse its clarity, confuse its perfection. Block it with thoughts he deemed more pleasing.
Its how he had always done things, and he kept telling himself that this night would be no
different.
But he was wrong.
This night would be different. With the four figures rising to their feet only moments after
he had made his way past, the night had already begun differing. And his mind began to
race because of it: his thoughts incoherent. he couldnt help it, couldn't contain the
composure he always believed he held. How could he? He had never dealt with such the
situation before. How could anybody, really? He was alone. Against the four figures behind
him, barely visible beneath the available light, he was alone.
So he picked up his pace; putting it into the place of a hasty pep as not to draw attention,
just in case...
They reciprocated...
And he ran...
So they began running...
One of his shoes: untied, barely staying beside his fat foot, as the bacon he hadnt thought
of since last chewing stood clenched within his fist. The bareness of their feet, almost
audibly, tearing into the cement had him horrified. He could think of nothing but: run.
And running as fast as he could he was, but it was for naught; foot for foot, Fatty quickly
found that his pace was being matched, while-- breath by breath-- their stamina he found
he couldnt. He began thinking that this was one of those moments; the ones he would
always hear the outcome of on the news a morning later and laugh about, telling himself
that something like that could never happen to him; that he could easily handle a situation
so simple; that the victims of these events were always wrong in their ways.
This was his, and in running for his life, he realized himself right all along; realized, with his
stamina beginning to slip, that there were events that even he couldnt handle; that a life
lived fat had left him unprepared for such the thing; that he wanted to give up, but
couldnt. He felt that he had fight left; felt that he had it somewhere within himself to
continue, but in order to even begin thinking on that; he would have to find help.
Find help behind the doors that found himself banging on his way past, never stopping to
see if anyone was hearing his call, but hitting hard enough that someone could hear the
confusion and check. Continuing on with this for what felt like a lifetime; continued on with
this till he saw that no one was coming to help, saw that no other signs of life were ever
shown, or ever going to be. On this empty street, with nothing but a piece of bacon in his
hand, and pursuers encroaching upon his ever-slowing pace, he realized that he was
alone; that he had done enough trying; and that his body could manage nothing more.
So he gave up.
Falling to his hands and knees out of exhaustion, bacon flung only feet away, he felt he
had nothing to give, but still, felt his pursuers fast approaching. So he turned his head
towards them, screaming, What do you want from me! While ripping his wallet from his
back pocket and throwing it to the ground. Take it, and leave the me the fuck alone! Ive
got nothing else!
Nothing else, he said. Something else, he did.
Your life, fat boy. One of the figures muttered while stepping from the shadows to sight.
Every other light on the street but the one they were under: suddenly cut dead, as the
other three stayed behind in the darkness, waiting. While the confronting figure, with his
face still a silhouette behind the cover of his hood, continued on with an oddly sentimental
laugh, Ive watched you, you know? Watched you for I dont know how long now--he
gestures while slamming the bareness of his foot against the side of fattys face; his cheek
feeling nothing but bone, his other hitting the ground, hard-- Wallowing around in your
apartment. Back and forth from your door to that meaningless job of yours. From that
room, to the little convenience store, and back. Its sad, really. Youll be thirty-nine next
week, and this...This is the best that youve managed.
These words disturbed the fatty. A fact shown only by the best showing of shock that one
could muster up with his head between stuck between the grain of cement, and pressure
being put on by the foot of somebody he had never even met before. Someone so tall, so
strong, so seemingly fit, he was sure that he had never once dealt extensively with such
the person, so these words of his; they couldn't help but disturb him, greatly. But even so,
as much as they began disturbing him, Fatty slowly found them also having begun in
something more; something towards which he could muster not a word.
Nothing? the figure asks with his foot pressing only harder, fatty finding the strength of
which almost inhumane as the blood started trickling from the cement-side of his head. He
could admit nothing... As expected... the figure snarls. Youre enjoying this... enjoying
this last bit of excitement in your otherwise uneventful life. And he was right.
Given plenty of lifes time, Fatty just gave it away. Laziness had become far too much of a
profession for him to even think on becoming anything more. So, he became nothing,
known by no one; he would tell himself happily, but enough of this would only force him to
realize that he was lying, and in reality; hoping for that somebody to come along and
make his days more enjoyable. Hoping for someone else, as there was no way in hell he
could do it himself.
There would have never been a way, and he was certain of that, but none of this, none of
it mattered anymore. The feeling from his face had begun to fade. And his wish, it was
finally being granted. His time of waiting was up. Somebodys come for me, he smiled
with what little feeling he had left. Somebody had come, and more interesting it was, even
if that something done was death...
The figure heard this, he saw it, and all of it, it angered him, but collected in tone he
remained; his anguish shown only by the initial grit in his voice and grip of his fists as he
continued, Youre right.... I have. While increasing the pressure put down with his foot. The
blood trailing as quickly from every pore on Fattys face as it began to trail from his own,
spilling from behind the shadow of the his hood, slowly making its way out, and down, as the
figure, himself likened the sight to raindrops eventually finding shelter among family along the
side of Fattys face--Where they belonged, he thought-- A feeling he found nauseating.
A feeling Fatty, now laughing uncontrollably, found, Good... He had snapped, and as much as
it was...
A response expected, It was A response unwanted, the figure responded, removing his foot
from the side of Fattys face, now forced to take in the the almost unbearably pathetic sights in
front of him. He didnt want to do this, his own vision becoming increasingly clouded, bottom lip
bitten, he really didnt. But, somewhere inside himself, he knew that his hopes were useless,
that it was much too late, and that it had to happen. The wheel had already begun turning, and
he couldnt stand it.
Couldnt bare to catch the look in Fattys eyes as his heel finally came crashing through his
head; couldnt bare the seeing the bloodied fragments of Fattys head strewn along the grown
like sediment to the seafloor; couldnt bare any of it, and with life having left him the instant
Fatty lost his, didnt need to, he couldnt. His job was over.
Their jobs only beginning. The other figures, once waiting in the darkness and watching for their
moment with anticipation, now crawling from within their nest in the shadows. They could barely
contain the excitement. It wasnt everyday that somebody just offered themselves over to
them, and they would revel in the opportunity. Knives prepped. Teeth sharpened. Prey was
never as interesting when they had to work for it. And as interesting as this prey had come to
be, it would be worked over till morning.
The morning that Fatty figured he would make the news, but didnt. His chance in the limelight
didnt actually come till the morning of almost a month later, after his body was found strewn
besides the frame of his bed by an unsuspecting apartment manager. The blood having drained
from his head. The cause of death was deemed: unknown.
---------------------------
Easily the most depressing piece of anything that I've ever written. I had to watch myself as I started wishing for it to just end about 3/4s of the way in. Not exactly a good thing to be thinking on when writing it. lol.
"Cause: Known" by Miri (1623 words)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Bacon between his teeth. Sweat forming below his rolls of flab. The streetlights--flickering,
their light barely filling the seemingly empty streets this fatty walked with fear.
Filled with it, but always figuring that he would be fine; fighting his mental turmoil with the
thought that this night was no different than the nights previous; that he wasnt all that far
from the door of his apartment; that he was safe. Figuring that he would make it past the
four people sitting shoeless on the street-bench to his side with nothing but ill glances he
believed them to be giving from behind the shadow of their black hoods; figured their
choice of rubber rain coats and gloves weird on a night of no rain, but ultimately; figured
them inconsequential. As he always found it better to block the mind of thoughts that would
confuse its clarity, confuse its perfection. Block it with thoughts he deemed more pleasing.
Its how he had always done things, and he kept telling himself that this night would be no
different.
But he was wrong.
This night would be different. With the four figures rising to their feet only moments after
he had made his way past, the night had already begun differing. And his mind began to
race because of it: his thoughts incoherent. he couldnt help it, couldn't contain the
composure he always believed he held. How could he? He had never dealt with such the
situation before. How could anybody, really? He was alone. Against the four figures behind
him, barely visible beneath the available light, he was alone.
So he picked up his pace; putting it into the place of a hasty pep as not to draw attention,
just in case...
They reciprocated...
And he ran...
So they began running...
One of his shoes: untied, barely staying beside his fat foot, as the bacon he hadnt thought
of since last chewing stood clenched within his fist. The bareness of their feet, almost
audibly, tearing into the cement had him horrified. He could think of nothing but: run.
And running as fast as he could he was, but it was for naught; foot for foot, Fatty quickly
found that his pace was being matched, while-- breath by breath-- their stamina he found
he couldnt. He began thinking that this was one of those moments; the ones he would
always hear the outcome of on the news a morning later and laugh about, telling himself
that something like that could never happen to him; that he could easily handle a situation
so simple; that the victims of these events were always wrong in their ways.
This was his, and in running for his life, he realized himself right all along; realized, with his
stamina beginning to slip, that there were events that even he couldnt handle; that a life
lived fat had left him unprepared for such the thing; that he wanted to give up, but
couldnt. He felt that he had fight left; felt that he had it somewhere within himself to
continue, but in order to even begin thinking on that; he would have to find help.
Find help behind the doors that found himself banging on his way past, never stopping to
see if anyone was hearing his call, but hitting hard enough that someone could hear the
confusion and check. Continuing on with this for what felt like a lifetime; continued on with
this till he saw that no one was coming to help, saw that no other signs of life were ever
shown, or ever going to be. On this empty street, with nothing but a piece of bacon in his
hand, and pursuers encroaching upon his ever-slowing pace, he realized that he was
alone; that he had done enough trying; and that his body could manage nothing more.
So he gave up.
Falling to his hands and knees out of exhaustion, bacon flung only feet away, he felt he
had nothing to give, but still, felt his pursuers fast approaching. So he turned his head
towards them, screaming, What do you want from me! While ripping his wallet from his
back pocket and throwing it to the ground. Take it, and leave the me the fuck alone! Ive
got nothing else!
Nothing else, he said. Something else, he did.
Your life, fat boy. One of the figures muttered while stepping from the shadows to sight.
Every other light on the street but the one they were under: suddenly cut dead, as the
other three stayed behind in the darkness, waiting. While the confronting figure, with his
face still a silhouette behind the cover of his hood, continued on with an oddly sentimental
laugh, Ive watched you, you know? Watched you for I dont know how long now--he
gestures while slamming the bareness of his foot against the side of fattys face; his cheek
feeling nothing but bone, his other hitting the ground, hard-- Wallowing around in your
apartment. Back and forth from your door to that meaningless job of yours. From that
room, to the little convenience store, and back. Its sad, really. Youll be thirty-nine next
week, and this...This is the best that youve managed.
These words disturbed the fatty. A fact shown only by the best showing of shock that one
could muster up with his head between stuck between the grain of cement, and pressure
being put on by the foot of somebody he had never even met before. Someone so tall, so
strong, so seemingly fit, he was sure that he had never once dealt extensively with such
the person, so these words of his; they couldn't help but disturb him, greatly. But even so,
as much as they began disturbing him, Fatty slowly found them also having begun in
something more; something towards which he could muster not a word.
Nothing? the figure asks with his foot pressing only harder, fatty finding the strength of
which almost inhumane as the blood started trickling from the cement-side of his head. He
could admit nothing... As expected... the figure snarls. Youre enjoying this... enjoying
this last bit of excitement in your otherwise uneventful life. And he was right.
Given plenty of lifes time, Fatty just gave it away. Laziness had become far too much of a
profession for him to even think on becoming anything more. So, he became nothing,
known by no one; he would tell himself happily, but enough of this would only force him to
realize that he was lying, and in reality; hoping for that somebody to come along and
make his days more enjoyable. Hoping for someone else, as there was no way in hell he
could do it himself.
There would have never been a way, and he was certain of that, but none of this, none of
it mattered anymore. The feeling from his face had begun to fade. And his wish, it was
finally being granted. His time of waiting was up. Somebodys come for me, he smiled
with what little feeling he had left. Somebody had come, and more interesting it was, even
if that something done was death...
The figure heard this, he saw it, and all of it, it angered him, but collected in tone he
remained; his anguish shown only by the initial grit in his voice and grip of his fists as he
continued, Youre right.... I have. While increasing the pressure put down with his foot. The
blood trailing as quickly from every pore on Fattys face as it began to trail from his own,
spilling from behind the shadow of the his hood, slowly making its way out, and down, as the
figure, himself likened the sight to raindrops eventually finding shelter among family along the
side of Fattys face--Where they belonged, he thought-- A feeling he found nauseating.
