Monthly Archives: February 2013

Part 3

Here’s the final part to the story we have been seeing. I guess it will be time to actually write some new content after this, the horror!

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The man stood by a candy kiosk, oblivious to the world around him. His eyes darted from the bright light pouring out of the ceiling to the shops filled with gaudy displays. He glanced at a small girl, who was even more oblivious to the world than the man. She grasped for the light like it was a butterfly just out of her reach. When her hand produced nothing, she stomped the ground in a fit of selfish rage and went over to a nearby window.
The girl stared in the window, possibly waiting for something, possibly lost in thoughts of teacups and unicorns. The man stared at nothing, most likely lost in thoughts of sex and everything but unicorns. They were almost one in the same, both space cadets on a tour of duty, except it was an acceptable job for a little girl, not a grown man.
A woman with a handful of bags and phone in one hand, and babe in the other stepped onto the escalator. She was staring at a shop near the top, her eyes filled with hunger and lust. There was nothing else in her world. At the bottom of the escalator, the little girl stared up at her mother. She danced from one foot to the other as though she had to go visit the little girl’s room. Her faced twisted into a writhing mess of confusion and pitiful fear. Behind her, the man’s eyes could only follow the mother and her swaying breasts. A line of people were gathering behind the escalator. Their bellies lumbered to a stop and their snorts, sounding from near pushed up noses, showed their displeasure. Some shoved and pushed, others tapped their almost cloven feet, while one was content stuffing his face with a pretzel.
A shriek, one that could have come from a small monkey, pierced the air. The mother finally realized her girl wasn’t with her, and at this point should have realized her chances at mother of the year were quickly fading. The little girl stared up at her mother with woefully big eyes. Tears dribbled down her cheeks. The man stood there, maybe not even realizing what was happening. His face contained a silly grin, one better suited on a dumbstruck teenage boy.
The mother came back down the stairs, stumbling over the steps as though she was drunk, though the odds of her being drunk were only in the 40-50% range. The girl reached up to her mother while the man ran his hand through his oily, dark hair. It was an olympic feat for the mother, in flip flops, to hop down the steps and reach the girl—or would have been an olympic feat if bad parenting and stupidity was an event. She was almost to her child, reaching out to her. The child reached back. The man stared at the woman’s cleavage.
A crash and cry echoed through the mall. The child, with her back on the escalator, screamed and cried as the metal stairs churned up and up. Her hair inched towards the gears, towards relief from her current, tormented cries. For a moment, her mother stood there staring at her, a dull, emotionless look on her face. The man had almost the same look, but this one appearing more like the dunce who had just been called to answer a question in school. The DUUHHHH was almost heard.
The woman reached down to pick up her child. The people behind watched, eyes wide, spectators waiting for the glorious blood. As the escalator kept churning, kept bringing the pitiful child’s hair closer and closer to the side, the man took a step forward, turned his head, and stopped. The mother finally reached down and lifted up the screaming urchin. She rubbed her head, the mother went back to staring at the shop, and the man stepped onto the escalator, eyes still glued on the mother. Just a day in the life.

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Part 2

After a little bit to digest the first part of the story, here is part 2.

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Sara squinted at the light, smiling and trying to grab the rays with chubby, squat fingers. For a second, she thought she had grabbed a ray. Lifting it to her mouth and stuffing the ray inside, she munched on it while moving it from one side of her mouth to the other. It was not delicious, not exactly what she had been hoping for. She frowned and stomped the ground, turning her head away from the brightness with a huff.
She felt like she was in a jungle then. Sara glanced from place to place, hearing the constant murmur and noise like a thousand birds calling back to each other. She liked the jungle, liked being in the heart of it. Letting out a screech, she called back to the birds. There was no reply. She waited for a little bit, staring at the clothes hanging in one window. Sara glanced at some of the other shops in the mall, waiting for that elusive sound. There was still no reply. She huffed again, spun around, and ran to catch up with her mother.
Before her stood a monster. The jungle had produced a horror. Sara stared at the grinning beast. It was a snake, constantly moving upwards, spikes coming out of its back. She stopped at the edge of it and watched her mother step onto its back. Up she went, riding on the creature’s back. Sara shivered, her skirt shaking with her.
Sara wondered how her mother could step onto such a thing. Did she know it? Had they made some kind of deal? What would be the price of stepping on its back? Surely a creature like that would require a toll just like the troll under the bridge. Her face contorted into a giant O. Sara thought the toll might be little girls. The creature looked hungry; all that moving must make it really, really hungry. She took a step back, not wanting to be eaten up by the creature. Sara yelled for her mother, tried to tell her to get off the evil thing.
Her mom noticed her and began waving, urging her to step onto one of its spiked ridges. Sara was frozen. She couldn’t imagine stepping onto such a thing. Turning her head around, she noticed a man standing behind her. He was short and thin and had a silly look on his face. Sara wondered if he was scared too, after all, his eyes were glued on the escalator.
Sara turned her head around to see her mother coming back down the creature’s back. She was coming to save her! Juggling her bags, Sara’s baby sister, and that glowing box, her mother had a difficult time going against the creature’s will. She reached out her hand, Sara reached back. Her mother took a step down, and Sara took a step back.
The world spun around Sara for a brief instant before a writhing, splitting pain overtook her whole head. She screamed, reaching for the back of her head. The creature had gotten her! It had used one of its spikes to hurt her, and now, it was going to swallow her whole. But she couldn’t stand, didn’t even have time to think about the creature and its twisted plans for her. The pain was too much to bear. It blinded her, blotted out the noise of the jungle.
Sara saw the man behind her. He took a step forward. He stopped, turned his head to the side, and stared at her. Sara screamed even louder. The pain punched every part of her body and she knew soon the creature would eat her. A strong hand reached under her, pulled her up, and stood her on one of the spiked ridges. Sara, still crying and screaming, rubbed her head and knew she would hop up the stairs from now on.

