Sean Harris
February 24, 2010
ENGL 2070
14 Killers
Everyday you look at yourself in the mirror and sigh heavily. Whenever you shave away the sandpaper on your face, it reveals the wrinkles that come with old age. You poke at the lines growing across your skin and shudder a little, wondering how an expressionless face could produce such deep flaws. You dress yourself in the same color palate each day, solid blues and greys, and even though your job has no uniform, you look like the typical worker. Coffee has lost its effect on you, and only the slight burn of its heat on your tongue clears your mind of blurriness. Mornings haven’t felt good in years.
You stare across the table at your family and frown in disgust. Your wife hasn’t looked at you in forever. Her sullen eyes watch her hand slowly swirling a spoon in her coffee. You remember when she used to look at you and hold you and say “I love you”. Those days are long gone now. She cringes if you touch her like you used to, and you haven’t had sex in years. Your son sits there as if he’s waiting for a chance to escape. You look at him, dressed in his struggling gangster clothes, and wonder where you went wrong. You notice that most of the colors he’s been wearing lately has been red, and today his looks are following that trend. You give them a final glance over your shoulder before you walk out the door for work, give them a fake smile, and say goodbye.
You walk outside and your eyes water a little from the cold and the smog. You see your car sitting there, still slightly frosty from the morning mist. Your poor car, it was supposed to be your dream car. A brand new Mustang should be sitting here, beckoning your presence with its powerful nature. Instead, all that sits in front of you is a used station wagon, with paint fading away in all areas. You slam the door shut after you get in, and you start the engine. The car rumbles slightly, but it starts like the reliable piece of work that it is. The garage slowly moves away as you reverse down your driveway. Your house looks smaller and smaller as you drive through your neighborhood.
You drive through the streets and look around, wondering where all the beauty in the world is. You remember reading children’s books while growing up and seeing a world full of happiness and color. You would see a world full of people smiling. A world where even the cars and buildings and clouds would smile. You don’t see any of that around you now though. A world of non-fiction flows past the windows of your car. Buildings of grey and brown, swirled by motion into a one long streak of unsightly blurriness. As a child, you never even knew colors like this existed so commonly in the world. You never see anyone smiling either. Everyone has a look of depression on their faces, as if their shadows were taking control of their expressions. The world around made it impossible for the cars and the buildings and the clouds to look happy also. Your child self would be crying right now if he knew how his future world would be crushed just by colors.
The neighborhood you live in makes you sick. You wish you could close your eyes while driving, just so you could remain ignorant to the world around you. You see signs of the ghetto all around you, and these sights weigh heavily in your right foot. The grey clouds forever linger in the sky above. They set the perfect atmosphere for the depressing neighborhood that you’re now a part of. Clouds that are so grey and so dull that they seem to be an extension of the rooftops. You feel like you haven’t seen the sun in ages. You swear that God is somehow trying to cover up this blemish on the world, and that he’s doing a damn good job at it.
You feel your car rumble as it runs over cracks in the road. No, cracks aren’t the right word for them. More like trenches. Trenches caused by years of use and neglect. You eyebrows begin to furrow as you try and predict when one of these trenches will puncture a hole in your tires and send your car veering out of control. Your mood worsens even more when you think of how the roads will be once it starts raining. The trenches become creeks and rivers, eventually forming an urban ecosystem. A delta full of trash and filth, creating a river that matches your memories of the pollution from those old Captain Planet TV shows that you used to watch as a child. A low growl escapes from your mouth when your car hits one of the trenches, causes your teeth to jar together. You curse the construction workers, knowing that they’re too scared to come and fix the roads, but at the same time you understand why they wouldn’t want to be stuck in a place like this.
You look up and see the ever prevalent gang signs starting to flow past your car. Red XIV’s and X4’s spray painted everywhere. You think they’re so fucking clever. Those Nortenos calling themselves N’s from the fourteenth letter of the alphabet. Romanize that fourteen and you get an XIV. Yeah they’re so fucking cute. You’re tired of seeing all these gang signs spray painted everywhere. You always see them, sprayed blatantly in the middle of fences, garages, and anything that could be branded with their mark. You’ve even seen someone driving down 10th street with XIV stamped right across their front wind shield.
You can’t do a damn thing about it either. There’s so many of them that getting rid of a few would just be pointless. You hate how the color of the signs stands out so much against whatever color its spray painted on. Bright red. Makes you feel like the neighborhood has been streaked in fresh blood. You think that they could have chosen a better color also. You hate how they represent red, a color you grew up on. A color you once thought was energetic and bold. You never used to associate red with blood, but now it’s the first thing that comes to mind when you see that color. Yet another strand of your childhood cut by the present.
You also know all the stories about people trying to remove the signs. You see freshly painted walls. Walls that used to be adorned with graffiti and red spray paint, now clean and new. You know that wall is going to be marked very soon. Another red XIV will soon appear there to replace its fallen comrades, but you know that this one will be a little different. Theres going to be a circle arount the X, and your trained eye knows what this means. You know that the X has now turned into a target. You think that the circled X looks just like an eye. Its watching the community even more carefully now, waiting for someone to make a mistake. The circle is a warning, telling the people not to mess with the N’s. You hate it when you see these community service organizations come into your neighborhood. Coming in with paint brushes and fake goodwill. Thinking that they’re helping out the community with some beautification project. You know they don’t feel any fear painting over gang signs because they don’t have to live here. They don’t have to face the consequences of their actions. They just soak up the rewards of their hard work, and go home and pat themselves on the back. You want to tell them that their actions are just going to make things worse. That they are just going to eventually cause more violence and more gang signs, but they’re not going to listen to you. You words would fall on ears too plugged up with good intentions to even respond to your reasoning. You know the stories of your neighbors because you live in these stories and you become a part of them. Houses near freshly painted walls soon become covered in yellow police tape. Its just a crime scene waiting to happen. A scene all to familiar to you.