A feeling Fatty, now laughing uncontrollably, found, Good... He had snapped, and as much as
it was...
A response expected, It was A response unwanted, the figure responded, removing his foot
from the side of Fattys face, now forced to take in the the almost unbearably pathetic sights in
front of him. He didnt want to do this, his own vision becoming increasingly clouded, bottom lip
bitten, he really didnt. But, somewhere inside himself, he knew that his hopes were useless,
that it was much too late, and that it had to happen. The wheel had already begun turning, and
he couldnt stand it.
Couldnt bare to catch the look in Fattys eyes as his heel finally came crashing through his
head; couldnt bare the seeing the bloodied fragments of Fattys head strewn along the grown
like sediment to the seafloor; couldnt bare any of it, and with life having left him the instant
Fatty lost his, didnt need to, he couldnt. His job was over.
Their jobs only beginning. The other figures, once waiting in the darkness and watching for their
moment with anticipation, now crawling from within their nest in the shadows. They could barely
contain the excitement. It wasnt everyday that somebody just offered themselves over to
them, and they would revel in the opportunity. Knives prepped. Teeth sharpened. Prey was
never as interesting when they had to work for it. And as interesting as this prey had come to
be, it would be worked over till morning.
The morning that Fatty figured he would make the news, but didnt. His chance in the limelight
didnt actually come till the morning of almost a month later, after his body was found strewn
besides the frame of his bed by an unsuspecting apartment manager. The blood having drained
from his head. The cause of death was deemed: unknown.
---------------------------
Easily the most depressing piece of anything that I've ever written. I had to watch myself as I started wishing for it to just end about 3/4s of the way in. Not exactly a good thing to be thinking on when writing it. lol.
crowphoenix said:
one of my employers said to me once:
I know talent when I see it. You just have to work on it for another twenty years perhaps.
Tangent said:
A friend of mine once got disheartened cause all the girls in his class were laughing at him; he wouldn't read when the teacher asked him to and so was sent outside. Thing was, he couldn't read; he was illiterate; but he was too ashamed to tell anyone. so he suffered. For some reason or another, he happened to tell me. My advice to him was, and I quote: Why don't you just learn to read dude?
I wouldn't listen to my advice.
tl:dr I wouldn't listen to my advice. I can be a very dimwitted individual.
ThoseDeafMutes
Member
My head pounded, my breathing was shallow and my left arm was numb from lying on it. I was surrounded by black, and not single sound could be heard. I shifted my weight off it, but in doing so ran into the wall. I stretched out as far as I could in all directions. I was inside a box. I pushed up on the top surface to no avail. My heart was beating faster than I thought possible. I redoubled my efforts, pushing up with as much force as I could muster. It didnt even flex slightly.
My breaths were growing faster and faster, but it wasnt enough. Not just a box, a coffin. I have to calm myself. I felt around the top. It was some kind of wood. Maybe, if theres someone I shouted. I shouted as loud as I could. I shouted until my throat was sandpaper and my lungs burned. When I collapsed, even the act of not moving was too much. I sucked at the rapidly diminishing air supply. I just need a A minute passed, and then another. And another.
I jerked up, a final wakeup call from my starving brain. The fire was spreading from my lungs to the rest of my body. I searched around for a latch, a button, anything. The sound of gasping filled the thinning air. I clawed at the top. I could scarcely even feel the splinters. One of the nails on my right hand started peeling back, but I kept going until my arms gave way. No, I I just need to
Darkness.
My breaths were growing faster and faster, but it wasnt enough. Not just a box, a coffin. I have to calm myself. I felt around the top. It was some kind of wood. Maybe, if theres someone I shouted. I shouted as loud as I could. I shouted until my throat was sandpaper and my lungs burned. When I collapsed, even the act of not moving was too much. I sucked at the rapidly diminishing air supply. I just need a A minute passed, and then another. And another.
I jerked up, a final wakeup call from my starving brain. The fire was spreading from my lungs to the rest of my body. I searched around for a latch, a button, anything. The sound of gasping filled the thinning air. I clawed at the top. I could scarcely even feel the splinters. One of the nails on my right hand started peeling back, but I kept going until my arms gave way. No, I I just need to
Darkness.
ThoseDeafMutes
Member
Well that was a random writing process. Slowly adding to a narrative for a whole week each day, then completely throwing everything except the final scene out and just submitting that by itself instead because it worked better. There won't be any quick draw reviews from me this time since I have only just finished that one myself.
Stranger Danger (1100)
Subject: guess whaaaaat
To: kellycutie99@gmail.com
From: mel.stevens@ucsb.edu
Date: February 23, 2005
Hi Kel!
So I've got a midterm tomorrow and I'm putting off studying! You know what that means. Time to email all my old (old old old!) high school bffs who are named Kelly!
Guess what!
Well, you'll never guess so I'll just tell you. I met a boy! He's cute and sweet and we talked for hours! We talked about everything and we could've kept on talking forever. We just connected! You know? I never thought this would happen to me. It was like being a romcom heroine! (I'm played by Natalie Portman! Pretty and sooooo smaaart!)
Ok, so now the sort-of bad news. I know you're going to be mad, so I saved it for last.
He's... an internet boy! I met him on an online chatroom. I know you always said meeting people online is bad news, but this was different. We have so much in common, and he's totally not weird! (P.S. did I mention he's cuuuuuute?)
XOXO hugs and kisses,
Melody
Subject: dorms are overrated
To: kellycutie99@gmail.com
From: mel.stevens@ucsb.edu
Date: February 28, 2005
Aw, Kel!
It doesn't work like that. I don't meet anyone in the dorms. Let alone cute boys! I know it's supposed to be all friendly and people hang out in the hall and talk and their RA buys them booze. But real life is way lame. No one hangs out, and the doors are all closed. And my RA's a dick!
So yes, I'm talking to Internet Boy every day <3 <3 <3 (P.S. his name's Joseph!). Internet Boy is sweet and makes me feel all warm and glowy inside when we've been talking. And he likes my new haircut. Ahem, ahem!
We talked on the phone for the first time today! It was exciting, but scary! Not like zombie movie scary but boy scary. I felt all fluttery and twitchy. And I couldn't do aaaaanything while I waited for him to call! I sat at my desk and tried to work, but I just couldn't! My brain would just fuzz up!
And then he finally called, and I didn't even know if I wanted to pick up the phone! I just held it and looked at it for three rings.
I'm glad I did. We're meeting up! (P.S. don't worry! I prooooomise he's not creepy or crazy!)
I'll give you all the juicy details!
XOXO hugs and kisses,
Melody
Subject: date night!
To: kellycutie99@gmail.com
From: mel.stevens@ucsb.edu
Date: March 10, 2005
See, Kel! Totally still alive!
Eeeeeee it was the best! We met at this little cafe. Just off campus. I was a little nervous. (P.S. your email about internet murderers didn't help!) But I shook it off and went in.
Joseph was sitting there with a white rose and a copy of Pride and Prejudice! Just like Tom Hanks in that email movie! (we are such neeeeeerds!)
We ordered coffee and pastries. But I swear my coffee got cold in the cup because we didn't stop talking! It just felt like there was so much talking to do and not enough time!
Joseph is soooooo sweet. He works on computers and he's living with his mom to help take care of her. He's 23. (Seeeee! He's not that old!) And we're both kind of doofuses! But we didn't care! I just felt like I could tell him anything. Kind of like with my bff Kel! (P.S. I told him about that time skinnydipping at Mark Jackson's house! He laughed so hard!)
He didn't try to kiss me or anything. Boo! But when we got up to leave, he reached over. And our fingertips touched, just barely.
And I swear a giant spark of electricity jumped between them!
Seeing him again tomorrow! <3
XOXO
Melody
Subject: top secret
To: kellycutie99@gmail.com
From: mel.stevens@ucsb.edu
Date: July 8, 2005
Hi Kel!
Listen! Can you keep a secret? Ha! Of course you can.
Me and Joseph are going to Vegas this weekend! And can you guess what we're going to do when we get there? Of course you can! <3
You can't let my parents find out, they would fliiiiiiip out!
Kel, I know you think I'm crazy. But this is for real. This isn't Internet Boy any more! Joseph is The One!
We've got it all planned out. I'm dropping out. (P.S. college wasn't that great anyway!) We're moving to Mesa Arizona. And Joseph will get a computer job, he loves computers! I'm working as a waitress or something so we can save some money. And buy a house! We're going to have six kids, three boys and three girls!
Ok, maybe not quiiiiite that many. But we'll try!
Kel, this is it. This is what my life is going to be! You know those guys who tell you to make goals and plans? Like what you're doing in 5 or 10 years? And then you picture it in your mind, and it comes true?
I'm picturing really hard!
XOXO
Melody
Subject: please help me
To: kellycutie99@gmail.com
From: mel.stevens@ucsb.edu
Date: January 27, 2006
Kel! Please don't delete this email.
I need your help. You were right! I don't know how else to say it. You were right. And now I'm trapped. And I don't know what to do!
It all went wrong after Vegas.
Joseph had trouble finding work. He put on a little weight, got sort of depressed. Our amazing conversations melted away. And we stopped going out.
It was miserable. Then one day he told me he was done looking. He'd found something!
He started disappearing at night, down in our new basement. I'd wake up at 2 AM and he still wouldn't be in bed. I couldn't figure out what he was doing!
I started snooping a little. I looked through his wallet. (receipts from the liquor store!) I checked his phone. (calls to and from numbers I don't know!)
Finally I snuck back during the day when I was supposed to be waitressing so I could look around while Joseph was at work. I walked inside and the basement door was open! There were sounds coming from there. Angry shouting. Strange music. Screams!
I won't lie. I was scared! But I shook it off and went down to the basement. And what did I find?
Cases of Mountain Dew. Bags of Cheetos. And my clearly unemployed Internet Boy husband killing imaginary dragons in a computer game with his internet friends!
I sat down and cried.
Kel! It's Friday night and my husband's covered in Cheeto dust.
Please help me!
Melody
Subject: guess whaaaaat
To: kellycutie99@gmail.com
From: mel.stevens@ucsb.edu
Date: February 23, 2005
Hi Kel!
So I've got a midterm tomorrow and I'm putting off studying! You know what that means. Time to email all my old (old old old!) high school bffs who are named Kelly!
Guess what!
Well, you'll never guess so I'll just tell you. I met a boy! He's cute and sweet and we talked for hours! We talked about everything and we could've kept on talking forever. We just connected! You know? I never thought this would happen to me. It was like being a romcom heroine! (I'm played by Natalie Portman! Pretty and sooooo smaaart!)
Ok, so now the sort-of bad news. I know you're going to be mad, so I saved it for last.
He's... an internet boy! I met him on an online chatroom. I know you always said meeting people online is bad news, but this was different. We have so much in common, and he's totally not weird! (P.S. did I mention he's cuuuuuute?)
XOXO hugs and kisses,
Melody
Subject: dorms are overrated
To: kellycutie99@gmail.com
From: mel.stevens@ucsb.edu
Date: February 28, 2005
Aw, Kel!
It doesn't work like that. I don't meet anyone in the dorms. Let alone cute boys! I know it's supposed to be all friendly and people hang out in the hall and talk and their RA buys them booze. But real life is way lame. No one hangs out, and the doors are all closed. And my RA's a dick!
So yes, I'm talking to Internet Boy every day <3 <3 <3 (P.S. his name's Joseph!). Internet Boy is sweet and makes me feel all warm and glowy inside when we've been talking. And he likes my new haircut. Ahem, ahem!
We talked on the phone for the first time today! It was exciting, but scary! Not like zombie movie scary but boy scary. I felt all fluttery and twitchy. And I couldn't do aaaaanything while I waited for him to call! I sat at my desk and tried to work, but I just couldn't! My brain would just fuzz up!
And then he finally called, and I didn't even know if I wanted to pick up the phone! I just held it and looked at it for three rings.
I'm glad I did. We're meeting up! (P.S. don't worry! I prooooomise he's not creepy or crazy!)
I'll give you all the juicy details!
XOXO hugs and kisses,
Melody
Subject: date night!
To: kellycutie99@gmail.com
From: mel.stevens@ucsb.edu
Date: March 10, 2005
See, Kel! Totally still alive!
Eeeeeee it was the best! We met at this little cafe. Just off campus. I was a little nervous. (P.S. your email about internet murderers didn't help!) But I shook it off and went in.
