It's such an insult to have such a beautiful weekly prompts page and have it be so naked.
Me and Jon are alternating topics every week and writing. Get in on it at
http://weeklypromptsoverlook.blogspot.com/2011/03/hey-were-actually-doing-this-now-so.html
Go now! Gogogo!
-Derrick
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Sunday, October 24, 2010
The World Through (Merged)
Re-post from my secret Tumblr that only 2 people on her know about
Its okay, the shit's weak anyways, so I'll just post the good content here!
Its okay, the shit's weak anyways, so I'll just post the good content here!
The world through my eyes hadn’t changed much since the reanimation of corpses. Capitalism still reigned, with food being the new essential rather than money. Sex still sold though, definitely as it has and will over civilizations for millenniums to come. The only problem other than that was the undead. Several factors played into their existence, first being their hunger. At first populating themselves by biting to the point of spreading the plague, they find that they no longer have the luxury. Instead, when one of the luckier ones does find a human pray, they end up devouring them to the bone with a malnourished savagery. This in turn is making them a dying breed. While this may be beneficial to the humans, it also tends to be problematic. While we started building our civilizations again, we started realizing the decrease of infected parties invading our grounds. This fearfully made us question whether or not the virus was dying completely or if they were just hiding a lot easier the bigger the cities became.
And that’s where we start. In the slums of New Haven, the new purgatory between hell and humanity where those rich of food and prostitutes flaunted it with armored trucks and armed guards covering them while the normal people scurried to find the last few canned goods left. I myself lived in the alleyways, the backstreets, and the dirty sidewalks in the city where the undead might hide. While paranoia is a constant fear in my heart, I also must deal with the constant pain in my stomach of longing for a meal. Today, a fourth hole had to be cut on my belt in order to get it to hold my pants up. Without government aid, people like me where known to disappear often for unknown reason, but usually in pursuit of something better. I myself don’t see anything else to compensate with other than what I have before me.
In order to live, my daily rounds usually consisted of begging; not receiving, then picking up what little of people’s scraps people left. At a age, only 17, I was at an odd place where I was not perceived fully a man by society, but was not boyish enough to obtain sympathy. Many nights I spent cold, hungry and sunken in both defeat and shame to how low I had become, my lack of morale to become a go-getter when it came to surviving, and the shape I had gotten in. Things wouldn’t look up for me until I met The Scientist.
It was a peculiar manner the way we met, I was crossing the outskirts of the town, considering leaving, when I found an old Victorian looking mansion. Almost in disbelief, I moved closer to discover squirming in a bush.
“Don’t move any closer, he’s got a rifle.” A voice that I couldn’t trace said. I froze in my tracks.
“Your pockets. Empty them.” The gruff voice ordered and soon my pockets were inside out, showing him I had nothing.
“Alright, come here.”
I approached, finding the voice could be followed to the front door of the mansion.
“You look thin” He said?
“You can see me?” I questioned.
“Of course, I could see you though the peephole.”
That’s when I realized the world through that peephole must have been so soothing. So stable and luxurious, at least for this day and age.
“Do you have room in there?” I asked.
“Of course I do.”
“I?” I clarified.
“Yes. I’m alone, other than my guard there.” He pointed at the bush.
“Well… could I get a room in there.”
He laughed and there was a pause.
“What are you willing to do?”
“Just about anything?”
“How about killing?”
There was a pause, my judgment began kicking in.
“Would it make you feel better if I assure you that they’ve already died once?”
That changed everything.
“I’d need equipment…”
And soon, there was The Scientist, instructing me to kill a female infected and bring her hand to him. From the top window, he threw down a small pistol, a hacksaw, and a garbage bag. I stalked the night, bag tucked away in my back pocket with the hacksaw and pistol in my front pocket, waiting to find one. As I’ve mentioned before, it was very hard trying to locate one of the Reanimated with without them getting their heads blown off, so I stayed in the most dangerous part of the New Haven, hunting.
And then, by a stroke of luck, I found her.