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Back to the stories?

Seeing as how I have been pressed for time as of late (I find myself writing a lot, which I can’t say is really a bad thing as a writer), it’s time to back to the stories!  Here is a three part exercise turned story.  We’ll do part 1 today and the rest later.

 

 

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It was bright.  Sam squinted even though he was indoors.  From all the shops and their windows reflecting the bouncing rays to the vaulted ceiling that let in more light than a greenhouse in an arboretum, the mall was near blinding.  Sam blinked a couple times, wondered why it had to be so bright, and stepped up to the escalator.

A constant noise, the hushed murmur found during early afternoon on a weekday, echoed over the area like the sound of a distant highway.  Sam liked the quiet.  It wasn’t the same ear splitting noise that was usually there during the weekends.  There was still an occasional banshee like squeal from a little child, piercing the air and walls and humans.  As he stopped and looked at the kiosks while waiting for the people in front of him to step onto the escalator, he heard one of those screams.  His skin crawled, bubbling up and falling down like he was the vat of a witches’ brew.

In front of him, a small child and mother were just stepping onto the escalator.  The mother was young and thin.  Strands of slightly curled black hair cascaded around her shoulders.  Her face was narrow, pointed, discerning.  She was holding an infant in one hand, a cell phone and shopping bags in the other, all while trying to coax along the kid, something which was much like trying to get a cautious doe to take a couple steps forward.

Sam gazed at her for a moment, thoughts of a fun night, real fun night going through his mind.  He thought he saw her wink at him.  His mind did summersaults as he wondered what his next step should be.  Sam ran his hand over his head, fluffing his brown hair into place before taking another step forward.

He stopped just as he was about to step onto the escalator.  The small child was still at the bottom, unwilling to take the final step.  Sam could hear the complaints from behind and he could visualize the line snaking through the mall.  The woman was already ascending, oblivious that her kid was at the bottom and not coming up with her.

When the kid cried, an ear splitting noise, the mother turned around and noticed the problem.  She waved her arms as though she was a mix between a traffic cop and a crazed person standing on a corner screaming about the end times.  She tried yelling, tried more waving, but none of it worked.  Sam watched, more the woman than the child standing right in front of him.  She finally descended the stairs, working double time to fight the escalator.  The woman reached out her hand; the kid reached back.  She took a step down and the kid took a step up.

A crash echoed over the area.  Just as the woman stepped down, the child stepped up and tripped on her mother’s foot.  She tumbled backwards on the escalator, head smacking into the metal, teeth like points on the edge of the stairs.  A scream pierced the mall.  Sam watched as her hair dangled dangerously close to the side, to a near certain doom if her black pony tail was pulled into the churning gears underneath.

The mother danced on the steps.  She tried her best to pull up the child, but it was hard with no free hands.  The kid was still screaming, and still within a couple feet of Sam.  He watched.  The thought of helping passed through his mind.  Sam turned his head to the side, took a step forward, and waited for the mother to pick up the girl.  When the kid was safely standing on the stairs, sobbing and rubbing her head, Sam shrugged, thought about the possible wink again, and stepped onto the escalator.

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Enough with the Stories

Ok so enough with the stories (i.e. off with their heads!).  I’ve been waiting a little longer in between posts now because of the stories, so I’ll try and hop back on the wagon here and get these posts flowing again.  The lack of posts also has nothing, and I mean NOTHING to do with this….