Joseph was sitting there with a white rose and a copy of Pride and Prejudice! Just like Tom Hanks in that email movie! (we are such neeeeeerds!)
We ordered coffee and pastries. But I swear my coffee got cold in the cup because we didn't stop talking! It just felt like there was so much talking to do and not enough time!
Joseph is soooooo sweet. He works on computers and he's living with his mom to help take care of her. He's 23. (Seeeee! He's not that old!) And we're both kind of doofuses! But we didn't care! I just felt like I could tell him anything. Kind of like with my bff Kel! (P.S. I told him about that time skinnydipping at Mark Jackson's house! He laughed so hard!)
He didn't try to kiss me or anything. Boo! But when we got up to leave, he reached over. And our fingertips touched, just barely.
And I swear a giant spark of electricity jumped between them!
Seeing him again tomorrow! <3
XOXO
Melody
Subject: top secret
To: kellycutie99@gmail.com
From: mel.stevens@ucsb.edu
Date: July 8, 2005
Hi Kel!
Listen! Can you keep a secret? Ha! Of course you can.
Me and Joseph are going to Vegas this weekend! And can you guess what we're going to do when we get there? Of course you can! <3
You can't let my parents find out, they would fliiiiiiip out!
Kel, I know you think I'm crazy. But this is for real. This isn't Internet Boy any more! Joseph is The One!
We've got it all planned out. I'm dropping out. (P.S. college wasn't that great anyway!) We're moving to Mesa Arizona. And Joseph will get a computer job, he loves computers! I'm working as a waitress or something so we can save some money. And buy a house! We're going to have six kids, three boys and three girls!
Ok, maybe not quiiiiite that many. But we'll try!
Kel, this is it. This is what my life is going to be! You know those guys who tell you to make goals and plans? Like what you're doing in 5 or 10 years? And then you picture it in your mind, and it comes true?
I'm picturing really hard!
XOXO
Melody
Subject: please help me
To: kellycutie99@gmail.com
From: mel.stevens@ucsb.edu
Date: January 27, 2006
Kel! Please don't delete this email.
I need your help. You were right! I don't know how else to say it. You were right. And now I'm trapped. And I don't know what to do!
It all went wrong after Vegas.
Joseph had trouble finding work. He put on a little weight, got sort of depressed. Our amazing conversations melted away. And we stopped going out.
It was miserable. Then one day he told me he was done looking. He'd found something!
He started disappearing at night, down in our new basement. I'd wake up at 2 AM and he still wouldn't be in bed. I couldn't figure out what he was doing!
I started snooping a little. I looked through his wallet. (receipts from the liquor store!) I checked his phone. (calls to and from numbers I don't know!)
Finally I snuck back during the day when I was supposed to be waitressing so I could look around while Joseph was at work. I walked inside and the basement door was open! There were sounds coming from there. Angry shouting. Strange music. Screams!
I won't lie. I was scared! But I shook it off and went down to the basement. And what did I find?
Cases of Mountain Dew. Bags of Cheetos. And my clearly unemployed Internet Boy husband killing imaginary dragons in a computer game with his internet friends!
I sat down and cried.
Kel! It's Friday night and my husband's covered in Cheeto dust.
Please help me!
Melody
I... I... I think I'm losing it. I'm not really sure how to put it any other way. I mean, it's been a pretty gradual process, but I just didn't realize how far gone I was until today. I'm not really sure how to explain it, so I guess I'll just list what few life experiences I've had and just how I came to where I am today.
I was probably normal enough as a child. Well, I was probably just a regular baby. That didn't last for very long though. When I was about two years old, I was playing with a heavy, drop-down style cabinet door when I finally managed to unlatch it, allowing it to slam down on my head. I've had severe migraines ever since that day. I started out with the typical, area-effect migraines, but they eventually started occurring throughout my entire head. The pain that accompanies them is absolutely unbearable, and any heat I feel, light I see, or sound I hear increases that pain tenfold. Not only that, each one also comes with the added benefit of vomiting uncontrollably. Even when I've completely emptied the contents of my stomach, I'll keep heaving up what little stomach acid is produced.
Years and years of that constant regurgitation eventually wore down my teeth (making them very ramp-like and stunted) and my lower esophageal sphincter (the flap between my stomach and esophagus), which resulted in me throwing up constantly even when I wasn't inflicted with a migraine. The thing is, my migraines were also getting worse and worse as time went until they finally reached a peak during my freshman year of high school. I had a migraine that didn't completely go away for months. At best, it was a dull throb that constantly worked its way throughout my head. At worst, it was completely paralytic, forcing me to lay down in a freezing cold, completely dark/silent room. I was barely able to move at all during those bad bits.
As you can imagine, I wasn't really able to school on a normal basis, but I was enrolled throughout the mandatory time nevertheless. I probably should have been home schooled considering I was absent nearly two days a week. Still, I managed to not only stay in school, but get straight As as well. I honestly have no idea how I did it. I literally missed two entire years of high school and yet I somehow managed to graduate on track (which was still a year early) and with the second highest possible diploma (I just couldn't take some of the required classes for the top version due to my absences). I was surprised to find myself surrounded by a group of people who actually enjoyed my company. I was never at school, yet I had quite a few good friends. I even went out with a lot of different girls, but they never lead anywhere really. You see, I'm incredibly distant from everyone I know. People may like being around me, but I hate being around them. I just feel like an intruder and become even more reclusive. I may be at a party, but hang out in an empty bedroom or something and just sit there until everyone else leaves. I don't get it. I've completely removed myself from everyone I knew these last few years though. I just realized I was only bringing them down and wasting their time by making them pay attention to me even though I didn't want it.
I think the worsening of the migraines may have been caused by the many head injuries I have sustained throughout my life. I've had been slammed on my head many times as well as having it smashed through a variety of different pieces of furniture. (Older brother and cousin) The weird thing is, every time this would happen, I would suddenly start learning and understanding things at an extremely rapid pace. I could pick up anything at all and be relatively good at it. At the same time, I began losing my memory. I can't remember shit. I used to be able to play the piano quite well (as in 6 months ago), but if I were to sit down at one today, I wouldn't be able to play more than a few notes. I used to be rather eloquent as well, however, I can't seem to construct a sentence in more than a dozen different ways now. My vocabulary is also extremely limited these days. I'm dropping half of what I intended to say or write. My vision is rapidly deteriorating as well. I can't hear hardly anything either, but it's not because of a physical problem. I'm just not getting the message associated with the sounds. I feel so disconnected from absolutely everything.
Additionally, I'm starting to feel like a separate entity in my own mind. I'm able to view all my "thoughts" from an outside perspective and it's really creeping me out. I also find myself "locked out" of certain things and I have no idea as to what these things even are. Recently, I've started blacking out and losing track of where I am entirely. I have no idea what is going on anymore.
What should I do, CHAF?
_________________________________________________________________________________
Get off CHAF and go get some professional help.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Kill yourself?
_________________________________________________________________________________
Sounds like a pretty shitty life.
EDIT: ^ The fuck?
_________________________________________________________________________________
What in the hell is this?
_________________________________________________________________________________
Med-CHAF checking in.
You need to get yourself to a psychiatrist or something bro.
_________________________________________________________________________________
randomposter
Banned
Took long enough.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Good.
_________________________________________________________________________________
That was quick.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Ok
_________________________________________________________________________________
Quickest ban ever.
_________________________________________________________________________________
What a fuckhead.
_________________________________________________________________________________
:lol :lol :lol
_________________________________________________________________________________
Shishoptl took care of that shit with lightning speed.
_________________________________________________________________________________
DON'T!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
_________________________________________________________________________________
......
.....
....
.....
....
...
....
.....
....
....
....
Mega Bump
________________________________________________________________________________
So, what the fuck ever happened with this guy?
________________________________________________________________________________
His last activity was that 'OK' post.
________________________________________________________________________________
Did he actually kill himself?
________________________________________________________________________________
Lol. Was he permabanned?
I was probably normal enough as a child. Well, I was probably just a regular baby. That didn't last for very long though. When I was about two years old, I was playing with a heavy, drop-down style cabinet door when I finally managed to unlatch it, allowing it to slam down on my head. I've had severe migraines ever since that day. I started out with the typical, area-effect migraines, but they eventually started occurring throughout my entire head. The pain that accompanies them is absolutely unbearable, and any heat I feel, light I see, or sound I hear increases that pain tenfold. Not only that, each one also comes with the added benefit of vomiting uncontrollably. Even when I've completely emptied the contents of my stomach, I'll keep heaving up what little stomach acid is produced.
Years and years of that constant regurgitation eventually wore down my teeth (making them very ramp-like and stunted) and my lower esophageal sphincter (the flap between my stomach and esophagus), which resulted in me throwing up constantly even when I wasn't inflicted with a migraine. The thing is, my migraines were also getting worse and worse as time went until they finally reached a peak during my freshman year of high school. I had a migraine that didn't completely go away for months. At best, it was a dull throb that constantly worked its way throughout my head. At worst, it was completely paralytic, forcing me to lay down in a freezing cold, completely dark/silent room. I was barely able to move at all during those bad bits.
As you can imagine, I wasn't really able to school on a normal basis, but I was enrolled throughout the mandatory time nevertheless. I probably should have been home schooled considering I was absent nearly two days a week. Still, I managed to not only stay in school, but get straight As as well. I honestly have no idea how I did it. I literally missed two entire years of high school and yet I somehow managed to graduate on track (which was still a year early) and with the second highest possible diploma (I just couldn't take some of the required classes for the top version due to my absences). I was surprised to find myself surrounded by a group of people who actually enjoyed my company. I was never at school, yet I had quite a few good friends. I even went out with a lot of different girls, but they never lead anywhere really. You see, I'm incredibly distant from everyone I know. People may like being around me, but I hate being around them. I just feel like an intruder and become even more reclusive. I may be at a party, but hang out in an empty bedroom or something and just sit there until everyone else leaves. I don't get it. I've completely removed myself from everyone I knew these last few years though. I just realized I was only bringing them down and wasting their time by making them pay attention to me even though I didn't want it.
I think the worsening of the migraines may have been caused by the many head injuries I have sustained throughout my life. I've had been slammed on my head many times as well as having it smashed through a variety of different pieces of furniture. (Older brother and cousin) The weird thing is, every time this would happen, I would suddenly start learning and understanding things at an extremely rapid pace. I could pick up anything at all and be relatively good at it. At the same time, I began losing my memory. I can't remember shit. I used to be able to play the piano quite well (as in 6 months ago), but if I were to sit down at one today, I wouldn't be able to play more than a few notes. I used to be rather eloquent as well, however, I can't seem to construct a sentence in more than a dozen different ways now. My vocabulary is also extremely limited these days. I'm dropping half of what I intended to say or write. My vision is rapidly deteriorating as well. I can't hear hardly anything either, but it's not because of a physical problem. I'm just not getting the message associated with the sounds. I feel so disconnected from absolutely everything.
Additionally, I'm starting to feel like a separate entity in my own mind. I'm able to view all my "thoughts" from an outside perspective and it's really creeping me out. I also find myself "locked out" of certain things and I have no idea as to what these things even are. Recently, I've started blacking out and losing track of where I am entirely. I have no idea what is going on anymore.
What should I do, CHAF?
_________________________________________________________________________________
Get off CHAF and go get some professional help.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Kill yourself?
_________________________________________________________________________________
Sounds like a pretty shitty life.
EDIT: ^ The fuck?
_________________________________________________________________________________
randomposter said:
What in the hell is this?
_________________________________________________________________________________
Med-CHAF checking in.
You need to get yourself to a psychiatrist or something bro.
_________________________________________________________________________________
randomposter
Banned
Took long enough.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Good.
_________________________________________________________________________________
That was quick.
_________________________________________________________________________________
randomposter said:
Ok
_________________________________________________________________________________
Quickest ban ever.
_________________________________________________________________________________
What a fuckhead.
_________________________________________________________________________________
:lol :lol :lol
_________________________________________________________________________________
Shishoptl took care of that shit with lightning speed.
_________________________________________________________________________________
DON'T!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
_________________________________________________________________________________
......
.....
....
.....
....
...
....
.....
....
....
....
Mega Bump
________________________________________________________________________________
So, what the fuck ever happened with this guy?
________________________________________________________________________________
His last activity was that 'OK' post.
________________________________________________________________________________
Did he actually kill himself?
________________________________________________________________________________
Lol. Was he permabanned?