She swayed, hypnotized by hunger. She had a sallow, miserable appearance that almost made us akin. For a moment I lamented the light blue tint to her skin, the cataracts glazed over her eyes and the residue of blood and flesh that was probably wedged either under her fingernails or teeth at this very moment. I regretted it all because I knew that these criteria justified me sending her to her final death. So without hesitance, I reached into my bag, grabbing the pistol given to me. With a slight sound, I provoked her to turn around which is when I shot her point blank, sending the bullet directly through her head. After that, I proceeded to grab the hacksaw, which I was going to use to obtain her hand. The only problem with that was I feared I wouldn’t make a clean enough cut to keep the hand in good condition. With this in mind I soon found me guiltily bringing my knee down on her shoulder and upper arm, making the severance steady. “No. No” I heard in my voice, as if she could speak. But with my eyes shut tight, I finally managed to cut past bone and remove the hand.
The heartless moment I had obtaining the hand soon subsided ten minutes after walking back to the Scientist’s residence. I began feeling guilt, anxiety, fear. What if the hacksaw cuts into me and I become infected? What if somebody finds her body and hunts for me? What if there was a cure for her that I didn’t know about? Questions rushed into my mind, giving me the overall disappointment that I’d never have the answers. However, I was glad that they provided such a lengthy distraction for me to wonder about. When I got to the mansion, I soon rang the bell to have him great me in the same fashion as before.
“Greetings” He said once again through the peephole.
“Hey… I got the hand.”
“Excellent, let me see it.”
“I’m not pulling it out of the bag.”
“Very well, one moment please.”
Silence for a moment before a rope dropped from the second floor. He instructed me to tie the bag to it and he’d hoist it up. I did so and there was a silence. Soon enough the sounds of a welcoming creaking door were replaced with the sight of a new bag being thrown with a clean hacksaw and the pistol again.
“What’s this for?”
“A male species. I need a foot.”
“You’re kidding.” I contemplated shooting him, but chances where, I’d miss him, he was hidden behind the window and I didn’t know what he was working with weapons wise.
“You don’t expect me to do data just on female’s basis, do you?”
A brief pause. “But you said…”
“Look, I’m sorry, but I didn’t even think that you were even going to get me the first subject’s limb. You can consider that the test, this is just one last thing I need you to do. For me. For the human race.”
“… I’m hungry.” The only words I could muster with the immense sense of defeat residing inside of me.
Another pause. He was excellent with these. But soon enough, a box of assorted snacks landed at my feet. Treats with no nutritional value, but it didn’t matter. It was food. And sugary food, not somebody’s scraps. I smiled and examined the house. It was beautiful and worth one more infected. After all, he was right. This was to preserve people, not to injure them.
“I’ll be back with your infected foot.”
I found myself departing once again, but this time, with a mouth full of sugary cakes and cookies. At this moment, life was fantastic.
As I walked, I decided it’d be best to just retrace where I had taken the woman’s hand. Through the alleyway, I crept, hand gripped on pistol. And then I discovered something interesting.
The girl was gone.
A trail of blood, however led to her current whereabouts and I soon found myself following the long line of it. The farther I got, the darker it was becoming and the deeper within the slums I got. But eventually my trail led to an end point. Her sitting there propped up against a wall. That’s when I finally understood, this wasn’t a mistake of the infector’s stupidity. It was the exact opposite indeed. It was a trap.
A snarling guttural growl made itself present as a quickly dodged out of the way, one of them charging to get me. He missed and to my pleasure, I realized that he was a hue. I had found myself a male subject. Dropping to one knee, I pulled the pistol out. Waiting for it to approach me. Once again, it barreled at me, breakneck speed, and soon met his fate by two bullets I shot. One to the throat, one to the head, he paused for a moment before dropping. I stood to my feet, scanning the area for more of the living dead, suspected that if he had set it up, there had to be more. Surprisingly there weren’t. With that reassurance, I once again wielded the hacksaw.
Marching home, I whistled. Within a day, my look soon turned around. I’d see myself complete with a house to stay at for serving a scientist in his pursuit to conquer the sickness. It was an honorable thing, I thought by now of it. By no means was it fun to extract the parts, but all for good causes. I found myself at the door and knocked.
“Is it you?”
“Yes”
“Evidence?”
“Throw the rope down again”
He soon did and was surprised to see that inside the bag was the infected food.
“One moment please.”
He came back downstairs. “Excellent job, I’m letting you in, okay?”
“Alright.” I said, trying to hide my intense joy that I was going to make it in.