Then you see the shoes. A pair of shoes tied together by the laces and flung over a telephone line. You used to think of this as nothing. Its just a practical joke that the kids must do just to have a quick laugh. Just mischievous innocence. Thinking of little kids giggling and running away fro their little terrorist act used to make you smile. It used to make you think that there was still a sliver of happiness in the world. You used to think this way until your son ruined everything. You remember it vividly. Your son and his group of rebels were lounging in your living room, invading your couch and TV. You were trying to be a good parent, and trying to ignore their conversation and their rehearsed to perfection ghetto accents. You stayed in your room just so that their voices would become muddled by the multiple layers of walls. You planned to lie on your bed all day and rest, but your stomach wouldn’t let you do that. It began growling, and as time went on, your kitchen started to sound more and more delicious. Slowly, you opened the door and stealthily walked into the kitchen, trying not to cause any noise, just so that your son wouldn’t think you were spying on him. You stood there in a kitchen, knife in hand, trying to make a sandwich, when their conversation suddenly struck you.
“Yeah man, them shoes are from that scrap the N’s jumped a few nights ago.”
“Aw shit no way. For reals man?”
“Yeah fool I ain’t lying. They threw them up there to show them bitch asses what’s up.”
“Damn man, those were some nice kicks though. Wish they gave em to me instead though.”
You stood there helpless as your thoughts of pure innocence were crushed by the N’s. You almost dropped your sandwich after hearing this, but you made it back to your room undetected. Seeing these shoes now evokes the same emotions that you felt back then. You feel helpless as they dangle above you, taunting you with their fake innocence. You slam on the gas pedal and avoid the rear view mirror, hoping that they’ll just fade away into the sky.
You finally make it out of the ghetto and roll into the city. There’s more colors here to look at and feel, but this isn’t your life. All you do here is go to work in a box that’s been affectionately labeled as a cubicle. Its walls are lined with pictures of your family. Pictures of a time when your smiles weren’t forced and your wife actually held your hand. You sit there for eight hours a day, pretending to do work and letting your computer burn holes in your retinas. You stare at the clock and wish for it to go faster and faster. That second hand always seems to be running a marathon that it’ll never complete. Finally, your day is done. Your car is waiting for you in the parking lot, looking as defeated as ever. You start the ignition and begin to head home.
You feel like the drive home is just everything you saw in the morning in reverse order. It’s like life is just rewinding over the worst parts of your life and playing them back over and over again. Same red XIV’s everywhere you look. Same shoes dangling above you, taunting you from their peak up above. Same house you return to every evening. You see that something is a little different today though. You see people gathered around your house from a distance, and you wonder what might be going on. Your mind starts to race a little. You start to wonder if something exciting is finally happening in your life. Maybe they’re throwing a party just for you. Maybe they’re all excitedly awaiting your return so you can all smile and be happy again. When you pull up closer though, you see that it’s just your son and his dumbass friends, playing around in front of your street. Your eyes grow as soon as you see what they’re doing. They’re playing 14 Killers. You fucking hate that game. You think it’s the stupidest game they could have thought of. You wish they could just play tag instead of this shitty variation of it. You see your sons friends pointing at each, hands shaped like guns. You can hear them yelling at each other. They’re running around, hiding behind cars and diving behind trash cans. The soccer ball you got them just so they wouldn’t play this game is sitting there, stuck up against the curb, still looking pretty new. You cuss to yourself in your car. God dammit, these fucking kids, I told them not to play that damn game. Playing that damn recruitment tool. Fucking little wannabe gangsters. You can’t stand watching them having fun while they’re fake killing each other.
You park your car in the driveway and they pretend not to notice you. You quickly get out your car and slam the door, and still not one of them even bothers to look at you. Must be too damn consumed in their game you think. Hey, you say, as you walk down the driveway. You don’t notice it, but your fists are clenched and your eyes are blazing. A few of the kids shoot a cautious glance in your direction. Hey, you say, what did I tell you kids about playing that game. They’re all looking up at you now. They’re staring at you as if you’re the one about to shoot them. You’ve got your fingers raised, pointing at them, lecturing them about how they shouldn’t be play killing each other. You’re starting to make a scene. Neighbors begin to peek out of their windows, trying to get a glimpse of the commotion. None of them come out and help you though. They all stay hidden in their homes, all too willing to let you do all the talking. You scream and you shout and you stomp. Finally, you hear it.
Hey, you hear, can you shut the hell up. You look around for the source, and you realize with shock, that it’s one of your sons friends. Its Dom, the outspoken ringleader. He’s stepped forward, that brave little bastard. Acting tough, just to impress his friends. Standing in front of you, dressed in clothes five years ahead of hi. Red shoes, red belt, red shirt. His arms are crossed, arms that are blank now but look like they’ll soon carry the script of the streets. And he’s staring at you, with his head cocked a little to the side. You hear his voice again, and its tone pisses you off. Hey, you hear, we can do what the fuck we want.
You don’t feel yourself moving forward. You just see Don’s figure growing steadily. You don’t see his eyes growing with fear. You don’t see that he’s actually scared, that his little act has gone away. He’s running away now, and his little gang is following him. You linger in the street for a little bit, staring at them running away as they become ants on the horizon. You walk inside your house and eat your dinner silently. You don’t look up at your wife, and you can’t tell if she’s looking at you or not. You know she knows what happened, but you can’t tell if she’s happy or sad. You don’t want to talk about it, not with her. Her being nice to you now wouldn’t make up for all those years of denial. You go straight to sleep after you finish eating, filled with victory.
The next morning, you walk into the kitchen and see all the familiarities of the morning. A cold breakfast, layed out on the table. Your wife sits there, and she doesn’t even give you a good morning glance. Your son is nowhere to be seen. Looks like he finally found that escape. You pick at your food and get up to leave. You walk outside to your car, and suddenly, the world stops. Your car is staring right back at you, red circle emblazed.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Short Story Writing - One Shot
He saw his prey from afar, and he could taste the excitement of a kill. His breathing intensified, and he could no longer control himself even after years of training. This always happened though, and this is why he loved the hunt. A pure feeling of instinct, no time to think, but just enough time to act. He felt his hands start to shake and he knew it was time to begin. He pulled back the bolt of his rifle and loaded in one bullet, because that's all he would need, and any further shots would be a waste of lead. He pushed the bolt forward and it clicked with glee at being given an opportunity to show off its skills.