Quaint (1787)
Postcard #1
Dear Don,
Its so cute here! I hope you like this postcard check out the photo of the sunrise above these quaint little houses. We should totally move here! But the odd thing is that I havent seen any locals in the streets. I mean, seriously! Doesnt anyone live in these perfect little neighborhoods? Its actually a little weird. The Fisheries conference is going well. Someone spoke on trout gill pH changes due to fireworks shows over the water. Take care of Musty and make sure he doesnt kick kitty litter everywhere.
Love,
Jenna.
Postcard #2
Donny,
I miss you! I hope the testing team at work isnt getting on your nerves. Just take deep breaths if you have to start with fresh code. Remember to get more milk if you run out rather than just using frozen lemonade in your cereal! Of course, I dont mean to belittle you. Anyway, today I went to this super cute chocolate shop! Im bringing you something! Its a surprise! Ok I cant hold back: its a chocolate SHIP! Arent you gonna love it? It smelled so good in the shop and it even has delicate sails and ropes. There was also a cute print shop from local photographers but I cant decide on one yet. Every single photo of the island is almost too perfect. Yknow what I mean? Its almost eerie. But the cuteness overrides the eeriness.  I mean, doesnt anyone ever forget to mow their lawns? Tell Musty I miss him and I hope hes keeping my side of the bed warm.
Love,
Jenna.
Postcard #3
Hi Don,
The conference is going really well and Im getting the hang of the ferry rides off of the mainland. I wish I could just stay here rather than commuting in from Everett (just north of Seattle) each day though. At lunch, I had a really cute cupcake after enjoying a panini over live jazz music. This place is unreal! Lets come here for our anniversary! Though I havent found a single bed-n-breakfast. Ill look out for one.
Kisses,
Jenna
********
Little did Jenna know that nobody did live on the island. The shopkeepers hoped to put up a front, so that the island looked cozier and brought in more tourists. And it always worked.
********
Postcard #4
Hi Don,
Today, the conference ended early. Which was nice. I was really dozing off in there. I was feeling groggy all day. Maybe its the weather. Its been really overcast and I havent gotten an ounce of sunlight. Ill need to photosynthesize in the sun and get some Vitamin D once Im back in Austin. Anyway, Im presenting tomorrow though. Im really looking forward to it. I cant believe I earned a presentation for my research, not just a poster session. This is such a great opportunity, but I miss you and Musty. I went back to the print shop today but the man in the store wasnt as friendly as when I popped in yesterday. And, I got the same aloof attitude when visiting this really cute jewelry shop. Oh well, maybe everyone is impacted by the heavy clouds. My clothes even got wet with mist!
Love,
Jenna
P.S. I got some cute boxers for you with puffins on them. Theyre adorable! I cant wait to see you in them. I think we should donate to the WWF to protect puffins. Theyre so cute. They even sound cute. Puffins. Seriously!
********
The shopkeepers were aloof and nervous for good reason. The looming clouds of this sort of density were of grave concern. It hadnt been since 1942 that anyone in retail had to stay on the island. Maybe what happened in 1942 was a legend, but it still made the Puffin Islanders uneasy. Fear rippled through the store windows and into the honest hearts of every store owner. As the evening hours approached, it was difficult for the shopkeepers to attend to customers with their usual charming demeanors, with the night fast approaching. Finally, their small town closing time of 4:30 and 5 pm occurred and the tourists lingered a bit for dinners and left the island. The shopkeepers tried to expedite closing time procedures in restaurants, dessert shops, cafes, and even many of the souvenir shops and art galleries.
But that night, a few shopkeepers received a tweet:
Twitter Feed
STAY ON ISLAND 2011.03.22 AFTER 20:00. TORRENTIAL RAINSTORMS EXPECTED. DANGEROUS WATER LEVELS. FERRY DOWN AFTER 20:00. 8 PM LOCAL TIME.
Beatrice Kovar, from the high-end childrens clothing consignment shop, wasnt sure if the tweet was legit even though it was from the Washington State Park of Transportation (WSPOT). But she checked in with a few of her colleagues also working on the downtown strip along the both sides of the cobble road. Alas, through the radio, word of mouth, and blog updates, all discovered the same thing: there was no way off to get off the island. A low pressure system of clouds would be spinning low bring a cold front and heavy rain. Damn climate change.
The shopkeepers tried to keep their cool but time was of essence. Quickly, they gathered as much weaponry as they could imagine with their limited resources. Artillery included water sports equipment, stuffed animals, frames, and wooden signs with sentimental quotes, as well as day-old baguettes. They all huddled into a childrens stuffed animal store. Daniel Stangold tried to see if he could get into one the picture-perfect houses. He tried side windows and back doors, but to no avail. Its true: they were just a front. In fact, the houses looked as flimsy as if they were made of cardboard.
That night, they tried to spend their time keeping moods light. But as twilight approached, they all watched the sun go down in silence. Puffin Island became very still. The only sound, the sound of the pouring rain, roared in the merchants ears. Then, Daniel Stangold perked up and tracked distance sounds his eyes slowly traversing from left to right. The moans were faint at first. But then, the sea zombies, of various human forms like sailors and pirates, as well as mermaids and mermen, began to moan louder. They sounded hungry.
Carefully, Beatrice Kovar gingerly crawled towards a window. Holding their breath, she peered out. Quickly, she ducked back down, catching her breath with her eyes closed. You hear about zombies all the time, but to see them in the flesh, these once handsome sailors and beautifully sculpted mermaid and mermen in decomposing forms was just too much to bear. The skin of their cheeks was peeling off, with some pieces falling to the sandy shores, and onto the cobble streets the zombies quickly dominated. Some had eyeballs hanging out of sockets and others had maggots completely clouding their remaining strands of hair. Beatrice was shaking with her lips pressed together and eyes tightly shut trying to erase the impact of what she witnessed.
Theyre coming. God save us, she told the others, as they waited impatiently for her to gather herself together and tell them what she saw.
Amelia Wu then caught a glimpse three water zombies lumbering past the other side of the block. It turned out that maintaining the dummy houses was not only a strategic way to keep a steady flow of tourists, but it also thwarted several mermen zombies. In their frustration, some mermen knocked down the flimsy outer boards of the houses. They rattled on doors along all stores, and tried to shatter the gorilla-glass windows. When the spying shopkeepers were surprised to see that the zombies were able to break into some of the shops, fears heightened. It would only be a matter of minutes before they got into Stangold Stuffies.
What should we do? whispered in Amelia, trying to hold back her hysteria.
Hide in the big mound of those bigger stuffed animals? Beatrice pointed to the counter with the teddy bears bearing price tags for those tourists that owned several yachts.
Theyll smell us out. We need to run for it if they come in and just distract them. Well have to tag team to do that, responded Daniel.
Before he could explain his strategy, the moans grew so loudly and the rattles at the door were too imminent to ignore. Nobody could listen anymore as their forebrains shut down in emergency mode. Athena screamed and the zombies grew very excited. In moments, more zombies came over to their jackpot: Stangold Stuffies stuffed animal store. The pounding continued, and one sailor zombie entered the small store. Panting, the shopkeepers dashed out the back door and slammed the door behind them. But the weight of now dozens of zombies on the other side was too much to handle. The zombies shuffled through the store and were able to knock down the back door as well. The shopkeepers clung to each other in the open air, whimpering, with more zombies coming from the other side of the street. As the shopkeepers huddled together, the zombies moans of hunger were unbearable to hear. But just as the zombies bug-eyed faces neared close enough that the shopkeepers could smell their putrid-smell breath of sewage, dawn arrived.
In an instance, the zombies let out blood-curdling screams and raced back to the waters as fast as they could. The shopkeepers stood together, frozen in shock, while they watched the ocean turn calm. Everything was clear, and they almost collectively sighed. They continued to hug each other, and sobbed on each others shoulders. The suns soft yellow light became warmer and brighter, and now it was time to prepare for the day. Daniel, with the help of a few others, quickly put the houses outer boards upright again. They helped each other pick up debris in the stores, and prepare for opening hours. Within several hours, and skipping breakfast, the stores were ready to open at 9:30 a.m.
********
Postcard #5
Hi Don,
I just cant get over how cute this place is! I mean, did you hear about the storm last night? But all the islanders are just so pleasant all the time! They must be able to handle anything. Well, they certainly have beautiful scenery to keep them going. Its so cute here I could gobble this place up. I decided on what prints to buy! And I found a really cute cat toy for Musty at this shop called Pawticulars. Isnt that just so cute? Honestly, Don, youre gonna love it here. If we cant find a bed-n-breakfast, well just have to backpack here.
I love you, see you tomorrow morning! Im flying southwest.
Jenna.
P.S. My presentation was a success! We celebrated over banana splits!
Postcard #1
Dear Don,
Its so cute here! I hope you like this postcard check out the photo of the sunrise above these quaint little houses. We should totally move here! But the odd thing is that I havent seen any locals in the streets. I mean, seriously! Doesnt anyone live in these perfect little neighborhoods? Its actually a little weird. The Fisheries conference is going well. Someone spoke on trout gill pH changes due to fireworks shows over the water. Take care of Musty and make sure he doesnt kick kitty litter everywhere.
Love,
Jenna.
Postcard #2
Donny,
I miss you! I hope the testing team at work isnt getting on your nerves. Just take deep breaths if you have to start with fresh code. Remember to get more milk if you run out rather than just using frozen lemonade in your cereal! Of course, I dont mean to belittle you. Anyway, today I went to this super cute chocolate shop! Im bringing you something! Its a surprise! Ok I cant hold back: its a chocolate SHIP! Arent you gonna love it? It smelled so good in the shop and it even has delicate sails and ropes. There was also a cute print shop from local photographers but I cant decide on one yet. Every single photo of the island is almost too perfect. Yknow what I mean? Its almost eerie. But the cuteness overrides the eeriness.  I mean, doesnt anyone ever forget to mow their lawns? Tell Musty I miss him and I hope hes keeping my side of the bed warm.
Love,
Jenna.
Postcard #3
Hi Don,
The conference is going really well and Im getting the hang of the ferry rides off of the mainland. I wish I could just stay here rather than commuting in from Everett (just north of Seattle) each day though. At lunch, I had a really cute cupcake after enjoying a panini over live jazz music. This place is unreal! Lets come here for our anniversary! Though I havent found a single bed-n-breakfast. Ill look out for one.
Kisses,
Jenna
********
Little did Jenna know that nobody did live on the island. The shopkeepers hoped to put up a front, so that the island looked cozier and brought in more tourists. And it always worked.
********
Postcard #4
Hi Don,
Today, the conference ended early. Which was nice. I was really dozing off in there. I was feeling groggy all day. Maybe its the weather. Its been really overcast and I havent gotten an ounce of sunlight. Ill need to photosynthesize in the sun and get some Vitamin D once Im back in Austin. Anyway, Im presenting tomorrow though. Im really looking forward to it. I cant believe I earned a presentation for my research, not just a poster session. This is such a great opportunity, but I miss you and Musty. I went back to the print shop today but the man in the store wasnt as friendly as when I popped in yesterday. And, I got the same aloof attitude when visiting this really cute jewelry shop. Oh well, maybe everyone is impacted by the heavy clouds. My clothes even got wet with mist!
Love,
Jenna
P.S. I got some cute boxers for you with puffins on them. Theyre adorable! I cant wait to see you in them. I think we should donate to the WWF to protect puffins. Theyre so cute. They even sound cute. Puffins. Seriously!
********
The shopkeepers were aloof and nervous for good reason. The looming clouds of this sort of density were of grave concern. It hadnt been since 1942 that anyone in retail had to stay on the island. Maybe what happened in 1942 was a legend, but it still made the Puffin Islanders uneasy. Fear rippled through the store windows and into the honest hearts of every store owner. As the evening hours approached, it was difficult for the shopkeepers to attend to customers with their usual charming demeanors, with the night fast approaching. Finally, their small town closing time of 4:30 and 5 pm occurred and the tourists lingered a bit for dinners and left the island. The shopkeepers tried to expedite closing time procedures in restaurants, dessert shops, cafes, and even many of the souvenir shops and art galleries.
But that night, a few shopkeepers received a tweet:
Twitter Feed
STAY ON ISLAND 2011.03.22 AFTER 20:00. TORRENTIAL RAINSTORMS EXPECTED. DANGEROUS WATER LEVELS. FERRY DOWN AFTER 20:00. 8 PM LOCAL TIME.