The door opened and with great delight, I took one large stride into the mansion in which I immediately found surprisingly deteriorated. Confused I turned to the Scientist to see one of them: bluish skin, sallow figure, the only difference being that he had a gun to my head.
And that’s when I realized…
———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
“Dinner!” The infected called. Soon he found his wife and son downstairs with him, feasting on the next foolish person to believe that this was some sort of sanctuary.
“So why did this one take so long?” His wife asked, so hungry, she was tearing large tendons and major veins from his neck.
“Because darling, he was special. He held out a big, and like a present she unwrapped it.
“HONEY!!!” A pause before she reached in and grabbed it. “A hand for me?” She held it where her old hand would’ve been, had she not lost it a long time ago. “That’s not all.” He hobbled with foot and stub, grabbing the severed one the boy had collected earlier.
“I’ve got the sewing kit. We’ll attach them tonight.”
"Great. And what about the body? The wife said"
'The body' she was referring to of course was the man they were harvesting, left bound, trying to break free outside in the bushes.
"Oh." He contemplated. " We'll save him for another time"
The World Through That Peephole Was So Incredibly Skewered.
-Derrick
Monday, July 19, 2010
Survival
I could never imagine how to survive like my younger brother. I'd feel trapped; Isolated and alone in my own little world. That's why I've been taking care of him for a while now. I've lost count after 2 years. But I don't mind. I couldn't imagine being alone. The prospect of it is terrifying.
His company and existence is the only thing that drives me to keep moving. First rule of surviving out here—keep moving. Avoid using leaves and grass, as they produce a lot of smoke and not a lot of fire. Avoid all human contact. Wash as thoroughly and often as possible. Dispose of waste properly. Try not to get sick. Go into towns or urban areas as little as possible. Suburbs may look safer, but they aren't. Deny yourself the liberty of contacting any loved ones.
We've had to forage for food. It's hard, trying to hunt. Especially when there are people out there hunting for the same animal as you, or even worse, yourself. I've had to kill a man. It wasn't my fault; he would've brought us to the city. We would've been separated. Who knows what would've happened to me and my brother. My brother didn't hear or see it. I'm glad.
It's hard being on the run from the police.
--Jon
REALLY short story today. I wanted it to sound post-apocalyptic at first, but it's really not. I just wanted to write something today.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
True Terror
And there I was, alone at last.
I once loved people dearly. I would love to go into the city and just sit on a bench, taking in the crowd. I would just sit there for hours and draw children playing in the fountains, businessmen and women eating their lunches, and the elderly feeding birds. I loved the environment of being in a crowded area. I loved just blending in and being a part of the crowd.
Until June 14th, 2002 happened.
We hit the other car at around 60mph on a 30mph road. My father was going twice the speed limit. They were fighting, my mother and father. To be frank, my father was pissed. I can’t recall why they were fighting. In fact, I can’t recall all the insignificant details on that faithful night. It’s not a mental thing; I physically can’t without having a mental breakdown. But I digress.
My older sister and I were the only ones who survived with only a few minor cuts and bruises. Our parents, however, were less than fortunate.
I saw my father’s head split open. I heard the last groan from my mother as her windpipe was crushed and a rib broke, puncturing her lung. I watched as the opposing driver flew through his windshield, hyper-extending his arm and screaming as he flew into the twisted metal of our car, suffering heavy trauma to his spinal column, just under the base of his skull. His wife was pregnant, I heard. Her baby was crushed by the dash, and she died in the hospital bed from head trauma. Even though the CAT scan came back normal, for a pregnant woman. No airbags engaged. It’s kind of funny how car companies put so much emphasis on how safe their cars are.
I was 14 when this happened. I was in shock for 2 years. I could do nothing but sit there and stare. I couldn’t speak at all. I was afraid that if I did anything, my life would shatter. I felt like I was on thin ice. One false move and I’m over my head in below 0 degree water. I was blind to the world and words fell on deaf ears. What were once beautiful sketches that were crafted by my hand and pencil were now inadequate lines on ancient, yellowed paper.
And then, 3 years after the accident, it finally happened.