The area was lined with a myriad of nature to disguise one self's movement. The overcast sky set the perfect backdrop for what was about to be done. He moved with a discreet swiftness, almost like smoke running away from a fire. Branches cracked beneath his feet as the forest of nature provided infinite paths to his prey.
One last tree and a field of bodies was all that stood between him and his target. He saw his prey, and smiled maliciously as he knew what was coming next. His prey was crouching beside a rock, as if it was trying to become stone itself. It's disguise wouldn't fool him though, because rocks didn't carry rifles. He crawled towards his stationary prey, through the bodies of many a fallen comrade. He could take him out from here, but no, that's too easy. The closer a kill, the more impact behind it. He moved slowly, slower than the air swirling above him. Even the dead would be impressed at his impersonation.
Finally, he thought, this was close enough. He slowly raised his gun and directed the sights right on his prey's head. He saw for the first time the face of his prey and saw it was dark, as if every shadow had gathered there. He knew it was time to act, and with one last breathe, he steadied his gun and felt the trigger. A loud snap pierced the sky, and his prey fell. His eyes grew and he felt a rush of warmth in his stomach. He hadn't pulled the trigger yet. He knew his prey hadn't shot because it was lying there, stationary as he was. He turned his head around and noticed another hunter, standing far away, soaking in all the glory that should have been his.
"God dammit ahhhhhh!!" he shouted, as he threw his controller on the couch. "That was my kill!"
He stared at his TV with a defeated look. He sat motionless, stationary, another dead body upon the suburban tundra.
Yay so my prompt this time was a very open one. I was basically supposed to write a story from a 3rd person perspective. No idea how this story came to be. Just thinking of Call of Duty probably. I actually kinda like parts of this one though. I wrote it in less than an hour so I think its pretty good for that amount of time. Cheers :)
The area was lined with a myriad of nature to disguise one self's movement. The overcast sky set the perfect backdrop for what was about to be done. He moved with a discreet swiftness, almost like smoke running away from a fire. Branches cracked beneath his feet as the forest of nature provided infinite paths to his prey.
One last tree and a field of bodies was all that stood between him and his target. He saw his prey, and smiled maliciously as he knew what was coming next. His prey was crouching beside a rock, as if it was trying to become stone itself. It's disguise wouldn't fool him though, because rocks didn't carry rifles. He crawled towards his stationary prey, through the bodies of many a fallen comrade. He could take him out from here, but no, that's too easy. The closer a kill, the more impact behind it. He moved slowly, slower than the air swirling above him. Even the dead would be impressed at his impersonation.
Finally, he thought, this was close enough. He slowly raised his gun and directed the sights right on his prey's head. He saw for the first time the face of his prey and saw it was dark, as if every shadow had gathered there. He knew it was time to act, and with one last breathe, he steadied his gun and felt the trigger. A loud snap pierced the sky, and his prey fell. His eyes grew and he felt a rush of warmth in his stomach. He hadn't pulled the trigger yet. He knew his prey hadn't shot because it was lying there, stationary as he was. He turned his head around and noticed another hunter, standing far away, soaking in all the glory that should have been his.
"God dammit ahhhhhh!!" he shouted, as he threw his controller on the couch. "That was my kill!"
He stared at his TV with a defeated look. He sat motionless, stationary, another dead body upon the suburban tundra.
Yay so my prompt this time was a very open one. I was basically supposed to write a story from a 3rd person perspective. No idea how this story came to be. Just thinking of Call of Duty probably. I actually kinda like parts of this one though. I wrote it in less than an hour so I think its pretty good for that amount of time. Cheers :)
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Short Story Writing - Plaid Shirts and Neon Kicks
The party was alive and well. Everyone felt warm and the world was spinning in all the right ways. Dim lights and a slight haze from cigarette smoke set an atmosphere of lust and sin. The room smelled a little like a skunk, but nobody complained, and some even said they thought it smelled good. Music meant that nobody was standing still, and nobody was a lonely dancer in the room. Bodies were pressed against one another without any fear of invading someones personal space.
CJ walked into the room and felt like he was at home. Already faded from smoking with his friends before, he smelled the smoke of the room and smirked. A quick shout across the room to his friends and a beer bottle in hand was all he needed to slip into the party. CJ walked through the room as if he was Jesus walking on water. He knew he was the unique one at this party, nobody else had the same colored plaid shirt as him. It came from the expensive section of Forever 21, and he knew none of the people at this party could afford it cept for him. Nobody looked as good as he did in his thick, black framed glasses or his neon purple and baby blue hat, cocked ever so slightly upon the top of his head. He was most proud of his shoes though, his limited edition Nike Dunks that color coordinated exactly with his hat and shirt. He liked to tuck his pants into his shoes to make them pop out more, and tonight was no exception. Yeah, he knew nobody in here could match how good he looked, and he carried himself with a swag, with his head held high and that ever present slight smile on his face.
The room was dark, but CJ saw something that grabbed his attention across the room. He couldn't see her face, but her little black dress caught her curves in a way that beckoned a second look. She's the kind of girl that needed more investigating, and CJ knew the best way to do that was to go say whats up. There was a crowd in between the two of them, but all CJ saw was the reward at the end of the tunnel. He grazed his chin with his thumb, put on his best smile, and started to stroll towards the mysterious girl. The crowd wouldn't let him through so easily though, and strangers were constantly bumping and rubbing, but he wouldn't let his goal slip out of reach. He was focused so much on his goal that he didn't notice the bottle of beer in his hand start to slip.
"Hey man, the fuck you doing?"
CJ was broken out of his trance. "What?" was all he was able to get out.
"You spilled beer all up on my shoes. Look, you still spilling."
"Ah my bad bro." CJ patted the guy on his shoulder and started to look for the girl again.