Beatrice Kovar, from the high-end childrens clothing consignment shop, wasnt sure if the tweet was legit even though it was from the Washington State Park of Transportation (WSPOT). But she checked in with a few of her colleagues also working on the downtown strip along the both sides of the cobble road. Alas, through the radio, word of mouth, and blog updates, all discovered the same thing: there was no way off to get off the island. A low pressure system of clouds would be spinning low bring a cold front and heavy rain. Damn climate change.
The shopkeepers tried to keep their cool but time was of essence. Quickly, they gathered as much weaponry as they could imagine with their limited resources. Artillery included water sports equipment, stuffed animals, frames, and wooden signs with sentimental quotes, as well as day-old baguettes. They all huddled into a childrens stuffed animal store. Daniel Stangold tried to see if he could get into one the picture-perfect houses. He tried side windows and back doors, but to no avail. Its true: they were just a front. In fact, the houses looked as flimsy as if they were made of cardboard.
That night, they tried to spend their time keeping moods light. But as twilight approached, they all watched the sun go down in silence. Puffin Island became very still. The only sound, the sound of the pouring rain, roared in the merchants ears. Then, Daniel Stangold perked up and tracked distance sounds his eyes slowly traversing from left to right. The moans were faint at first. But then, the sea zombies, of various human forms like sailors and pirates, as well as mermaids and mermen, began to moan louder. They sounded hungry.
Carefully, Beatrice Kovar gingerly crawled towards a window. Holding their breath, she peered out. Quickly, she ducked back down, catching her breath with her eyes closed. You hear about zombies all the time, but to see them in the flesh, these once handsome sailors and beautifully sculpted mermaid and mermen in decomposing forms was just too much to bear. The skin of their cheeks was peeling off, with some pieces falling to the sandy shores, and onto the cobble streets the zombies quickly dominated. Some had eyeballs hanging out of sockets and others had maggots completely clouding their remaining strands of hair. Beatrice was shaking with her lips pressed together and eyes tightly shut trying to erase the impact of what she witnessed.
Theyre coming. God save us, she told the others, as they waited impatiently for her to gather herself together and tell them what she saw.
Amelia Wu then caught a glimpse three water zombies lumbering past the other side of the block. It turned out that maintaining the dummy houses was not only a strategic way to keep a steady flow of tourists, but it also thwarted several mermen zombies. In their frustration, some mermen knocked down the flimsy outer boards of the houses. They rattled on doors along all stores, and tried to shatter the gorilla-glass windows. When the spying shopkeepers were surprised to see that the zombies were able to break into some of the shops, fears heightened. It would only be a matter of minutes before they got into Stangold Stuffies.
What should we do? whispered in Amelia, trying to hold back her hysteria.
Hide in the big mound of those bigger stuffed animals? Beatrice pointed to the counter with the teddy bears bearing price tags for those tourists that owned several yachts.
Theyll smell us out. We need to run for it if they come in and just distract them. Well have to tag team to do that, responded Daniel.
Before he could explain his strategy, the moans grew so loudly and the rattles at the door were too imminent to ignore. Nobody could listen anymore as their forebrains shut down in emergency mode. Athena screamed and the zombies grew very excited. In moments, more zombies came over to their jackpot: Stangold Stuffies stuffed animal store. The pounding continued, and one sailor zombie entered the small store. Panting, the shopkeepers dashed out the back door and slammed the door behind them. But the weight of now dozens of zombies on the other side was too much to handle. The zombies shuffled through the store and were able to knock down the back door as well. The shopkeepers clung to each other in the open air, whimpering, with more zombies coming from the other side of the street. As the shopkeepers huddled together, the zombies moans of hunger were unbearable to hear. But just as the zombies bug-eyed faces neared close enough that the shopkeepers could smell their putrid-smell breath of sewage, dawn arrived.
In an instance, the zombies let out blood-curdling screams and raced back to the waters as fast as they could. The shopkeepers stood together, frozen in shock, while they watched the ocean turn calm. Everything was clear, and they almost collectively sighed. They continued to hug each other, and sobbed on each others shoulders. The suns soft yellow light became warmer and brighter, and now it was time to prepare for the day. Daniel, with the help of a few others, quickly put the houses outer boards upright again. They helped each other pick up debris in the stores, and prepare for opening hours. Within several hours, and skipping breakfast, the stores were ready to open at 9:30 a.m.
********
Postcard #5
Hi Don,
I just cant get over how cute this place is! I mean, did you hear about the storm last night? But all the islanders are just so pleasant all the time! They must be able to handle anything. Well, they certainly have beautiful scenery to keep them going. Its so cute here I could gobble this place up. I decided on what prints to buy! And I found a really cute cat toy for Musty at this shop called Pawticulars. Isnt that just so cute? Honestly, Don, youre gonna love it here. If we cant find a bed-n-breakfast, well just have to backpack here.
I love you, see you tomorrow morning! Im flying southwest.
Jenna.
P.S. My presentation was a success! We celebrated over banana splits!
He Saw Angels (~1910 Words)
Do you believe in angels, Miss Delacroix?
She shuddered in the doorway and dropped her bag. Howd you, howd you get in here? she asked, as she caught her breath. Her heart thumped.
The kitchen window, replied Thomas. He stood in the shadows of the far corner of the bedroom. He took a step toward her. Slithers of afternoon sun, split by the blinds, crawled atop the tips of his loafers. The latch is broken. It didnt take much effort. He raised his crooked right arm. His gun divided the light. You should get that fixed, he said.
She stared at the gun pointed at her. It was the only thing formed in her world. A lump caught in her throat. She swallowed air into stone lungs. I, I should, she said. Never know what sorts, right?
Thomas nodded. He held the gun aimed and steadied as he slipped past the window and into another shadowed corner. He motioned with the gun. It wasnt much of a magic trick to get her into the corner where he had waited for her. He stood across the room from her.
Though he tried to hide in the shadows, she saw him. In that moment when he crossed the light of the window, she saw all of him. She saw the sweat around his collar, the creases of his brow, and the thinning of his hair. She saw how he approached middle age and how he seemed to have the world on his shoulders. And as a woman with black hair and earthen skin, she saw how he was the opposite of her.
My question, Regina, he said. Do you believe in angels?
I believe in whatever the man with the gun tells me to, she replied. Thats what I believe.
He scowled. And if I wasnt? he asked. If I didnt have this thing?
Yeah, because thats what we are, she said, smirking. Her words didnt hide her sarcasm. Thats what we are, were just two people having a conversation. Two random people who happened to sit on the same bus bench or who just met at temple.
How about you pretend? he said. He straightened his arm at her. How about you pretend what the man with the gun tells you to!
Regina held her arms outward and to her sides and stepped from the full-length mirror behind her that she often used after getting dressed for work. Then Id tell you about my stepfather, she began. Id tell you about how he used to go around on the weekends or weeks off work and help build houses for people who needed one. Hed sometimes take me along with him. Hed tell me about the people who might have fallen on hard times. Families who might have gotten the short end from the banks. Hed tell me about the ones who volunteer their time and money to put up a roof for others. And my stepfather would say that you could see angels all around.
Thomas shook his head. They told me youd do this, he said. They said you would try to talk me out of it.
Who wouldnt? she said. You dont believe me? I could build a house for you.
They told me youd do this.
Who? she asked. Her open hands awaited an answer.
The angels, of course, he said. His eyes glazed, and his body remembered the numbness of that encounter with the angels. It was like a dream. They came to me. The angels did.
Regina eyed him. It seemed like she could rush him and perhaps knock the gun from his hand. But she remained. She wanted to hear his story. She wanted to hear the angels.
It was night, and I was watching reruns of a football game, he said. It was a classic. From six years ago. A last second field goal saved the game for us. You watch football?
Regina thought for a moment. Her hand went over as if it were flipping the page of a book. I like the other football, she said.
Soccer, he said.
She nodded. And for a moment, they stood in silence.
It was like that, he said. The moment before. Just complete silence. No announcers. No cheers from the crowd on the TV. Just utter quiet.
The calm before the storm, she said.
He nodded in agreement. Have you ever stood next to the speakers at a rock concert? he asked. He didnt wait for a response. It was like that when they came. And something with the eyes. Something happened to my sight.
Your sight? asked Regina. What do you mean?
I mean, it was like I was staring at train wheels going at top speed, he said. His eyes dilated. His voice droned. Round and round. And they told me, when they came, they told me that you, you Regina Delacroix, that you would take my family from me. That somehow He shook a fist at his side. Some way, you would cause the death of my family. And they told me that I was given this, a rare opportunity, a gift, a miracle even, to save them. He drew a deep breath. They told me to save them.
How? she said. How do I take them from you? That doesnt make sense!
They wouldnt tell me. I asked, he replied. They said I could save them. Save them from you. You have to die for my family.
Look, said Regina. If this If I did something to hurt them, then Id agree with you. But I havent, and I dont know why any sort of angels would tell you that. I work with children. I try to help people.
His eyes tried to uncover the truth of her, but they just trembled in failure. A teacher? he asked.
She shook her head. I work at a youth center.
His face became animated. He sneered. Muslim? he asked.
What? she said. No. Her head shook as she tried to comprehend his leap in logic. No one asks. The center is for disadvantaged youths.
Thats it, he said, sure of himself. Youre training them to strap bombs to their chests.
We let them play basketball. We teach them football. We tutor them, she said. We make sure theyre fed.
Thomas growled. He held the gun with both hands and seemed to pound an imaginary nail with the gun butt. Help me understand! he shouted, flinging spit from his mouth.
Regina held her hands up to her shoulders. She tried to be small. She tried to be non-threatening. She was a lamb. I had a Bat Mitzvah when I was twelve, she said in a soothing voice. I did it because I wanted to be like my stepfather. I followed along with what he believed. It wasnt until I was older when I decided that I wanted to find out for myself. I needed to see for myself. Dont just listen to them.
His arms dropped to his sides. Thomas looked up. He wanted the ceiling to part like the Red Sea. He wanted a deluge to wash him away. He wanted a voice to tell him what to do. But it was just silence, just the calm. They gave me the choice. They let me have this chance, he said.
Thomas Bridgemore, listen to me. Dont do this, she said. She bowed her head down to the side and pointed to the mirror behind her. Look at yourself. Look in the mirror. Youre a good man. Youre not a murderer.
Thomas looked. He stared at his reflection. He was a man; he couldnt deny that. He looked so small in the glass from where he stood. His shoulders slumped. He was shaking, and he couldnt stop shaking. His eyes streaked red. The gun felt heavy. He felt weak. He looked weak.
If you want to save your family, she began. Dont do this.
Regina held a hand out to him. Her lips mouthed the word please.
They said you would try to talk me out of it.
The room filled with shadows.
You dont know what
The air popped. The bullet stabbed through her side. Regina fell back. Her arms flailed wide as if she had been hit by a freight train. She crashed into the mirror behind her. Glass shards clung to her scalp. Her lungs gasped for air like a fish out of water. Blood gushed and pooled under her as she lay on the floor. She pressed a hand against her wound. The world seemed to spin around her. She looked down. Blood was everywhere. She held up a blood-soaked palm. Blood on your hands, she said. Blood on mine.
She looked at him with such, such pity.
The breaking glass twinkled like harp strings. The tear gas canister clinked and sprayed. The angels rode the clouds. He choked up and fell to his knees. Their voices were like sirens. Spreading wings and silver shields surrounded him. They stood over him.
The chariots went round and round. Thomas didnt say anything to the police. He didnt say anything to anyone. He spoke only to angels now.
I did good? asked Thomas. His eyes stared at something far off. He forced his lips into a crooked smile. He felt cold.
You did as expected.
Whats that supposed to mean? he asked. He tried to gesture, but the shackles bound him, such a thorn in his side.
We told you to save your family. You killed the woman. That is what we expected.
But I saved them, didnt I? What about my family?
Your wife will remarry and birth two more children. Your daughter will live until a stroke takes her at the age of fifty-four.
Remarry? What the hell are you talking about? asked Thomas. He snarled.
In forty hours, the guilt of what you have done will weight your soul down, and you will slit your own wrists with a thumbtack that will become lodged in the sole of your right shoe. You do not survive.
But you said You said! shouted Thomas. He didnt care who heard him. He wanted everyone and the heavenly host to hear him. He raised a fist. He wanted to choke them all and bring them all to their knees. Just like her. Just like he had done to Regina. He slumped down. I, I get to go to heaven, right? I get to see my family there, right?