I woke up one night and left my room. I heard moans from down the hall. The same moans that come from the throes of passion. I knew what my sister was doing, and it disgusted me. However, I still cracked the door and looked. It wasn’t the sex that scared me, because I frankly couldn’t care about what my sister was doing behind closed doors with her boyfriend. No, it was the thing I saw. It wasn’t just the naked bodies and interlocked arms and legs of my sister and her boyfriend in the room, but a sick, twisted perversion of shadow and sin loomed over the both of them. Its gaping, drooling maw was inches above their bodies and its fiery eyes blazed hotter and brighter as her boyfriend was reaching the point of orgasm. Looking back on it, I find it kind of funny what I did next.
I screamed. And of course my sister had the biggest look of shock on her face as she quickly covered herself and her boyfriend with the sheets. My sister naturally thought I screamed at the fact that she was having sex, but that wasn’t it. I was terrified at the terrible being that towered over both of them. It looked up at me, gave the impression that it scowled, and then faded away. I ran from the room and curled into my bed, lifting the sheets over my head the same way that my sister and her boyfriend had done. I sobbed all night. I cried until every my entire body ached. In the first moments out of my shock, I saw something that would change my life forever.
I no longer had any desire to go out into public. If I saw two people fighting, I saw the embodiment of the anger, clutching chains that held the two captive. After the accident I could see monsters. No, these were not the goblins or trolls of fantasy stories, but monsters that were reflections of the sins on people’s souls. Certain beasts had certain characteristics. Soon I was able to identify all the sins of someone’s past based on the different characteristics of the demon that reflected their soul. I could do nothing to fight them. I wanted to save people from what had them captive, but I could do nothing. I didn’t want to leave my room. I couldn’t bear to see other people, and I needed to be alone. I felt so small.
And I still feel small, in this dark.
8 years after the accident. 5 years after I started seeing the monsters in people’s souls. I thought I knew the terror that came from seeing these monsters. However, I was dead wrong. I felt as though I needed to go back to the site of the crash. I wanted to be rid of this curse completely. I figured, ‘what better way to get rid of it than to face the source?’
I stood where I was when I saw the horrendous deaths of my family members and the people in the other car. Tears flooded from my eyes as I recalled the details of that fateful night. I couldn’t bear it anymore. I couldn’t bear the horrors that gripped my throat and constricted my breathing. And then I saw the one thing that filled me with the greatest feeling of dread and fear.
I saw my own monster. It stood on the road in front of me. It didn’t take the shape of a terrible beast, but of a man. In fact, he wasn’t made up of the shadowy, slightly transparent matter that the rest of them were made of. He was tall, and dressed in all black. He had black pants, a black dress shirt, a black suit jacket, and black fedora. The only things that weren’t black were his white tie and pale-grey skin. I didn’t know what he represented. In fact, I didn’t think he even existed. All I know is that he smiled, held out his right arm to his side, and stretched out his black-gloved hand. He snapped, and disappeared in a puff of smoke. Shocked, I realized it was now in the middle of the night. I don’t know how long I sat there, staring at the man wordlessly. All I knew was that my vision was being quickly filled with bright lights.
The car tires simultaneously rolled over both my lower legs and my upper back. I could feel my ribs pop, one by one as they broke. I rolled a little, and the back tires ran over the back of my neck and lower back, flattening my insides against the ground. The last thing I remember before darkness was looking up at my watch, seeing that the time was 3:49 a.m. The date was June 14th, 2010. The same day and time as the crash.
In death, I still feel small.
I once loved people dearly. I would love to go into the city and just sit on a bench, taking in the crowd. I would just sit there for hours and draw children playing in the fountains, businessmen and women eating their lunches, and the elderly feeding birds. I loved the environment of being in a crowded area. I loved just blending in and being a part of the crowd.
Until June 14th, 2002 happened.
We hit the other car at around 60mph on a 30mph road. My father was going twice the speed limit. They were fighting, my mother and father. To be frank, my father was pissed. I can’t recall why they were fighting. In fact, I can’t recall all the insignificant details on that faithful night. It’s not a mental thing; I physically can’t without having a mental breakdown. But I digress.
My older sister and I were the only ones who survived with only a few minor cuts and bruises. Our parents, however, were less than fortunate.