"Naw it ain't 'my bad bro'. You don't fucking understand. These are my new kicks."
"Seriously man, my bad." CJ started to walk away from the guy for good.
"Aw hell naw you is not trying to walk away from me. You trying to get your ass kicked huh? I'ma put your ass to shame."
CJ felt himself being spun around. He didn't have time to react. There wasn't a reflex to dodge. All that was left was a look of emptiness on a face that couldn't stop smiling.
Yay so my prompt for this one was to do a dialog between two people that escalates into a dispute. Mine didn't really escalate but oh wells. I wanted someone to get punched, so I just thought of the group of people that deserves it most. So yeah hope you enjoy.
CJ walked into the room and felt like he was at home. Already faded from smoking with his friends before, he smelled the smoke of the room and smirked. A quick shout across the room to his friends and a beer bottle in hand was all he needed to slip into the party. CJ walked through the room as if he was Jesus walking on water. He knew he was the unique one at this party, nobody else had the same colored plaid shirt as him. It came from the expensive section of Forever 21, and he knew none of the people at this party could afford it cept for him. Nobody looked as good as he did in his thick, black framed glasses or his neon purple and baby blue hat, cocked ever so slightly upon the top of his head. He was most proud of his shoes though, his limited edition Nike Dunks that color coordinated exactly with his hat and shirt. He liked to tuck his pants into his shoes to make them pop out more, and tonight was no exception. Yeah, he knew nobody in here could match how good he looked, and he carried himself with a swag, with his head held high and that ever present slight smile on his face.
The room was dark, but CJ saw something that grabbed his attention across the room. He couldn't see her face, but her little black dress caught her curves in a way that beckoned a second look. She's the kind of girl that needed more investigating, and CJ knew the best way to do that was to go say whats up. There was a crowd in between the two of them, but all CJ saw was the reward at the end of the tunnel. He grazed his chin with his thumb, put on his best smile, and started to stroll towards the mysterious girl. The crowd wouldn't let him through so easily though, and strangers were constantly bumping and rubbing, but he wouldn't let his goal slip out of reach. He was focused so much on his goal that he didn't notice the bottle of beer in his hand start to slip.
"Hey man, the fuck you doing?"
CJ was broken out of his trance. "What?" was all he was able to get out.
"You spilled beer all up on my shoes. Look, you still spilling."
"Ah my bad bro." CJ patted the guy on his shoulder and started to look for the girl again.
"Naw it ain't 'my bad bro'. You don't fucking understand. These are my new kicks."
"Seriously man, my bad." CJ started to walk away from the guy for good.
"Aw hell naw you is not trying to walk away from me. You trying to get your ass kicked huh? I'ma put your ass to shame."
CJ felt himself being spun around. He didn't have time to react. There wasn't a reflex to dodge. All that was left was a look of emptiness on a face that couldn't stop smiling.
Yay so my prompt for this one was to do a dialog between two people that escalates into a dispute. Mine didn't really escalate but oh wells. I wanted someone to get punched, so I just thought of the group of people that deserves it most. So yeah hope you enjoy.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Short Story Writing - Time to Sleep
Time to Sleep
Finally, I have some time to myself. I can slip into bed without any worries of being bothered by someone. For only the second time today, with the first time being waking up this morning, I am truly alone.
Throughout the day, I am never alone. Even on the drive to work, I don't consider myself to be alone, even though its only me in the car. I consider cars to be extensions of people, so if I'm stuck in a traffic jam, I consider myself to not be surrounded by cars, but by people, and slow moving ones at that. I don't consider houses to be extensions of people though, just in case you were wondering. Houses don't move, so they're not really much of a disturbance to me.
My job isn't an escape from people either. In fact, it forces me to talk to people. Being a telemarketer isn't exactly a job for the anti-social. First off, I'm stuck in a room full of noises that people make. There's the constant droning noise that everyones combined voices make. Then theres the shuffling of papers, the crunch of a stapler, booming footsteps of an overweight co-worker walking by. And then theres the phone calls that we are obligated to make. Ive memorized the script that we have to say to people when we call them. It goes something like, "Hi I'm a representative from Telecom Marketing Agencies and I wanted to let you know about our exciting new products that we have to offer you today", although I usually don't get past the first few words without hearing a click, and then dial tone. Nobody is ever nice to a telemarketer. Nobody ever says hi back to me, or asks me how my day is. Instead they just hate me, even though I'm a stranger, one that they'll never care to get to know. I've realized that this unnecessary hatred is the reason why I don't like other people. Other people don't like me and will never care to know me, so why should I like other people?
But enough about my job. I think enough about that purgatory while I'm there. I don't need to be thinking about other people while I lie in bed before I sleep. I just need to focus on the silence. Yes the beautiful silence before falling asleep. Its so comforting.
Crash
Dammit that sounded alot like glass being broken. Now I hear footsteps. Is this a person? A person breaking my moment of solitude? Why can't these people just leave me alone? Sorry, but I can't take this anymore. Ok good, the baseball bat underneath my bed is still there. Luckily I sleep with my door open so I can easily slip out unnoticed. My bare feet don't make any sound against the floor as I walk smoothly towards the muffled sounds coming from my living room.
I see you, but you're too busy searching for something to notice me behind you. The moonlight shining in from my broken window make it easy to see your silhouette. I don't even hesitate with the swing of my bat. Just one motion, and I'm alone again. Finally, I can get some sleep.
Ok so with this one, my prompt was to write in 1st person about someone with their house being broken into. I don't think I did a very good job of it, mostly because I only had a few hours to write this haha. Oh wells though
Finally, I have some time to myself. I can slip into bed without any worries of being bothered by someone. For only the second time today, with the first time being waking up this morning, I am truly alone.
Throughout the day, I am never alone. Even on the drive to work, I don't consider myself to be alone, even though its only me in the car. I consider cars to be extensions of people, so if I'm stuck in a traffic jam, I consider myself to not be surrounded by cars, but by people, and slow moving ones at that. I don't consider houses to be extensions of people though, just in case you were wondering. Houses don't move, so they're not really much of a disturbance to me.
