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.

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.

--Jon

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

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?

--Jon

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.

--Jon

Rustling in the leaves; Underground

For the record, my intentions are not to talk like I am autistic, but just to send all of you a message. Today, my teacher told me that I don't exist. I'm a pigment of my own imagination. A floating pixel on the ground that just got ran over by a mac truck. I'm rolling in the sewer with my non-existent self and I can't smell one ounce of shit in this place because I simply do not exist. My teacher has tried to beat me before, she tried to tell me that my parents don't care about me because I'm imaginary. That I was a mistake. I wasn't meant to be here. And the more I thought about it, the more I believed it. I've been thinking when I walked into puddles, of rain, on the ground, that my foot wouldn't get wet, it was just stay the way it was. And sometimes, when I eat, I find my food sitting on the chair when I get up. I feel non-existent and invisible. My mom never says "Hi honey how was your day at school?" I don't know why when I go to school only my teacher talks to me, and I have no friends. Nobody notices when I talk and nobody notices when I slam my fists on the table out of anger. I don't know why I walk down the street and try to pet the neighborhood dog, or play with the free kids on the street. Everybody just asks, "What just happened?" "Why did something just touch my hand, was that you?"
---
I told her the next day that I bought a cow, and I thought he was an angel. Because he noticed me, and he licked me with his long cow tongue. He was a friend of mine, that I saw a lot of kindness in and I wanted this to be my lifelong companion, because he was the only one that was my best friend, ever. My teacher said that he resembled the devil. I said she was full of shit. She's always bringing me down, she's always telling me how I don't even matter.
---
The other day, my teacher touched me. She beat me, and tried to fuck me. She was really warm, as we laid on the science table and fucked. I don't know why, but she said this weird word. She said I "raped" her. But I don't know what that means. I can't think, really. I never could. I just knew this felt really good, so I did it, even if she was burning my dick off. It got really hot, almost too hot for normal. I didn't know if this was normal because I didn't know what this was. I just heard people talking about how they "fucked" at this party last night. It feels okay, but not when it feels like an oven.
>>>
I feel like, my teacher isn't human sometimes. Like she's from another world. Like she always does the most weirdest things. She guts lightning bugs and sticks the glowing part from their butts on her teeth and smiles deviously. I don't get it. I need help.
>>>
Today, I found out that my teacher isn't in the school records. She isn't enrolled in our school. I asked the guidance counselor if I could talk to her, I wanted to leave whenever I was in HER class. I started to notice, that when she teaches all the other kids are talking and goofing off and doing other class work. It's almost like we were in study hall. But the only person that was listening was me. I tried to talk to the guidance counselor, but when I went to go sit, it's like I wasn't there. She kept talking on the phone and sending other kids in, and I got to listen to all of their personal problems. What is wrong with me?
>>>
Today, I walked to the psyche hospital and sat in the waiting room for 2 days. Nobody noticed me. I am invisible.
>>>
My teacher is so beautiful.
She's a demon.
I am in love.
I am invisible.
And I am dead.

_______________________________
So, this is something I had a dream about. It might not make ANY sense to you. But the boy died a lonnnggg time ago, and went to hell. He came back as an autistic boy, and is invisible to almost everyone. His teacher is a demon, of course, she's the only one that notices him. Because she is his wife. Get it?

-Kayla

The Sanctuary (A Virgin Society)

822 Days Until Comedown:

It is dark outside. All the time. And we're, I think. We're old enough now, old enough to rip the feeding tubes out of our arms just as the umbilical chord is separated from a mommy and her baby. A boy told us that today. He knew because he was 10 when we got sent up here, he had a really good memory. I'm only 8, but that's all I know, hopefully all the kids here will remember something about themselves with me, like the ten year old boy. Maybe we could all be friends.

820 Days Until Comedown:

Today the 10 year old boy found a whole bunch of movies in the back of the ship. He put them on and there is a lady who calls herself the 'mother' of all of us. I don't know if it's true but she has a bunch of pictures of us, and next to them, she said our names, so here's mine.

Hello. My name is Samuel.

267 Days Until Comedown:

There are so many things to learn today. Mother has taught us all our vocabulary and customs of culture. She says she can't tell us everything, because she wants us all to experience things for ourselves. She keeps crying in all of her videos. Nobody knows why. All we do all day is sit and look forward to more videos of her, take notes, learn everything possible. This is how we will come to fine an explanation to being in space. And by the way, she has revealed that we're in space.