What do you think, Thomas Bridgemore? Do you think heaven takes your kind?
I just, I just wanted to save them, said Thomas. Thats all.
This was a test, you thick fool. And you did everything we expected. How do you expect your kind to hold the keys to the kingdom?
What kind of sick test is that supposed to be? asked Thomas. His tone was flat, as if he had been punched too many times in the head and was stumbling about. He had no fight left in him. How could God do this? Are you even an angel? What kind of God does this?
God? Thomas Bridgemore, God doesnt judge. He delegates.
Oh, God, said Thomas, in a blurt. He remembered her face. He remembered that look of such pity on her face, as she lay dying. Who was she? Who did I kill?
Who? No one in particular. Someone like you.
Just another child of God.
Do you believe in angels, Miss Delacroix?
She shuddered in the doorway and dropped her bag. Howd you, howd you get in here? she asked, as she caught her breath. Her heart thumped.
The kitchen window, replied Thomas. He stood in the shadows of the far corner of the bedroom. He took a step toward her. Slithers of afternoon sun, split by the blinds, crawled atop the tips of his loafers. The latch is broken. It didnt take much effort. He raised his crooked right arm. His gun divided the light. You should get that fixed, he said.
She stared at the gun pointed at her. It was the only thing formed in her world. A lump caught in her throat. She swallowed air into stone lungs. I, I should, she said. Never know what sorts, right?
Thomas nodded. He held the gun aimed and steadied as he slipped past the window and into another shadowed corner. He motioned with the gun. It wasnt much of a magic trick to get her into the corner where he had waited for her. He stood across the room from her.
Though he tried to hide in the shadows, she saw him. In that moment when he crossed the light of the window, she saw all of him. She saw the sweat around his collar, the creases of his brow, and the thinning of his hair. She saw how he approached middle age and how he seemed to have the world on his shoulders. And as a woman with black hair and earthen skin, she saw how he was the opposite of her.
My question, Regina, he said. Do you believe in angels?
I believe in whatever the man with the gun tells me to, she replied. Thats what I believe.
He scowled. And if I wasnt? he asked. If I didnt have this thing?
Yeah, because thats what we are, she said, smirking. Her words didnt hide her sarcasm. Thats what we are, were just two people having a conversation. Two random people who happened to sit on the same bus bench or who just met at temple.
How about you pretend? he said. He straightened his arm at her. How about you pretend what the man with the gun tells you to!
Regina held her arms outward and to her sides and stepped from the full-length mirror behind her that she often used after getting dressed for work. Then Id tell you about my stepfather, she began. Id tell you about how he used to go around on the weekends or weeks off work and help build houses for people who needed one. Hed sometimes take me along with him. Hed tell me about the people who might have fallen on hard times. Families who might have gotten the short end from the banks. Hed tell me about the ones who volunteer their time and money to put up a roof for others. And my stepfather would say that you could see angels all around.
Thomas shook his head. They told me youd do this, he said. They said you would try to talk me out of it.
Who wouldnt? she said. You dont believe me? I could build a house for you.
They told me youd do this.
Who? she asked. Her open hands awaited an answer.
The angels, of course, he said. His eyes glazed, and his body remembered the numbness of that encounter with the angels. It was like a dream. They came to me. The angels did.
Regina eyed him. It seemed like she could rush him and perhaps knock the gun from his hand. But she remained. She wanted to hear his story. She wanted to hear the angels.
It was night, and I was watching reruns of a football game, he said. It was a classic. From six years ago. A last second field goal saved the game for us. You watch football?
Regina thought for a moment. Her hand went over as if it were flipping the page of a book. I like the other football, she said.
Soccer, he said.
She nodded. And for a moment, they stood in silence.
It was like that, he said. The moment before. Just complete silence. No announcers. No cheers from the crowd on the TV. Just utter quiet.
The calm before the storm, she said.
He nodded in agreement. Have you ever stood next to the speakers at a rock concert? he asked. He didnt wait for a response. It was like that when they came. And something with the eyes. Something happened to my sight.
Your sight? asked Regina. What do you mean?
I mean, it was like I was staring at train wheels going at top speed, he said. His eyes dilated. His voice droned. Round and round. And they told me, when they came, they told me that you, you Regina Delacroix, that you would take my family from me. That somehow He shook a fist at his side. Some way, you would cause the death of my family. And they told me that I was given this, a rare opportunity, a gift, a miracle even, to save them. He drew a deep breath. They told me to save them.
How? she said. How do I take them from you? That doesnt make sense!
They wouldnt tell me. I asked, he replied. They said I could save them. Save them from you. You have to die for my family.
Look, said Regina. If this If I did something to hurt them, then Id agree with you. But I havent, and I dont know why any sort of angels would tell you that. I work with children. I try to help people.
His eyes tried to uncover the truth of her, but they just trembled in failure. A teacher? he asked.
She shook her head. I work at a youth center.
His face became animated. He sneered. Muslim? he asked.
What? she said. No. Her head shook as she tried to comprehend his leap in logic. No one asks. The center is for disadvantaged youths.
Thats it, he said, sure of himself. Youre training them to strap bombs to their chests.
We let them play basketball. We teach them football. We tutor them, she said. We make sure theyre fed.
Thomas growled. He held the gun with both hands and seemed to pound an imaginary nail with the gun butt. Help me understand! he shouted, flinging spit from his mouth.
Regina held her hands up to her shoulders. She tried to be small. She tried to be non-threatening. She was a lamb. I had a Bat Mitzvah when I was twelve, she said in a soothing voice. I did it because I wanted to be like my stepfather. I followed along with what he believed. It wasnt until I was older when I decided that I wanted to find out for myself. I needed to see for myself. Dont just listen to them.
His arms dropped to his sides. Thomas looked up. He wanted the ceiling to part like the Red Sea. He wanted a deluge to wash him away. He wanted a voice to tell him what to do. But it was just silence, just the calm. They gave me the choice. They let me have this chance, he said.
Thomas Bridgemore, listen to me. Dont do this, she said. She bowed her head down to the side and pointed to the mirror behind her. Look at yourself. Look in the mirror. Youre a good man. Youre not a murderer.
Thomas looked. He stared at his reflection. He was a man; he couldnt deny that. He looked so small in the glass from where he stood. His shoulders slumped. He was shaking, and he couldnt stop shaking. His eyes streaked red. The gun felt heavy. He felt weak. He looked weak.
If you want to save your family, she began. Dont do this.
Regina held a hand out to him. Her lips mouthed the word please.
They said you would try to talk me out of it.
The room filled with shadows.
You dont know what
The air popped. The bullet stabbed through her side. Regina fell back. Her arms flailed wide as if she had been hit by a freight train. She crashed into the mirror behind her. Glass shards clung to her scalp. Her lungs gasped for air like a fish out of water. Blood gushed and pooled under her as she lay on the floor. She pressed a hand against her wound. The world seemed to spin around her. She looked down. Blood was everywhere. She held up a blood-soaked palm. Blood on your hands, she said. Blood on mine.
She looked at him with such, such pity.
The breaking glass twinkled like harp strings. The tear gas canister clinked and sprayed. The angels rode the clouds. He choked up and fell to his knees. Their voices were like sirens. Spreading wings and silver shields surrounded him. They stood over him.
The chariots went round and round. Thomas didnt say anything to the police. He didnt say anything to anyone. He spoke only to angels now.
I did good? asked Thomas. His eyes stared at something far off. He forced his lips into a crooked smile. He felt cold.
You did as expected.
Whats that supposed to mean? he asked. He tried to gesture, but the shackles bound him, such a thorn in his side.
We told you to save your family. You killed the woman. That is what we expected.
But I saved them, didnt I? What about my family?
Your wife will remarry and birth two more children. Your daughter will live until a stroke takes her at the age of fifty-four.
Remarry? What the hell are you talking about? asked Thomas. He snarled.
In forty hours, the guilt of what you have done will weight your soul down, and you will slit your own wrists with a thumbtack that will become lodged in the sole of your right shoe. You do not survive.
But you said You said! shouted Thomas. He didnt care who heard him. He wanted everyone and the heavenly host to hear him. He raised a fist. He wanted to choke them all and bring them all to their knees. Just like her. Just like he had done to Regina. He slumped down. I, I get to go to heaven, right? I get to see my family there, right?
What do you think, Thomas Bridgemore? Do you think heaven takes your kind?
I just, I just wanted to save them, said Thomas. Thats all.
This was a test, you thick fool. And you did everything we expected. How do you expect your kind to hold the keys to the kingdom?
What kind of sick test is that supposed to be? asked Thomas. His tone was flat, as if he had been punched too many times in the head and was stumbling about. He had no fight left in him. How could God do this? Are you even an angel? What kind of God does this?
God? Thomas Bridgemore, God doesnt judge. He delegates.
Oh, God, said Thomas, in a blurt. He remembered her face. He remembered that look of such pity on her face, as she lay dying. Who was she? Who did I kill?
Who? No one in particular. Someone like you.
Just another child of God.
My little brother's an idiot.
I wasn't aware of the keys dropping from my hand. I didn't notice my jaw dropped, mouth gaping. My eyes were wide, bulging as they surveyed the grisly scene that took place in the family room. I stood frozen in place, not really grasping the situation at hand. My body and mind was numb. Numb. It wasn't until my brother spoke that I snapped back to reality. The reality that he'd done something so stupid...so utterly stupid that I'd regret leaving the house to begin with. I was gone only ten minutes. Ten minutes.
It was an accident, my brother said, which came out as an unintelligible croak than an explanation.
I looked down at him. His large, pleading eyes brimming with tears and face streaked red. He was cradling his friend Marcus' head in his lap. My brother was pressing a blue bath towel into his stomach as the kid writhed pitifully on the floor, his Nikes digging into white carpeting that was quickly turning maroon beneath them.
It wasn't hard to figure out what happen. An M9 pistol, my dad's old service weapon, lay several feet from the boys. The wall smeared crimson where the boy must have been hit. Dark red footprints marking the carpet. Sean and his lemming of a friend Marcus covered in blood.
My little brother's an idiot.
This had to be a dream-- no, a nightmare. No way this could have happened. No way my brother could be this stupid. No, Stupid Sean was when he and Marcus jumped off the roof when they were six, convinced they could fly like Superman--- they couldn't. Stupid is when Sean and Marcus decide to skate in the middle of the street and almost get hit by oncoming traffic. Stupid is rock fights, imitating pro wrestlers, smoking mom's cigarettes. Not...this.
The towel was turning purple. My brother's eyes pleading.
Sean, I managed. what have you done?
I wasn't aware of the keys dropping from my hand. I didn't notice my jaw dropped, mouth gaping. My eyes were wide, bulging as they surveyed the grisly scene that took place in the family room. I stood frozen in place, not really grasping the situation at hand. My body and mind was numb. Numb. It wasn't until my brother spoke that I snapped back to reality. The reality that he'd done something so stupid...so utterly stupid that I'd regret leaving the house to begin with. I was gone only ten minutes. Ten minutes.
It was an accident, my brother said, which came out as an unintelligible croak than an explanation.
I looked down at him. His large, pleading eyes brimming with tears and face streaked red. He was cradling his friend Marcus' head in his lap. My brother was pressing a blue bath towel into his stomach as the kid writhed pitifully on the floor, his Nikes digging into white carpeting that was quickly turning maroon beneath them.
It wasn't hard to figure out what happen. An M9 pistol, my dad's old service weapon, lay several feet from the boys. The wall smeared crimson where the boy must have been hit. Dark red footprints marking the carpet. Sean and his lemming of a friend Marcus covered in blood.
My little brother's an idiot.
This had to be a dream-- no, a nightmare. No way this could have happened. No way my brother could be this stupid. No, Stupid Sean was when he and Marcus jumped off the roof when they were six, convinced they could fly like Superman--- they couldn't. Stupid is when Sean and Marcus decide to skate in the middle of the street and almost get hit by oncoming traffic. Stupid is rock fights, imitating pro wrestlers, smoking mom's cigarettes. Not...this.
The towel was turning purple. My brother's eyes pleading.
Sean, I managed. what have you done?
Lone_Prodigy
Member
Ayo Technology (1995 words)
April 23, 2240
I'm still shaking. Today I got some of the worst news possible: Harry almost died.