My job isn't an escape from people either. In fact, it forces me to talk to people. Being a telemarketer isn't exactly a job for the anti-social. First off, I'm stuck in a room full of noises that people make. There's the constant droning noise that everyones combined voices make. Then theres the shuffling of papers, the crunch of a stapler, booming footsteps of an overweight co-worker walking by. And then theres the phone calls that we are obligated to make. Ive memorized the script that we have to say to people when we call them. It goes something like, "Hi I'm a representative from Telecom Marketing Agencies and I wanted to let you know about our exciting new products that we have to offer you today", although I usually don't get past the first few words without hearing a click, and then dial tone. Nobody is ever nice to a telemarketer. Nobody ever says hi back to me, or asks me how my day is. Instead they just hate me, even though I'm a stranger, one that they'll never care to get to know. I've realized that this unnecessary hatred is the reason why I don't like other people. Other people don't like me and will never care to know me, so why should I like other people?
But enough about my job. I think enough about that purgatory while I'm there. I don't need to be thinking about other people while I lie in bed before I sleep. I just need to focus on the silence. Yes the beautiful silence before falling asleep. Its so comforting.
Crash
Dammit that sounded alot like glass being broken. Now I hear footsteps. Is this a person? A person breaking my moment of solitude? Why can't these people just leave me alone? Sorry, but I can't take this anymore. Ok good, the baseball bat underneath my bed is still there. Luckily I sleep with my door open so I can easily slip out unnoticed. My bare feet don't make any sound against the floor as I walk smoothly towards the muffled sounds coming from my living room.
I see you, but you're too busy searching for something to notice me behind you. The moonlight shining in from my broken window make it easy to see your silhouette. I don't even hesitate with the swing of my bat. Just one motion, and I'm alone again. Finally, I can get some sleep.
Ok so with this one, my prompt was to write in 1st person about someone with their house being broken into. I don't think I did a very good job of it, mostly because I only had a few hours to write this haha. Oh wells though
Monday, January 18, 2010
Short Story Writing - Finding Emo
Finding Me
It's always lonely. Nothing but eternal darkness in all directions, black as the night sky, but without the stars to guide the way. They say the desert is an empty landscape, but at least you have all your senses intact there. Down here in the ocean bottom, you're lucky to sense anything at all.
Water, cold and omnipresent, that blocks out every feeling and every stimulation one would want. Warmth is nonexistent here, the suns rays can never find their way down to me. The only color here is black. Even when I look upwards towards the sun, or at least when I think I'm looking upwards, (you can never really tell which direction you're facing when you're surrounded by nothing), I can never see it. Nothing to taste but the saltiness of the sea, nothing to hear but the noises emptiness makes. Even my lantern does nothing more than let me know that my eyes are actually open, that I'm actually still alive down here. All there is to do is wait, floating, trying not to think about how alone it is down here.
I'm jealous of all the creatures up above, and theres nothing to do about it. My blood flows green through my body, the only other color I know personally. At first, curiosity guided me through these depths, hoping there was more to this place than darkness. Back then, my lantern would guide me along the ocean floor. Usually, all I would find would be the skeletons of my brethren, picked clean by the scavengers, but at times, I'd find something different from up above that somehow made its way down here unscathed. A shiny hook that reflected the light of my lantern in every way. A patch of sewn string, like a web. Discoveries like these gave me reason to believe that there was more to this world than the darkness all around.
Now though, all that curiosity has turned to anger and contempt. Years and years of emptiness had dissolved all the curiosity of my younger days, and now I hated everything that had to do with the world above. Thats why when I saw you, I exploded. You two found me, attracted by my lantern, as all other creatures down here do. You were different though. Both of you had a color and personality, something that nothing else down here had. A bolt of orange and white, looking desperate as if you too were searching for something. A streak of blue, carefree in an area that would scare most. I knew it once I saw you two, that you were both from up above, and something inside me snapped. Who knew that something that you had once longed for so much could create such an anger. If we had met just a few years prior, we could have been friends and I would have had an endless supply of questions for you, but now I didn't care. I wanted you out of my life and fast. I wanted you to go back up to your world filled with light and leave me to myself. You never cared about me all those years, so why should I have any feelings of hospitality towards you now? I chased you through the ocean, fueled by an uncontrollable rage that wouldn't subside.
You were able to escape though, as I became entangled in something from up above. For a second, as I floated there, unable to move, our eyes caught one another's, and I felt the guilt grow within me. A voice within me told me, "You just wasted your one chance at having a friend." You eventually left, a fearful expression on your face that said you'd never come down here again. Now I float on through this darkness, trying not to think, but thinking only of regret.
Alright well theres my short story. If you haven't guessed it already, it's about the Angler fish (the one with the big teeth and the little light) from Finding Nemo. My prompt was to write about a character that was deprived of a sense, and I struggled for awhile trying to think of just one sense to be deprived of. So I decided to find a character that was deprived of most if not all senses and this is what came to mind. I got lazy towards the end though, so its not as good as I think it could be, but this story is due tomorrow so oh wells. Kks thanks for reading.
(if youre tagged then i think you'll either enjoy reading this or be able to give me some criticism on what i could do better)
It's always lonely. Nothing but eternal darkness in all directions, black as the night sky, but without the stars to guide the way. They say the desert is an empty landscape, but at least you have all your senses intact there. Down here in the ocean bottom, you're lucky to sense anything at all.
Water, cold and omnipresent, that blocks out every feeling and every stimulation one would want. Warmth is nonexistent here, the suns rays can never find their way down to me. The only color here is black. Even when I look upwards towards the sun, or at least when I think I'm looking upwards, (you can never really tell which direction you're facing when you're surrounded by nothing), I can never see it. Nothing to taste but the saltiness of the sea, nothing to hear but the noises emptiness makes. Even my lantern does nothing more than let me know that my eyes are actually open, that I'm actually still alive down here. All there is to do is wait, floating, trying not to think about how alone it is down here.