I saw my father’s head split open. I heard the last groan from my mother as her windpipe was crushed and a rib broke, puncturing her lung. I watched as the opposing driver flew through his windshield, hyper-extending his arm and screaming as he flew into the twisted metal of our car, suffering heavy trauma to his spinal column, just under the base of his skull. His wife was pregnant, I heard. Her baby was crushed by the dash, and she died in the hospital bed from head trauma. Even though the CAT scan came back normal, for a pregnant woman. No airbags engaged. It’s kind of funny how car companies put so much emphasis on how safe their cars are.
I was 14 when this happened. I was in shock for 2 years. I could do nothing but sit there and stare. I couldn’t speak at all. I was afraid that if I did anything, my life would shatter. I felt like I was on thin ice. One false move and I’m over my head in below 0 degree water. I was blind to the world and words fell on deaf ears. What were once beautiful sketches that were crafted by my hand and pencil were now inadequate lines on ancient, yellowed paper.
And then, 3 years after the accident, it finally happened.
I woke up one night and left my room. I heard moans from down the hall. The same moans that come from the throes of passion. I knew what my sister was doing, and it disgusted me. However, I still cracked the door and looked. It wasn’t the sex that scared me, because I frankly couldn’t care about what my sister was doing behind closed doors with her boyfriend. No, it was the thing I saw. It wasn’t just the naked bodies and interlocked arms and legs of my sister and her boyfriend in the room, but a sick, twisted perversion of shadow and sin loomed over the both of them. Its gaping, drooling maw was inches above their bodies and its fiery eyes blazed hotter and brighter as her boyfriend was reaching the point of orgasm. Looking back on it, I find it kind of funny what I did next.
I screamed. And of course my sister had the biggest look of shock on her face as she quickly covered herself and her boyfriend with the sheets. My sister naturally thought I screamed at the fact that she was having sex, but that wasn’t it. I was terrified at the terrible being that towered over both of them. It looked up at me, gave the impression that it scowled, and then faded away. I ran from the room and curled into my bed, lifting the sheets over my head the same way that my sister and her boyfriend had done. I sobbed all night. I cried until every my entire body ached. In the first moments out of my shock, I saw something that would change my life forever.
I no longer had any desire to go out into public. If I saw two people fighting, I saw the embodiment of the anger, clutching chains that held the two captive. After the accident I could see monsters. No, these were not the goblins or trolls of fantasy stories, but monsters that were reflections of the sins on people’s souls. Certain beasts had certain characteristics. Soon I was able to identify all the sins of someone’s past based on the different characteristics of the demon that reflected their soul. I could do nothing to fight them. I wanted to save people from what had them captive, but I could do nothing. I didn’t want to leave my room. I couldn’t bear to see other people, and I needed to be alone. I felt so small.
And I still feel small, in this dark.
8 years after the accident. 5 years after I started seeing the monsters in people’s souls. I thought I knew the terror that came from seeing these monsters. However, I was dead wrong. I felt as though I needed to go back to the site of the crash. I wanted to be rid of this curse completely. I figured, ‘what better way to get rid of it than to face the source?’
I stood where I was when I saw the horrendous deaths of my family members and the people in the other car. Tears flooded from my eyes as I recalled the details of that fateful night. I couldn’t bear it anymore. I couldn’t bear the horrors that gripped my throat and constricted my breathing. And then I saw the one thing that filled me with the greatest feeling of dread and fear.
I saw my own monster. It stood on the road in front of me. It didn’t take the shape of a terrible beast, but of a man. In fact, he wasn’t made up of the shadowy, slightly transparent matter that the rest of them were made of. He was tall, and dressed in all black. He had black pants, a black dress shirt, a black suit jacket, and black fedora. The only things that weren’t black were his white tie and pale-grey skin. I didn’t know what he represented. In fact, I didn’t think he even existed. All I know is that he smiled, held out his right arm to his side, and stretched out his black-gloved hand. He snapped, and disappeared in a puff of smoke. Shocked, I realized it was now in the middle of the night. I don’t know how long I sat there, staring at the man wordlessly. All I knew was that my vision was being quickly filled with bright lights.
The car tires simultaneously rolled over both my lower legs and my upper back. I could feel my ribs pop, one by one as they broke. I rolled a little, and the back tires ran over the back of my neck and lower back, flattening my insides against the ground. The last thing I remember before darkness was looking up at my watch, seeing that the time was 3:49 a.m. The date was June 14th, 2010. The same day and time as the crash.
In death, I still feel small.