I was finishing a late lunch when my phone rang. It was the hospital; Harry was involved in a hovercar accident on the freeway. I found out later he had gone out for lunch and had a couple drinks. Apparently his office had a big meeting that morning and were reporting record profits.
I couldn't drive in my condition, so Janet took me, God bless her. Along the way the doctor told me the gory details. He had slammed into a transport hovertruck and his right arm and leg were crushed almost to a pulp. Even worse, the leaking motor fluids caught fire and he suffered serious burns to about 30% of his body. His right ear and eye were lost. He somberly told me it was a freak accident; safety improvements should have prevented it.
When I reached the hospital, the doctor led me to the portal overlooking his room. I hardly recognized the figure heavily wrapped in bandages, robotic arms poking and prodding everywhere. I felt totally helpless and fearful.
The doctor told me it would be about a week before I could see him. He also had some forms for me to sign. Bureaucracy, he said.
Janet took me home. I think I sleptwalk through the rest of the day. It's now 11:30pm. I'm going to run a hot bath and take the next couple days off. Also remember to thank Janet for everything.
April 25, 2240
Busy day. Had to go to the insurance agency to get the claims sorted out. Janet recommended a lawyer to help with the criminal investigation (apparently the truck driver was drunk and negligent) so I had to sit down with him and tell him about Harry. Speaking of Harry, the doctor said hes still in no shape to talk and a neurologist will need to take a look at him. There might be brain damage.
Strange thing happened at the hospital. A man called Dr. Berard came up to talk to me. Apparently he works for a company doing techno-organic research. He says they can insert a small microchip into Harrys brain to restore some of the functions he lost, and also use some kind of prosthetics to replace the damaged nerves and muscles in his injured arm and leg. The only thing I could think about was the cost, which I assumed to be astronomical, but Dr. Berard assured me that they could work something out with whatever settlement I would get from the truck company.
May 16, 2240
Harry was well enough to accept visitors today. It was difficult for him to speak but I held his left hand and he squeezed mine in response. I told him about Dr. Berards proposal and he seemed skeptical. I explained that the neurologist would be seeing him later to assess any brain damage.
The doctor had a word with me later. He told me he did not like Dr. Berard and that he was trouble. Berards company was well-known but there were rumours about some of the side-effects of the procedures. I told him I appreciated his concern but I wanted my husband back.
May 22, 2240
My lawyer contacted me today. The truck company had agreed to cover all of Harrys medical costs, including the microchip procedure Dr. Berard had specified. All I needed was Harrys permission.
Armed with the neurologists report I encouraged Harry to do the procedure. He told me he trusted me to do the right thing and that he loved me. I cried so hard; Im tearing up again as I write this.
June 23, 2240
Its been two months since Harrys accident. Ive done my best to go on with my life as if nothing happened but the empty house always reminds me that hes in the hospital. The surgeries have been completed though and hell be home in a couple weeks if all goes well.
July 16, 2240
Harry came home today. He looked as good as new. He has a prosthetic eye and his right arm and leg have a lot of metal in them so hell be setting off the sensors whenever we travel. He told me he feels great and that all his synapses seem to be firing. His parents flew in and we had a celebration at our place.
Its really quite incredible. His skin feels like the real thing despite the burns and his movements look natural. Hes in really high spirits and kept us laughing throughout dinner with his stories of the hospital. Im glad he got the procedure.
August 14, 2240
Harry was fired from his job today. Apparently he had a heated disagreement with his boss over how the company was being run. He told me how inefficient everything was and that the board was a bunch of old fatcats more concerned about lining their own pockets. I realized that it mustve been his sharper intellect that got him in trouble. I told him he could easily get another job with his newfound genius. That seemed to calm him down.
September 3, 2240
Its been a few weeks and Harry still hasnt found a job. The settlement money is starting to dry up and Harry is still on a cocktail of post-op drugs. I told him this and he got angry with me, saying that he hasnt found an adequate job to satisfy his increasing intellect. I suggested a part-time job to help with the bills, and he grudgingly agreed.
September 7, 2240
I got a surprise when I came home today. Dr. Berard and Harry were in our living room. Harry told me that Dr. Berard had offered him a job at his company, since he had an intimate knowledge of their products and could provide feedback and improvements. Dr. Berard asked me if Harry was responding well to his enhancements, and while I was suspicious about his ultimate motive, I had to agree that Harry looked and acted just as he did before the accident.
October 6, 2240
Harry suggested we go out of a walk after dinner. He started pointing out incredible details of various buildings and objects that I could only see up-close. He was never wrong. I was getting unnerved and he couldnt stop grinning like a kid with a secret, but when I tried to head home hed insist on staying out a little longer. Soon it was dark yet Harry kept pointing out things I couldnt see at all.
Finally I had had enough and asked him whether it was his prosthetic eye that was granting him night vision. He smiled and told me that I was partially right; he had his real eye replaced with a prosthetic so he now had two. I was shocked and couldnt believe he would get a healthy body part removed. Harry tried to justify his decision by saying that it was difficult having inconsistent vision out of both eyes, but I tuned him out. Next time, I told him, ask me first.
October 24, 2240
My anger at Harry has mostly passed and were back on friendly terms again. His job is paying him an obscene salary, but he told me the stuff he does is confidential and he cant talk about it.
I got a pleasant surprise when I came home today. Harry had taken the time to cook me a gourmet meal, complete with real candles and vintage wine. I asked him what the occasion was and he said he wanted to make it up to me for getting a prosthetic eye without consulting me first. I forgave him and we had a wonderful dinner.
Later while we were in the bedroom I noticed something strange; Harry seemed much more passionate than usual. We had remained intimate after his accident but this was on an entirely different level. Afterwards while we were recovering he let it slip; he had an enhancement done on his genitals. I was furious with him but the rush of hormones and fatigue tempered my reaction. It was only a small thing and it only benefits me, right?
November 6, 2240
Something is very wrong with Harry. I cant be certain, but he seems taller than before, his slight beer belly has disappeared, and his hair isnt as thinning as it once was. Frankly I dont think its his exercise and diet regime that have contributed to this, yet he wont admit to having any more procedures done.
I did some research on Dr. Berards company and they use a type of organic metal that basically mimics the skin and bones of the recipient. Im afraid Im losing the man I married.
November 12, 2240
I visited Harry at work today. I demanded to see him and caused a scene at reception before he came out. I screamed that he needed to reverse all the procedures hed done or I would leave him. Harry remained unnaturally calm and asked if I wanted him as he was before: a broken, wounded shell of a man. He brought up our stable finances, his rising status in the company, and how our lovemaking was even better than before.
Of course he was right. He was always right. His bloody microchip made sure of that. I suddenly felt sick and stumbled out, ignoring his help. I hailed a taxi and went to the doctor, fearing the worst. The doctor ran a battery of tests and confirmed it: I was pregnant. I felt no joy, only overwhelming fear; could Harry have passed down his organic metal into my unborn child? I couldnt tell Harry. I called Janet and asked to stay over at her place for a couple nights, and also asked her to tell Harry. I needed time to think.
November 14, 2240
I went to see the doctor who initially treated Harry when he had his accident. He agreed to run some tests on me to find traces of the organic metal. When I asked how he knew so much, he said he used to work with Dr. Berard and quit because he did not like how they were overusing the organic metal.
November 17, 2240
Ive decided. I cant live with Harry anymore; the man I loved died 7 months ago. Im going to take my child, regardless of the test results, and raise him away from his cyborg father.
Janet drove me to our house so I could pack my bags. I walked through the place we had lived in for 15 years: it seemed too sterile, too perfect, too... fake.
When I was leaving Harry showed up. He told me the alarm had alerted him of an intruder. Cursed technology. He said he knew I was pregnant and that he always wanted to be a father. Would I deny him that chance? He only wanted to be the perfect husband which is why he underwent the procedures.
I closed my eyes and shut my ears. His logic was impeccable but I had expected that. I told him to stand aside and let me pass. He refused to move. I swung my suitcase at him and he swept it aside easily. Too easily. I was suddenly scared. Would he hurt me and our child, I screamed. Harry hesitated, and at that moment a sliver of hope emerged. Was that the real Harry, trying to surface in a sea of choking technology?
I never found out. Suddenly Janet was there with a baseball bat and she knocked him flying. I jumped over his prone form and hurried to the car. As we pulled away I glanced back and saw him standing there motionless. I faced forward and placed my hand on my growing belly as the tears streamed down my face. I vaguely wondered if Harry could still cry.
April 23, 2240
I'm still shaking. Today I got some of the worst news possible: Harry almost died.
I was finishing a late lunch when my phone rang. It was the hospital; Harry was involved in a hovercar accident on the freeway. I found out later he had gone out for lunch and had a couple drinks. Apparently his office had a big meeting that morning and were reporting record profits.
I couldn't drive in my condition, so Janet took me, God bless her. Along the way the doctor told me the gory details. He had slammed into a transport hovertruck and his right arm and leg were crushed almost to a pulp. Even worse, the leaking motor fluids caught fire and he suffered serious burns to about 30% of his body. His right ear and eye were lost. He somberly told me it was a freak accident; safety improvements should have prevented it.
When I reached the hospital, the doctor led me to the portal overlooking his room. I hardly recognized the figure heavily wrapped in bandages, robotic arms poking and prodding everywhere. I felt totally helpless and fearful.
The doctor told me it would be about a week before I could see him. He also had some forms for me to sign. Bureaucracy, he said.
Janet took me home. I think I sleptwalk through the rest of the day. It's now 11:30pm. I'm going to run a hot bath and take the next couple days off. Also remember to thank Janet for everything.
April 25, 2240
Busy day. Had to go to the insurance agency to get the claims sorted out. Janet recommended a lawyer to help with the criminal investigation (apparently the truck driver was drunk and negligent) so I had to sit down with him and tell him about Harry. Speaking of Harry, the doctor said hes still in no shape to talk and a neurologist will need to take a look at him. There might be brain damage.
Strange thing happened at the hospital. A man called Dr. Berard came up to talk to me. Apparently he works for a company doing techno-organic research. He says they can insert a small microchip into Harrys brain to restore some of the functions he lost, and also use some kind of prosthetics to replace the damaged nerves and muscles in his injured arm and leg. The only thing I could think about was the cost, which I assumed to be astronomical, but Dr. Berard assured me that they could work something out with whatever settlement I would get from the truck company.
May 16, 2240
Harry was well enough to accept visitors today. It was difficult for him to speak but I held his left hand and he squeezed mine in response. I told him about Dr. Berards proposal and he seemed skeptical. I explained that the neurologist would be seeing him later to assess any brain damage.
The doctor had a word with me later. He told me he did not like Dr. Berard and that he was trouble. Berards company was well-known but there were rumours about some of the side-effects of the procedures. I told him I appreciated his concern but I wanted my husband back.
May 22, 2240
My lawyer contacted me today. The truck company had agreed to cover all of Harrys medical costs, including the microchip procedure Dr. Berard had specified. All I needed was Harrys permission.
Armed with the neurologists report I encouraged Harry to do the procedure. He told me he trusted me to do the right thing and that he loved me. I cried so hard; Im tearing up again as I write this.
June 23, 2240
Its been two months since Harrys accident. Ive done my best to go on with my life as if nothing happened but the empty house always reminds me that hes in the hospital. The surgeries have been completed though and hell be home in a couple weeks if all goes well.
July 16, 2240
Harry came home today. He looked as good as new. He has a prosthetic eye and his right arm and leg have a lot of metal in them so hell be setting off the sensors whenever we travel. He told me he feels great and that all his synapses seem to be firing. His parents flew in and we had a celebration at our place.
Its really quite incredible. His skin feels like the real thing despite the burns and his movements look natural. Hes in really high spirits and kept us laughing throughout dinner with his stories of the hospital. Im glad he got the procedure.
August 14, 2240
Harry was fired from his job today. Apparently he had a heated disagreement with his boss over how the company was being run. He told me how inefficient everything was and that the board was a bunch of old fatcats more concerned about lining their own pockets. I realized that it mustve been his sharper intellect that got him in trouble. I told him he could easily get another job with his newfound genius. That seemed to calm him down.
September 3, 2240
Its been a few weeks and Harry still hasnt found a job. The settlement money is starting to dry up and Harry is still on a cocktail of post-op drugs. I told him this and he got angry with me, saying that he hasnt found an adequate job to satisfy his increasing intellect. I suggested a part-time job to help with the bills, and he grudgingly agreed.