I'm jealous of all the creatures up above, and theres nothing to do about it. My blood flows green through my body, the only other color I know personally. At first, curiosity guided me through these depths, hoping there was more to this place than darkness. Back then, my lantern would guide me along the ocean floor. Usually, all I would find would be the skeletons of my brethren, picked clean by the scavengers, but at times, I'd find something different from up above that somehow made its way down here unscathed. A shiny hook that reflected the light of my lantern in every way. A patch of sewn string, like a web. Discoveries like these gave me reason to believe that there was more to this world than the darkness all around.
Now though, all that curiosity has turned to anger and contempt. Years and years of emptiness had dissolved all the curiosity of my younger days, and now I hated everything that had to do with the world above. Thats why when I saw you, I exploded. You two found me, attracted by my lantern, as all other creatures down here do. You were different though. Both of you had a color and personality, something that nothing else down here had. A bolt of orange and white, looking desperate as if you too were searching for something. A streak of blue, carefree in an area that would scare most. I knew it once I saw you two, that you were both from up above, and something inside me snapped. Who knew that something that you had once longed for so much could create such an anger. If we had met just a few years prior, we could have been friends and I would have had an endless supply of questions for you, but now I didn't care. I wanted you out of my life and fast. I wanted you to go back up to your world filled with light and leave me to myself. You never cared about me all those years, so why should I have any feelings of hospitality towards you now? I chased you through the ocean, fueled by an uncontrollable rage that wouldn't subside.
You were able to escape though, as I became entangled in something from up above. For a second, as I floated there, unable to move, our eyes caught one another's, and I felt the guilt grow within me. A voice within me told me, "You just wasted your one chance at having a friend." You eventually left, a fearful expression on your face that said you'd never come down here again. Now I float on through this darkness, trying not to think, but thinking only of regret.
Alright well theres my short story. If you haven't guessed it already, it's about the Angler fish (the one with the big teeth and the little light) from Finding Nemo. My prompt was to write about a character that was deprived of a sense, and I struggled for awhile trying to think of just one sense to be deprived of. So I decided to find a character that was deprived of most if not all senses and this is what came to mind. I got lazy towards the end though, so its not as good as I think it could be, but this story is due tomorrow so oh wells. Kks thanks for reading.
(if youre tagged then i think you'll either enjoy reading this or be able to give me some criticism on what i could do better)
Monday, January 4, 2010
Short Story Writing - Three Points of a Triangle
I'm taking a creative writing class this quarter, so I'm going to use my blog to share some of the stories that I'm assigned to write. So my first assignment is to write a bad story, which seems pretty easy, but its actually kind of hard since I'll be doing everything that goes against what I consider to be good writing. Lets see how well this goes.
Three Points of a Triangle
Lying straight back on my bed, staring at my pale, white ceiling, counting the seconds slowly going by, like a pendulum moving ever slowly. Summer days never really lose their laziness, and today is no exception. The summer heat was able to walk into my room about as easily as my mother telling me to be productive and not to waste another day of my youth. Movement is always an option, one not really worth choosing at the moment. I carefully opened my brown eyes and scanned my room, searching for something that might hold my interest. I noticed no movement at all, except for my fish, gently floating in casual circles around its clear, glass bowl, with about as much care for the world as a rock. My fish is a mysterious one, ever observing the world from its perch upon my desk. One probably would have though my fish was dead, but people would probably think the same of me if they saw me at that very moment. I started to feel envious of my fish, not because of its apathy towards the world, but because I knew that the water in the bowl was the coldest item in my vicinity. It seems like my summer days have turned into me wishing I was a fish just so I could be in some water that would cool me down like sticking my head out of a car on the freeway.
In an effort to actually make something out of this hot and miserable day, I choose to do something that I could do without moving from my inclined position. At this moment, for me this was a quest much like crossing the Sahara Desert, I arose from my bed and I journeyed over to the corner of my room where my guitar was laid out on the floor, much like I had been on my bed just a few moments before. I felt a little bad for disturbing my guitars rest, because it obviously wasn't going to be doing much that day other than lie there if not for my bold intervention.
I picked up my guitar and sat on my bed. I observed my guitar for a few seconds before playing it, almost as if I was having a silent conversation with her, asking if its alright if I could pluck her strings and make beautiful music. Her body was black as nighttime, and her strings were golden like the suns rays. With a few gentle strokes on her hair like strings, me and her began making sweet music upon my bed. The sound broke the silence of the room like a hammer breaking a mirror and having all the glass shards falling on the floor, crashing in an endless symphony of reflections. There was nothing like playing a slow and sweet sounding song for a day that longed for nothing more than that. Even my fish seemed to respond to the broken silence; slowly swimming to the front of the bowl to face me, as if I was some sort of entertainment for him to watch.
Slower and softer became the sounds of my guitar, and I found myself drifting away into the realm of dreams. My dreams usually started in darkness, and today was no different. Eventually, the darkness faded away, only to leave me in my room, with a strange figure walking towards me. I stared in mystery and shock, as this figure turned into a girl dressed all in black. She sat down on the bed beside me, and laid across my lap, softly smiling. I ran my fingers through her golden hair and she sang out to me with a sweet yet calm voice. I stared into her eyes for a second, and suddenly had the feeling that we were not alone. I glanced up and noticed a mysterious looking boy sitting on my desk, staring right back at me with with a calm look upon his face. He nodded at me as if giving me his approval, and I could do nothing but grin back at him. The three of us together in harmony with one another, like the corners of a triangle keeping each other company.
I awoke to the sound of my mother calling out my name for dinner. I gently removed my guitar from my grasp and placed her on my bed, with a farewell pluck of one golden string. I walked over to my fish, stared at him for a second, and dropped in a tiny little pellet of food for him to eat. He stared back at me for a second, and then rushed to the food and ate it in one swift movement. I started out the door, and paused for a second, and glanced back at my guitar and my fish. I smiled ever so slightly, knowing that even though these summer days go by slowly, I'd never be alone through them.
Ok end of my bad short story. I might actually revise this one into a good short story because I kinda like the idea behind it haha.