 

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Everyone needs a break every now and then, and I have to say, if you enjoy video games and anything to do with the medieval era/swords, this game is for you (think counter-strike with swords).  It is absolutely a blast!  If I were writing a review blog, it would have 5/5 stars…but I’m not, so yeah.  Anyways, some new posts will be coming in, and in the meantime, go chop off some limbs and heads.

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The Hill

Here is another exercise turned short piece.  Enjoy!

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The hill was long and sloping and never gentle.  John waited at the bottom.  He moved his hand over his eyes and squinted at the task ahead.

It was a brutal slope, more mountain than molehill.  Ice dug into the dirt, forming a permafrost so thick no machine could penetrate it.  Dead grasses and flowers, icicles hanging from their decayed appendages, waited for him.  They waved in the wind, almost beckoning him to climb up to them.  And while they waved, there was no joviality in their movements.

A cold sun beat down on John, giving little warmth and little comfort.  His forehead broke out into a cold sweat, making him convulse in shivers.  He rubbed his arms and chest and hands.  What little warmth there was seeped out of his skin and evaporated.  He zipped up his leather jacket all the way, covering the lower part of his mouth.  Hot air escaping from his lips pooled around his face.  It became almost too warm; comfort was just a far away dream.

John took a step forward, crunching over the ice laced ground and smashing a dead flower under his foot.  Looking down at the squashed plant, he grinned.  His face returned to stone and he took step after step over the frozen land, over the dead and dying vegetation, each one a well fought battle to bring him an inch close to his goal.

The incline grew steeper and steeper.  John grabbed a nearby rock.  A moistness seeped into him from the cold, smooth stone.  He clawed at the rock and pushed himself up.  The rock shifted, groaning as the soil underneath fell away.  John pushed on it again.  It slid down the hill like a child on a sled.  John gazed at it and turned his head to the side as it came to a rest at the bottom.  He shrugged, grabbed onto the grass above him, and lifted himself higher.

Halfway up the hill, John stopped.  He dug his feet into the ground, turned around, and sat down.  It was a circus like balancing act he had to perform so that he wouldn’t start sliding down.  The land in front of him was barren and dry and frozen.  He stared at it with eyes that lit up the area like a lone camp fire.  Digging his hands into the soil, he tore out a chunk of the frozen land and threw it down the hill.  He watched it with so much devotion it seemed he was praying to the forsaken land.  After a couple minutes, John stood up, turned around, and resumed the ascent.

John leaned forward when the incline became near vertical.  He pushed his face into the hill, into the dead vegetation and black soil.  A smell of frozen earth, snow, and decaying leaves flowed into his nostrils.  He sneezed, shook his head, and pushed away from the hill, continuing his climb.

Another step up.  And another.  And another.  And…  His foot slipped, pushing away chunks of earth and pebbles.  Over the silent landscape, he could hear the pebbles and dirt tumble down and down.  John reached up and grabbed at whatever he could.  His right hand managed to find a bush, his left a small stone.  Clinging onto a couple rocks with the tips of his fingers as though he was in a tightrope act gone bad, John kicked his feet back into the hillside.  He groaned, kicked the hill again for good measure, and took another step up.

He was nearing the top.  Stretching out his neck, John tried to obtain a better look, even just a glance, at the summit.  John’s muscles ached and moaned, begging for him to either stop or finish the task.  The ground trembled and shook as the soil near the top grew weaker and looser.  John watched dirt fall from his clawed, near blackened hands.  A cold wind, one born from the breath of a frost giant, rushed past him.  It tried to push him off the hill, tried to make him start over again.  It howled with hurricane force intensity.  John leaned in closer to the hill and let it pass, cursing the luck and the wind and the hill and the cold.

His hand peeked over the top.  An arm came next, followed by his head and body and finally, legs.  On his hands and knees, John turned and gazed at the area he had just come from.  His eyes narrowed and his face grew red and flushed.  He wiped off a line of sweat, flicked it at the hill, and watched it fall on the dead plants, making them quiver as it rolled off their brown foliage.

John stood up.  He turned and stared at the land on the other side of the hill.  Frozen.  Barren.  More of the same.  But, there was a speck of light in the distance.  He could just make out a dancing flame throwing shadows over the low lying plants and frozen rivers.  A smile, which seemed more like a snarl, appeared on his face.  He kicked the earth, sending more dirt tumbling down the hillside.  John’s eyes were locked on the fire, on that one single flame filling the distance.  It was all he looked at, all he cared to look at.  Clenching his fist, John smashed his foot into the soil and began his descent down the other side.

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