September 7, 2240
I got a surprise when I came home today. Dr. Berard and Harry were in our living room. Harry told me that Dr. Berard had offered him a job at his company, since he had an intimate knowledge of their products and could provide feedback and improvements. Dr. Berard asked me if Harry was responding well to his enhancements, and while I was suspicious about his ultimate motive, I had to agree that Harry looked and acted just as he did before the accident.
October 6, 2240
Harry suggested we go out of a walk after dinner. He started pointing out incredible details of various buildings and objects that I could only see up-close. He was never wrong. I was getting unnerved and he couldnt stop grinning like a kid with a secret, but when I tried to head home hed insist on staying out a little longer. Soon it was dark yet Harry kept pointing out things I couldnt see at all.
Finally I had had enough and asked him whether it was his prosthetic eye that was granting him night vision. He smiled and told me that I was partially right; he had his real eye replaced with a prosthetic so he now had two. I was shocked and couldnt believe he would get a healthy body part removed. Harry tried to justify his decision by saying that it was difficult having inconsistent vision out of both eyes, but I tuned him out. Next time, I told him, ask me first.
October 24, 2240
My anger at Harry has mostly passed and were back on friendly terms again. His job is paying him an obscene salary, but he told me the stuff he does is confidential and he cant talk about it.
I got a pleasant surprise when I came home today. Harry had taken the time to cook me a gourmet meal, complete with real candles and vintage wine. I asked him what the occasion was and he said he wanted to make it up to me for getting a prosthetic eye without consulting me first. I forgave him and we had a wonderful dinner.
Later while we were in the bedroom I noticed something strange; Harry seemed much more passionate than usual. We had remained intimate after his accident but this was on an entirely different level. Afterwards while we were recovering he let it slip; he had an enhancement done on his genitals. I was furious with him but the rush of hormones and fatigue tempered my reaction. It was only a small thing and it only benefits me, right?
November 6, 2240
Something is very wrong with Harry. I cant be certain, but he seems taller than before, his slight beer belly has disappeared, and his hair isnt as thinning as it once was. Frankly I dont think its his exercise and diet regime that have contributed to this, yet he wont admit to having any more procedures done.
I did some research on Dr. Berards company and they use a type of organic metal that basically mimics the skin and bones of the recipient. Im afraid Im losing the man I married.
November 12, 2240
I visited Harry at work today. I demanded to see him and caused a scene at reception before he came out. I screamed that he needed to reverse all the procedures hed done or I would leave him. Harry remained unnaturally calm and asked if I wanted him as he was before: a broken, wounded shell of a man. He brought up our stable finances, his rising status in the company, and how our lovemaking was even better than before.
Of course he was right. He was always right. His bloody microchip made sure of that. I suddenly felt sick and stumbled out, ignoring his help. I hailed a taxi and went to the doctor, fearing the worst. The doctor ran a battery of tests and confirmed it: I was pregnant. I felt no joy, only overwhelming fear; could Harry have passed down his organic metal into my unborn child? I couldnt tell Harry. I called Janet and asked to stay over at her place for a couple nights, and also asked her to tell Harry. I needed time to think.
November 14, 2240
I went to see the doctor who initially treated Harry when he had his accident. He agreed to run some tests on me to find traces of the organic metal. When I asked how he knew so much, he said he used to work with Dr. Berard and quit because he did not like how they were overusing the organic metal.
November 17, 2240
Ive decided. I cant live with Harry anymore; the man I loved died 7 months ago. Im going to take my child, regardless of the test results, and raise him away from his cyborg father.
Janet drove me to our house so I could pack my bags. I walked through the place we had lived in for 15 years: it seemed too sterile, too perfect, too... fake.
When I was leaving Harry showed up. He told me the alarm had alerted him of an intruder. Cursed technology. He said he knew I was pregnant and that he always wanted to be a father. Would I deny him that chance? He only wanted to be the perfect husband which is why he underwent the procedures.
I closed my eyes and shut my ears. His logic was impeccable but I had expected that. I told him to stand aside and let me pass. He refused to move. I swung my suitcase at him and he swept it aside easily. Too easily. I was suddenly scared. Would he hurt me and our child, I screamed. Harry hesitated, and at that moment a sliver of hope emerged. Was that the real Harry, trying to surface in a sea of choking technology?
I never found out. Suddenly Janet was there with a baseball bat and she knocked him flying. I jumped over his prone form and hurried to the car. As we pulled away I glanced back and saw him standing there motionless. I faced forward and placed my hand on my growing belly as the tears streamed down my face. I vaguely wondered if Harry could still cry.
The Entries:
ronito - "I give up. My entry is bad and I should feel bad"
Melchiah - "Within the Static, Beneath the Echoes" (ineligible, please read and comment anyway)
Jedeye Sniv - "Mark sent you a message!"
Ashes1396 - "Walking in the desert" (spoiler-tagless)
Speschal K - "Zancer"
John Dunbar - "Freedom Flight"
bengraven - "Feels Like Home"
AnkitT - "Smother"
Miri - "Cause: Known"
ThoseDeafMutes - "Box"
Cyan - "Stranger Danger"
Irish - untitled
Tangent - "Quaint"
DumbNameD - "He Saw Angels"
weepy - "Why?"
Lone_Prodigy - "Ayo Technology"
ronito - "I give up. My entry is bad and I should feel bad"
Melchiah - "Within the Static, Beneath the Echoes" (ineligible, please read and comment anyway)
Jedeye Sniv - "Mark sent you a message!"
Ashes1396 - "Walking in the desert" (spoiler-tagless)
Speschal K - "Zancer"
John Dunbar - "Freedom Flight"
bengraven - "Feels Like Home"
AnkitT - "Smother"
Miri - "Cause: Known"
ThoseDeafMutes - "Box"
Cyan - "Stranger Danger"
Irish - untitled
Tangent - "Quaint"
DumbNameD - "He Saw Angels"
weepy - "Why?"
Lone_Prodigy - "Ayo Technology"
Tim the Wiz
Banned
crowphoenix said:
Still waiting? Good luck, bro. I - kinda, sort of, maybe not at the same crazy-high-nervous level - know the feeling.
Jedeye Sniv
Banned
Holy crap GAF was busy last night! Time to get reading... so far Zancer is far and away my favourite, such a brilliant and simple idea.
crowphoenix
Banned
I've gotten 11 rejections so far, and I'm still waiting for five more. I'm ready for this stuff to be over. Thanks, man.Tim the Wiz said:
Just a few comments on what I've read so far...
Ronito - This was hialrious--So bad, it's good. And I know you probably didn't care how this was written at all, but I have one thing to comment on; If I was leaving a message as intense as one of these on somebody's voicemail, I sure as hell wouldn't be going into details as explicit as the color of their eyes. A simple complaint.
Melchiah - Are these actually dreams of yours? If so, that's pretty fucking horrifying, man. I've rarely, if ever, had a dream like this. So, I can't exactly say I know how to relate. Though, as nothing more than a reader, I can say that they feel like settings horrified for nothing else but to horrify, if that makes any sense. I don't feel anything else to it. No purpose.
Jedeye Sniv - It kept my attention without a hitch, and I actually lol'd a bit at the twist. I will say that the coversation felt a bit forced on Mark's side, and that
As usual, that's just me.
Ashes1396- I had a hard time finishing this, admitedly. Which I will also admit that I find funny, as you seem to be the most similar to me so far, in theme interpretation, and writing.
When writing out character like this, from the 1st person perspective, I have the tendancy to fill the page with nonsense, thinking, "This'll be just fine. He's not the most engaging character in the world, and the readers will further understand this by how long he rambles on. They'll better see the point that way!" No, and I've found out the hard way, this bores the shit out of people. It just doesn't work, imo, especially when said character is the only one with any say. I do appreciate your creative use of the meduim though.
Note: I did read the unspoilered version, I started with the spoilered but was runing short on time. I'll go over the spoilered version a little bit later to see how it changes things up. I'll post some more/revised impressions then.
Ronito - This was hialrious--So bad, it's good. And I know you probably didn't care how this was written at all, but I have one thing to comment on; If I was leaving a message as intense as one of these on somebody's voicemail, I sure as hell wouldn't be going into details as explicit as the color of their eyes. A simple complaint.
Melchiah - Are these actually dreams of yours? If so, that's pretty fucking horrifying, man. I've rarely, if ever, had a dream like this. So, I can't exactly say I know how to relate. Though, as nothing more than a reader, I can say that they feel like settings horrified for nothing else but to horrify, if that makes any sense. I don't feel anything else to it. No purpose.
Jedeye Sniv - It kept my attention without a hitch, and I actually lol'd a bit at the twist. I will say that the coversation felt a bit forced on Mark's side, and that
"his" change in tone was so immediately noticable, that she should have felt something wrong.
Ashes1396- I had a hard time finishing this, admitedly. Which I will also admit that I find funny, as you seem to be the most similar to me so far, in theme interpretation, and writing.
When writing out character like this, from the 1st person perspective, I have the tendancy to fill the page with nonsense, thinking, "This'll be just fine. He's not the most engaging character in the world, and the readers will further understand this by how long he rambles on. They'll better see the point that way!" No, and I've found out the hard way, this bores the shit out of people. It just doesn't work, imo, especially when said character is the only one with any say. I do appreciate your creative use of the meduim though.
Note: I did read the unspoilered version, I started with the spoilered but was runing short on time. I'll go over the spoilered version a little bit later to see how it changes things up. I'll post some more/revised impressions then.
crowphoenix
Banned
If I get into UoF (Seriously doubt it), I'll definitely look you up. As it stands, I'me about 6-8 hours from there.bengraven said:
Ashes1396 said:
Ah, ok. I had finished it, I just hadn't finished the spoiler'd version.
That's pretty much it then, though; I do want to know what was going through your mind while writing? I ask because are theme interpretation seems to be so similar, but that just may be me interpreting your piece wrong.
Yeah I don't know why but I was certainly not worthy of this challenge. I tried so many things and they all were terrible. Finally I just said "Fuck it!" and did what I did. Strange though, I don't know why it happened, and it's never really happened before. Maybe it's the exhaustion from not getting much sleep but still.Miri said:
Miri said:
It's about a Hungarian man who finds solace in an Arabian desert. And that is all there is to it. Typically, at this juncture, in reply, I would give you my cliff notes; but I'm done with doing that. If you think there is more to the piece, then look into it, if you don't then move on; life's too short.
My aim was to take you out of your chair and put your self in his shoes. If you are looking into it as a writer, more than as a reader, then I've failed to engage your reading capacity which is useful knowledge to me. Cheers for the crit.
edit: I didn't mean to sound blunt;
I spent about a week on it; I unfortunately don't have the imagination to write stuff in one go. And I won't hide my jealousy of this trait, especially when somebody writes likes this in the poetry thread, within minutes of the thread starting. And as evidenced in this thread, people write amazing stuff in the last few hours of the day.
My pieces come together more often than not to comment on the human condition.
edit: seem to be crossing wires, I commented on the fragmented nature of how I approached this over a week, because of the crit, and said stuff about rambling... (I wish I could write in one go, but they never turn out right) and not: oh woe befall me and my really hard work. Every one works differently; I'm working on my novel again; very little to no time was spent on this; I assure you.
Ashes1396 said:It's about a Hungarian man who finds solace in an Arabian desert. And that is all there is to it. Typically, at this juncture, in reply, I would give you my cliff notes; but I'm done with doing that. If you think there is more to the piece, then look into it, if you don't then move on; life's too short.
My aim was to take you out of your chair and put your self in his shoes. If you are looking into it as a writer, more than as a reader, then I've failed to engage your reading capacity which is useful knowledge to me. Cheers for the crit.
edit: I didn't mean to sound blunt;
I spent about a week on it; I unfortunately don't have the imagination to write stuff in one go. And I won't hide my jealousy of this trait, especially when somebody writes likes this in the poetry thread, within minutes of the thread starting. And as evidenced in this thread, people write amazing stuff in the last few hours of the day.
My pieces come together more often than not to comment on the human condition.
Don't worry, man. I understand the feeling completely. Even I, myself, have a hard time taking criticism on something that I've labored over for any length of time, but even still; I always prefer that people give their crits as honestly as possible, as I always attempt to do the same.
Your piece did have a good use of voice, I just felt that the framing needed some work, so to speak.
Feel free to rip a fresh one into mine
ronito said:
Lol. I've found the "fuck it" mentality to work in my favor at times.
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