Three Points of a Triangle
Lying straight back on my bed, staring at my pale, white ceiling, counting the seconds slowly going by, like a pendulum moving ever slowly. Summer days never really lose their laziness, and today is no exception. The summer heat was able to walk into my room about as easily as my mother telling me to be productive and not to waste another day of my youth. Movement is always an option, one not really worth choosing at the moment. I carefully opened my brown eyes and scanned my room, searching for something that might hold my interest. I noticed no movement at all, except for my fish, gently floating in casual circles around its clear, glass bowl, with about as much care for the world as a rock. My fish is a mysterious one, ever observing the world from its perch upon my desk. One probably would have though my fish was dead, but people would probably think the same of me if they saw me at that very moment. I started to feel envious of my fish, not because of its apathy towards the world, but because I knew that the water in the bowl was the coldest item in my vicinity. It seems like my summer days have turned into me wishing I was a fish just so I could be in some water that would cool me down like sticking my head out of a car on the freeway.
In an effort to actually make something out of this hot and miserable day, I choose to do something that I could do without moving from my inclined position. At this moment, for me this was a quest much like crossing the Sahara Desert, I arose from my bed and I journeyed over to the corner of my room where my guitar was laid out on the floor, much like I had been on my bed just a few moments before. I felt a little bad for disturbing my guitars rest, because it obviously wasn't going to be doing much that day other than lie there if not for my bold intervention.
I picked up my guitar and sat on my bed. I observed my guitar for a few seconds before playing it, almost as if I was having a silent conversation with her, asking if its alright if I could pluck her strings and make beautiful music. Her body was black as nighttime, and her strings were golden like the suns rays. With a few gentle strokes on her hair like strings, me and her began making sweet music upon my bed. The sound broke the silence of the room like a hammer breaking a mirror and having all the glass shards falling on the floor, crashing in an endless symphony of reflections. There was nothing like playing a slow and sweet sounding song for a day that longed for nothing more than that. Even my fish seemed to respond to the broken silence; slowly swimming to the front of the bowl to face me, as if I was some sort of entertainment for him to watch.
Slower and softer became the sounds of my guitar, and I found myself drifting away into the realm of dreams. My dreams usually started in darkness, and today was no different. Eventually, the darkness faded away, only to leave me in my room, with a strange figure walking towards me. I stared in mystery and shock, as this figure turned into a girl dressed all in black. She sat down on the bed beside me, and laid across my lap, softly smiling. I ran my fingers through her golden hair and she sang out to me with a sweet yet calm voice. I stared into her eyes for a second, and suddenly had the feeling that we were not alone. I glanced up and noticed a mysterious looking boy sitting on my desk, staring right back at me with with a calm look upon his face. He nodded at me as if giving me his approval, and I could do nothing but grin back at him. The three of us together in harmony with one another, like the corners of a triangle keeping each other company.
I awoke to the sound of my mother calling out my name for dinner. I gently removed my guitar from my grasp and placed her on my bed, with a farewell pluck of one golden string. I walked over to my fish, stared at him for a second, and dropped in a tiny little pellet of food for him to eat. He stared back at me for a second, and then rushed to the food and ate it in one swift movement. I started out the door, and paused for a second, and glanced back at my guitar and my fish. I smiled ever so slightly, knowing that even though these summer days go by slowly, I'd never be alone through them.
Ok end of my bad short story. I might actually revise this one into a good short story because I kinda like the idea behind it haha.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Needs Moar Blogging
Its been far too long since I've made a blog post hasn't it. I seriously don't even remember the last post that I did. Probably some bs survey thing from myspace or facebook. Oh wells though, I'm not gonna make any excuses about it this time, I was just too lazy to post. But at least I'm posting up right now ya know. Guess I'm just in a posting mood.
So lets start off with just a quick few updates on whats been happening this school year. School has been alright this year. I started off with 22 units, but I ended up dropping two of my classes because it was just too much, so now I'm down to 14. I dropped Tagalog and Research in CRJA cause it was just too much classes and I wouldn't have had any free time at all if I had taken them. Especially tagalog class. I felt so stupid in that class because everyone else already knew how to speak tagalog, and I didn't, so I felt like the class needed subtitles for me to understand anything. We were like 2 weeks into it and I didn't know a word of tagalog so I was like, yeahhhh screw this. And I dropped the Research class cause it was just way too much. The teacher wanted like a 5 page essay every week and stuff like that. Just way too much work for one class. I'll probably have to end up taking it later on anyways, but I'll take it at a time when I have easier classes haha.
As for the classes I kept, I'm pretty happy with them and I'm not doing that bad in them either. My Thursdays and Fridays are a complete waste though. Thursday I only have badminton and ping pong and friday I have no class at all, so its kinda pointless for me to even go to school on those days. On the rest of the days though, I got my core CRJA (criminal justice adminstration) classes, and those are going just fine. I've been having the weirdest luck with my midterms in those classes. For my Theory class and my Corrections class, I have the same teacher, and supposedly the Theory class is supposed to be super hardcore and like, almost impossible to pass, whereas my Corrections class is supposed to be like, an easy A. I ended up getting the same damn grade on both midterms in those classes. At least it was a passing grade though! Yay for Sean!!! Also, for my other CRJA class, my Victim one, I got so pissed off at my teacher because of her midterm. She was making it out to be an extremely hard test and we needed to memorize all these different powerpoints and slides, so I was kinda scared and for the first time in awhile, I actually hardcore studied for it. Then when the test actually came, it was a 50 question true false exam, and 48/50 of them were false. The entire class was twitching during the exam. "Oh god *twitch* why are there 10 falses in a row *twitch*". And our teacher just stood at the front of them room, arms crossed, smiling ever so slightly. That bitch.