--Jon
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
It's Hard Telling The Person You Love...
"I'M DEAD. I'VE BEEN DEAD FOR SOME TIME NOW."
The thing I hated about Ashley the most was when she heard something that entertained her, you know that she's smiling. Your back could be turned; you could be on the phone. No matter how discretely or indescribably she attempts for it to be, you can tell she's laughing to herself at your discretion.
"Julius, you're kidding."
She was being indiscreet.
"No, I'm not. Your boyfriend found out. And when he did, he got his dad's pistol. He shot me until he didn't see me breathing anymore. Then he threw me over a bridge into the river where my body still probably is. I paused for a minute, coughing up a mouthful of water. Keeled over, I heard her voice one last time.
"Julius, you're being ridiculous, we can't continue this if you're going to act so strange..."
I rose, slamming the phone to the receiver, then slumped down again. I couldn't feel my bones. My whole body felt completely numbed and it felt that I no longer required the necessity of breathing. It enhanced my mind. It allowed me to go back and sort through our relationship. To think deeply. To think of how deeply brainless I have been. How every time she was upset, I was there, and how every time I said 'I love you' she said "Steve should be calling soon, you should go."
She taught me everything I knew. About love, about relationships, about intimacy. She used me and somehow I remained blind. And when she got bored, Steve found out. I laughed to myself for a minute. This turned to about five which turned to ten which turned into an eternity that I will spend ridiculing myself. I honestly played into the cliche heart broken nerd who was actually in love with the girl using him. How many times had I seen this in movies? How many times have I laughed at those people. How many times had I sworn myself in to never experience something so stupid? I laughed some more, considering calling the friends that I used to speak to. The ones who left because they couldn't stand to see me destroy myself with that girl.
Then an immense sadness filled my chest.
I was dead. It was now that I remembered leaving Ashley's house and feeling a gun to my back and being told to keep walking. He led me somewhere concluded and then turned me around. I saw the rage in his eyes, but it wasn't wild love driving him to kill me. It was pride. I had what he had claimed and this made him furious. His posture, the fact that he was sizing me up with his eyes. The fact that he never used Ashley's name once.
"You slept with her."
"That is true, I love Ashley." I said honestly.
"She's mine." He rebuked simply.
"Treat her better then."
I looked at the gun.
"They'll find you if you kill me."
He smiled confidently. "This is my dad's. If anything happens, it's in his name. Besides, he goes shooting every other week. My prints will be gone before I even have time to worry about it."
I looked down to the ground, where I'd eventually lie. "You've been thinking about this for some time, huh?"
"Ever since I met you, kid"
At that moment, I tried the only thing possible to save me. I punched Steve as hard as I could in the face and ran. As I heard him hit the ground, I heard 3 shots. I turned around to see how quickly he had reacted, the pistol stabilized on his right knee. I fell and hit the ground. He recovered himself and shot 4 more times. Then my body found its way to the river.
I was dead and nothing would change that. Slumped in a phone booth, I had what could be considered a body and contact to the world which could be considered paranormal, but I was dead. Never would I see those friends, my family. I wouldn't have anything anymore. I wouldn't be anything. And I remember when my spirit elevated from the ocean who was first in my thoughts. Ashley.
My eyes misted. I had messed up.Really bad. Never again would I get to relive what I had had in that world, and I completely wasted it. Tears came running down, but I couldn't tell if they were in reality or if this was an illusion I was having in death. Did my tears hit the floor or did I just believe them to exist?
That's when I saw a kid my age with a hoodie and jeans shredded at the legs open the phone booth.
"Hey are you on the phone."
I looked up. "I guess not."
"Okay, come with me."
We walked together and it took less than 20 seconds to comprehend.
"You're death, right?"
He turned and smiled. "Youth division."
I walked a bit uneasy. This was it. This guy was going to be the taker of my life. The one that would guide me to heaven or hell. He was my after-life line at this point and he scared me.
"Any last words?" He asked.
"Huh?"
"The little prick who killed you, we can arrange him to say your last words in court when he gets arrested."
I thought. This was my chance. All of my closure could come here. My mom my dad, my sister, my aunt, I loved them all. But how was I supposed to say it perfectly?
"Take your time man, you can tell me at the Overlook."
"The overlook?" I said perplexed.