Samuel

128 Days Until Comedown

Study Study Study, a constant staple in our day. After that though, we eat our food and say hello to our friends. I have a few friends here but I remain closest to the boy who first revealed to me what an umbilical cord was. His name is Daniel and he knows most of the things that we learned earlier, like writing, but still we sit and wonder, why had mother cry? What had upset our mother in every single lesson she recorded, no matter what it was about? He tells me has memories of adults talking behind closed doors, shipping us off into space. We learned about what a family was today and what boys and girls do to make babies. Our ship was disgusted and for the whole day girls and boys remained separated from each other, until dinner that was. But thinking of everything, it really made me wonder, did my mom and dad care about me?

77 Days Until Comedown

And so all is revealed. Mother, she cries because she had to let go of us. She actually tells us its because she's crying for all of the women here. All of the mom's and dad's who've had to give up their children. Its hard aging from 8 to 10 on a spaceship with no concept of what life is really supposed to be like. Boys don't know how to treat girls; we don't know the concepts of society. All we know is mother. On the bright side, we're learning more and more about this thing called the comedown. Mother has changed her focus from World History to recent history. We don't know what it is yet, but hopefully it means us getting out of here.

Samuel

60 Days Until Comedown

Daniel steadily is learning on his own. Much older, he's learning how to operate a craft such as the one we're on currently. He's learning about the great societies of time, like Mayans and Incans and people such as that. He told me of pilgrims and all things through history. I stay interested, but I fear he's become engulfed in this work. Constantly studying, he doesn't even play the games as we all do. Instead he sits and reads.

Samuel

28 Days Until Comedown

Our history lesson in class: 2 years ago a different species invaded our planet. It took over our bodies and altered a mind. A closed- door- group of scientist decided there was only one way to prevent the spread- by bombing everything. A few parents were told the truth and that's where we came in. We were sent up into space when they dropped the bomb that would kill most of the species. They said themselves, the chemicals were made to make sure that no human lived, but where we should be landing, and that there'd be a safe house full of canned goods. We were given mom to learn to cook and clean and live without adults. We were supposed to come down, she says. Come down and hit the earth with the hard built top of the ship. She tells us that if we land and there's knocking, not to open the door.

Samuel

The Comedown

We hit the ground, hard. In an odd form of synchronization, the last video played and she told us to wait for noises. Nothing. The boys and girls filed out accordingly to what they saw as a safe house. The ground resembled ash, almost like a thing called snow that we learned about, but more pale. The air smelled harsh and hurt my lungs a bit. I couldn't wait until we got into the house. And when we finally did, as promised, cans of food remained everywhere from our ancestors. Because we had learned to cook food on the ship, such variety made it exhilarating for us. Daniel stayed in the ship uneasy though and as we all gathered happily, he remained paranoid.

We went inside and saw magazines. The magazine had a bunch of older women and dresses and muscular men. They almost looked like gods and I wondered if they were to the men and women who died before us. But my thoughts were thrown aside to the knocking, no, the rapping at the door. Quickly one of us locked it and we saw it was not a child as we were. Quickly, we ran upstairs for cover, and then found a weapon. We heard a large noise, which I thought was the window breaking, but when we looked out we saw that it was Daniel outside, making the noise. He was igniting the spacecraft, trying to launch off again. Against the ship, adults bleeding from the fingernails clawed at it, making a high pitch squealing noise we had never heard of. For a moment, he seemed at peace, launching the ship; I thought all of the hard work, all of the isolation, had gone in his favor. But that glimpse of hope was interrupted by a glimpse of a spark instead, showing the imminent fate of Daniel. The spark turned to a fire, the fire turned to an explosion and he was gone, leaving us alone. The used- to be adults came to us again now, banging on the doors of our little house and we all started crying. And for once, I felt emotions that mother used to teach us. I felt sad, I felt scared, but partly, I felt angry. I took the weapon and went downstairs. The Comedown wasn't what we expected but maybe if I made this land our own, we would find a way to survive.

Samuel

Hey guys, this is my story. Parts of it are unrealistic, like the fact that he has an extensive vocabulary at 10 years old, but I'm just trying to get my thoughts down

-Derrick