So if you didn't know, I'm living with 4 of the most awesome girls ever haha. Each one of them has their own special thing that makes living with them fun haha. Other than them being just really cool and fun to hang out with in general, they all do something that makes life more interesting. Anne is just purely hilarious with everything shes done, from scissor attacks to laundry mishaps. Mary has the best sound effects and the best laugh in the world, and shes also the funnest person to play video games with haha. Same with Cat haha. Hardcore fighting gamer there. Also Cat's just the most down to earth one in the house, yet shes still the craziest partier haha. Who knows how that works =p. And Shirley, since I know you're gonna read this, you piss me off! But in a good way :). You're actually like a few feet away from me right now as I'm typing this. You're all curled up in your little blanket burrito. I think I can poke your multicolored toes if I wanted to haha. All of you guys are way to fun to not live with, so yay for our house haha.
Also, the house itself is pretty damn kickass. I got the best room in the house haha, biggest one with a fireplace in it. I still needa upload some pictures to facebook so you guys can see the artwork on my walls. Also, the location of our house is totally awesome yo. We live so close to some cool parks and we live close to Union Landing so everything we could ever possibly need is right here at our fingertips. I could WALK to Jollibee if I wanted to. Why yes. I do live in heaven.
And heyyy lets talk AphiO now. Wooooo thats always an interesting subject to talk about haha. Well first off, I have the newest addition into my line yayyyyyyy Dory. You're totally awesome and I'm sure you'll continue being awesome and I couldn't be happier with you so yay haha. The rest of the pledges are really cool also; they've all got pretty cool personalities and I can't wait to get to know the rest of them haha. Being Fellowship again is kinda like a mixed bag. Some stuff goes pretty well and others go pretty bad haha. Its fun though, sometimes =p. Same goes with the PR stuffs. Oh wells though thats kinda like AphiO in general. Its mostly fun with just a few bumps haha.
And with my personal life, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I'm just going along with the flow of life. And I could pretty much leave it at that haha.
Wells, hopefully there will be many more posts to follow this one. I'm actually working on one that isn't about my life, and is actually designed to make fun of a certain group in our society, so watch for that one. But yeah if you read this then thanks :). Hope you liked it?
So lets start off with just a quick few updates on whats been happening this school year. School has been alright this year. I started off with 22 units, but I ended up dropping two of my classes because it was just too much, so now I'm down to 14. I dropped Tagalog and Research in CRJA cause it was just too much classes and I wouldn't have had any free time at all if I had taken them. Especially tagalog class. I felt so stupid in that class because everyone else already knew how to speak tagalog, and I didn't, so I felt like the class needed subtitles for me to understand anything. We were like 2 weeks into it and I didn't know a word of tagalog so I was like, yeahhhh screw this. And I dropped the Research class cause it was just way too much. The teacher wanted like a 5 page essay every week and stuff like that. Just way too much work for one class. I'll probably have to end up taking it later on anyways, but I'll take it at a time when I have easier classes haha.
As for the classes I kept, I'm pretty happy with them and I'm not doing that bad in them either. My Thursdays and Fridays are a complete waste though. Thursday I only have badminton and ping pong and friday I have no class at all, so its kinda pointless for me to even go to school on those days. On the rest of the days though, I got my core CRJA (criminal justice adminstration) classes, and those are going just fine. I've been having the weirdest luck with my midterms in those classes. For my Theory class and my Corrections class, I have the same teacher, and supposedly the Theory class is supposed to be super hardcore and like, almost impossible to pass, whereas my Corrections class is supposed to be like, an easy A. I ended up getting the same damn grade on both midterms in those classes. At least it was a passing grade though! Yay for Sean!!! Also, for my other CRJA class, my Victim one, I got so pissed off at my teacher because of her midterm. She was making it out to be an extremely hard test and we needed to memorize all these different powerpoints and slides, so I was kinda scared and for the first time in awhile, I actually hardcore studied for it. Then when the test actually came, it was a 50 question true false exam, and 48/50 of them were false. The entire class was twitching during the exam. "Oh god *twitch* why are there 10 falses in a row *twitch*". And our teacher just stood at the front of them room, arms crossed, smiling ever so slightly. That bitch.
So if you didn't know, I'm living with 4 of the most awesome girls ever haha. Each one of them has their own special thing that makes living with them fun haha. Other than them being just really cool and fun to hang out with in general, they all do something that makes life more interesting. Anne is just purely hilarious with everything shes done, from scissor attacks to laundry mishaps. Mary has the best sound effects and the best laugh in the world, and shes also the funnest person to play video games with haha. Same with Cat haha. Hardcore fighting gamer there. Also Cat's just the most down to earth one in the house, yet shes still the craziest partier haha. Who knows how that works =p. And Shirley, since I know you're gonna read this, you piss me off! But in a good way :). You're actually like a few feet away from me right now as I'm typing this. You're all curled up in your little blanket burrito. I think I can poke your multicolored toes if I wanted to haha. All of you guys are way to fun to not live with, so yay for our house haha.
Also, the house itself is pretty damn kickass. I got the best room in the house haha, biggest one with a fireplace in it. I still needa upload some pictures to facebook so you guys can see the artwork on my walls. Also, the location of our house is totally awesome yo. We live so close to some cool parks and we live close to Union Landing so everything we could ever possibly need is right here at our fingertips. I could WALK to Jollibee if I wanted to. Why yes. I do live in heaven.
And heyyy lets talk AphiO now. Wooooo thats always an interesting subject to talk about haha. Well first off, I have the newest addition into my line yayyyyyyy Dory. You're totally awesome and I'm sure you'll continue being awesome and I couldn't be happier with you so yay haha. The rest of the pledges are really cool also; they've all got pretty cool personalities and I can't wait to get to know the rest of them haha. Being Fellowship again is kinda like a mixed bag. Some stuff goes pretty well and others go pretty bad haha. Its fun though, sometimes =p. Same goes with the PR stuffs. Oh wells though thats kinda like AphiO in general. Its mostly fun with just a few bumps haha.
And with my personal life, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I'm just going along with the flow of life. And I could pretty much leave it at that haha.
Wells, hopefully there will be many more posts to follow this one. I'm actually working on one that isn't about my life, and is actually designed to make fun of a certain group in our society, so watch for that one. But yeah if you read this then thanks :). Hope you liked it?
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