"Yeah, It's a place where... how do I explain it... Oh yes! Where souls go to think."
"Like purgatory?"
"Yeah, but the view is beautiful from up there." He smiled and continued marching on.
I have no idea how this kid died. I had no idea where I was. But somehow, heading to The Overlook, I felt an overwhelming sense of comfort. Things would play out when we got there and I could think of my last words. My last address to the old world I knew and then I could move on to wherever I was planned to be taken.
It's hard telling the people you love how great it feels when you've found heaven.
-McCain
The thing I hated about Ashley the most was when she heard something that entertained her, you know that she's smiling. Your back could be turned; you could be on the phone. No matter how discretely or indescribably she attempts for it to be, you can tell she's laughing to herself at your discretion.
"Julius, you're kidding."
She was being indiscreet.
"No, I'm not. Your boyfriend found out. And when he did, he got his dad's pistol. He shot me until he didn't see me breathing anymore. Then he threw me over a bridge into the river where my body still probably is. I paused for a minute, coughing up a mouthful of water. Keeled over, I heard her voice one last time.
"Julius, you're being ridiculous, we can't continue this if you're going to act so strange..."
I rose, slamming the phone to the receiver, then slumped down again. I couldn't feel my bones. My whole body felt completely numbed and it felt that I no longer required the necessity of breathing. It enhanced my mind. It allowed me to go back and sort through our relationship. To think deeply. To think of how deeply brainless I have been. How every time she was upset, I was there, and how every time I said 'I love you' she said "Steve should be calling soon, you should go."
She taught me everything I knew. About love, about relationships, about intimacy. She used me and somehow I remained blind. And when she got bored, Steve found out. I laughed to myself for a minute. This turned to about five which turned to ten which turned into an eternity that I will spend ridiculing myself. I honestly played into the cliche heart broken nerd who was actually in love with the girl using him. How many times had I seen this in movies? How many times have I laughed at those people. How many times had I sworn myself in to never experience something so stupid? I laughed some more, considering calling the friends that I used to speak to. The ones who left because they couldn't stand to see me destroy myself with that girl.
Then an immense sadness filled my chest.
I was dead. It was now that I remembered leaving Ashley's house and feeling a gun to my back and being told to keep walking. He led me somewhere concluded and then turned me around. I saw the rage in his eyes, but it wasn't wild love driving him to kill me. It was pride. I had what he had claimed and this made him furious. His posture, the fact that he was sizing me up with his eyes. The fact that he never used Ashley's name once.
"You slept with her."
"That is true, I love Ashley." I said honestly.
"She's mine." He rebuked simply.
"Treat her better then."
I looked at the gun.
"They'll find you if you kill me."
He smiled confidently. "This is my dad's. If anything happens, it's in his name. Besides, he goes shooting every other week. My prints will be gone before I even have time to worry about it."
I looked down to the ground, where I'd eventually lie. "You've been thinking about this for some time, huh?"
"Ever since I met you, kid"
At that moment, I tried the only thing possible to save me. I punched Steve as hard as I could in the face and ran. As I heard him hit the ground, I heard 3 shots. I turned around to see how quickly he had reacted, the pistol stabilized on his right knee. I fell and hit the ground. He recovered himself and shot 4 more times. Then my body found its way to the river.
I was dead and nothing would change that. Slumped in a phone booth, I had what could be considered a body and contact to the world which could be considered paranormal, but I was dead. Never would I see those friends, my family. I wouldn't have anything anymore. I wouldn't be anything. And I remember when my spirit elevated from the ocean who was first in my thoughts. Ashley.
My eyes misted. I had messed up.Really bad. Never again would I get to relive what I had had in that world, and I completely wasted it. Tears came running down, but I couldn't tell if they were in reality or if this was an illusion I was having in death. Did my tears hit the floor or did I just believe them to exist?
That's when I saw a kid my age with a hoodie and jeans shredded at the legs open the phone booth.
"Hey are you on the phone."
I looked up. "I guess not."
"Okay, come with me."
We walked together and it took less than 20 seconds to comprehend.
"You're death, right?"
He turned and smiled. "Youth division."
I walked a bit uneasy. This was it. This guy was going to be the taker of my life. The one that would guide me to heaven or hell. He was my after-life line at this point and he scared me.
"Any last words?" He asked.
"Huh?"
"The little prick who killed you, we can arrange him to say your last words in court when he gets arrested."
I thought. This was my chance. All of my closure could come here. My mom my dad, my sister, my aunt, I loved them all. But how was I supposed to say it perfectly?
"Take your time man, you can tell me at the Overlook."
"The overlook?" I said perplexed.
"Yeah, It's a place where... how do I explain it... Oh yes! Where souls go to think."
"Like purgatory?"
"Yeah, but the view is beautiful from up there." He smiled and continued marching on.
I have no idea how this kid died. I had no idea where I was. But somehow, heading to The Overlook, I felt an overwhelming sense of comfort. Things would play out when we got there and I could think of my last words. My last address to the old world I knew and then I could move on to wherever I was planned to be taken.
It's hard telling the people you love how great it feels when you've found heaven.
-McCain
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
NaNoWriMo
Otherwise known as National Novel Writing Month.
basically, what you do is sign up at www.nanowrimo.org, and you're set. Then you basically just wait until November 1-30.
During that month, there will be 30 days of straight novel writing. Don't worry about plot-holes, grammar issues, etc. It doesn't have to be perfect, just a draft. All your questions can be answered at NaNoWriMo's FAQ. Write 50,000 or more words and you can enter your novel on the website, where they will validate the word count. Every year, there are many, many winners. There are no "Best Novel" or "Quickest-Written Novel" awards given out. All winners will get an official "Winner" web badge and a PDF Winner's Certificate. The real prize in NaNoWriMo is the manuscript itself, and the exhilarating feeling of setting an ambitious creative goal and nailing it.
I'm definately doing it. Are you?
basically, what you do is sign up at www.nanowrimo.org, and you're set. Then you basically just wait until November 1-30.
During that month, there will be 30 days of straight novel writing. Don't worry about plot-holes, grammar issues, etc. It doesn't have to be perfect, just a draft. All your questions can be answered at NaNoWriMo's FAQ. Write 50,000 or more words and you can enter your novel on the website, where they will validate the word count. Every year, there are many, many winners. There are no "Best Novel" or "Quickest-Written Novel" awards given out. All winners will get an official "Winner" web badge and a PDF Winner's Certificate. The real prize in NaNoWriMo is the manuscript itself, and the exhilarating feeling of setting an ambitious creative goal and nailing it.
I'm definately doing it. Are you?
--Jon
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
It's been a while
Dear interwebs,
It's been a while. And while I've been busy on Facebook, Comicfury, and other websites, I've realized that I've neglected one thing that made you the best thing ever--The Overlook. And so, I've decided to come back. Maybe I can revive you--probably not. Maybe more people will follow the blog than just the ones that had since we started (barely any). And so, here in an excerpt from a story I'm trying to write and illustrate. I hope you enjoy it and it gains your interest. It's called Dead Intentions
Every day I would wake up at 7:00 in the morning. Take a shower, skip breakfast, kiss my wife goodbye and grab a coffee on my way to work. I'd sit down, code for 5 hours, and go for lunch. I'd come back; work 'till 5 (often I would stay at work late, however). I'd ride the bus home and come shuffling through the door, where my wife and kids would be waiting for me. However, today was diferent. I woke up and felt that something was wrong. Something was different about today. By the time I got hom, I knew what was wrong.
My wife and kids were murdered.
It's been a while. And while I've been busy on Facebook, Comicfury, and other websites, I've realized that I've neglected one thing that made you the best thing ever--The Overlook. And so, I've decided to come back. Maybe I can revive you--probably not. Maybe more people will follow the blog than just the ones that had since we started (barely any). And so, here in an excerpt from a story I'm trying to write and illustrate. I hope you enjoy it and it gains your interest. It's called Dead Intentions
Every day I would wake up at 7:00 in the morning. Take a shower, skip breakfast, kiss my wife goodbye and grab a coffee on my way to work. I'd sit down, code for 5 hours, and go for lunch. I'd come back; work 'till 5 (often I would stay at work late, however). I'd ride the bus home and come shuffling through the door, where my wife and kids would be waiting for me. However, today was diferent. I woke up and felt that something was wrong. Something was different about today. By the time I got hom, I knew what was wrong.
My wife and kids were murdered.
--Jon
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