Somebody once said that the difference between humans and animals is that while humans eat ,animals feed . In the days where humanity was prevalent, this was absolutely true, and while some humans used to eat so savagely that they appeared to be feeding, we ate. We feasted, attended dinner parties, passed plates at tables, even an intimacy was shared on the go, handing everybody their custom made meal. But now, humanity was waning and slowly, carnally, we fed.
We call ourselves 'We' or address each other as 'It' or 'Us' in the same sense that if extraterrestrial life came down from even Mars itself, they wouldn't call themselves Martians. Yes the humans call us 'zombies'. We were the few who caught the infection from the rare ones who wouldn't leave Us with enough pulse and body to stay alive, and yes we're hungry- and for human flesh.
But largely, we're inefficient. We hobble around, our speed stunted by the growing sickness, devouring who we can and moving on. Today though, I realized something I haven't considered in a very long time; we don't eat anymore! Instead,our manners have been replaced with a cannibalistic desire to greedily destroy and consume. For a while, I wondered if a cure could be found in basic etiquette. Tomorrow, I'm going to find out.
To carry out the test, I'd need to find the basic materials of one's dinner: utensils, plates and food. Nearby was a hospital; I could always go there. So I waited for the others to wander around until they eventually settled on somewhere to sit and blank out at (this was the closest we got to sleep). I made my way in, grabbing a cart that I could load onto. After an hour (We took pretty long to get stuff done these days), I had all that I needed. On my way out, surprised, I heard breathing. Inside of a patient's room, I found a sleeping human who must of thought holing up here was a good idea. I grabbed something to bludgeon him with quickly and swung as hard as I could. It hurt me to kill people, even the best way I could imagine possible, with the bludgeon, left the poor man convulsing a slow and brutal death. I threw him over my shoulder and then onto the cart to take him for the first ever orchestrated meal of the apocalypse.
——————————
A curious cloud of moans and groans filled our small camp as I kept the body hidden. They'd smell it if that sense hadn't fried a long time ago. Instead I set plates, silverware, and cups down for everybody. The cups were filled with water- a surprise to them, considering that We hadn't felt the need for it in so long, but I figured that if I was trying to conduct civility, We might as well drink as we did when we were.
"Sit," I stumbled over the word with my rotting, decomposing jaw. "Sit... plates...sit."
They understood and began filing around in the circle I had made. I went to the back and with a knife I had found on the survivor, I began cutting the tenderest of his meat into pieces. After that, I loaded his flesh to the cart (storing the brain under, as a delicacy to feast on later). I rolled the cart out and caught Them all by surprise. They began rising quickly to attack the hunks of flesh.
"No...sit," I began swatting them away.
Recognizing me as the rightful hunter and receiver of the food, they couldn't argue. They planted themselves back by their plates and waited to be served.
I took pieces and began passing them out.
"Not yet," I said while handing a chunk to each one to ensure that They didn't begin early, "Not yet."
Finally, I got to myself. I sat down and They continued to look at the food and then at me. I picked up my silverware, cut a piece of my meat and then raised it with my fork.
"Eat. Not feast. Eat"
I took a bite and They all slowly began as well, struggling with the composure that it took to resist digging into the food ravenously. They eventually got it.
"Eat," they said to each other over and over again. We were facilitating conversation!
"Eat"
"Not feast"
"Eat"
"Not"
"Feast"
"Eat"
I looked with amazement and pride. This opened a new door to the limitations of Our kind. This meant that we could gather and think. Hunt. Build. Breed. Organizing in thoughts, concerns, ideas, all over a plate of food.
"Food from where?" One of my brothers asked.
"From hospital"
"Go back. We go back."
"For feed?"
"No. Eat."
If I could smile I would.
"Brain," I pointed to the undercarriage of the cart and they all made noise excitedly. In their place, ready to be served,they looked at each other chanting.
"Eat"
"Brain"
"Hospital"
"Good"
"Eat"
"Hospital"
"Brain"
A curious cloud of moans and groans filled our small camp . Almost as if we were above the emptiness. Indeed, it was time for advancement.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Monday, May 9, 2011
The Day After Mother's Day
When Xerg returned to his home planet, the first place that he stopped into was the first bar that he could find to drown his sorrows in.
“Bruntak blood,” he told the bartender immediately. The drink was meant to be an elixir for bad spirits. Made from the animals whom were the size of two of Earth’s elephants combined with the tenacity of their lions, the animals were slain on the frosty mountains where their blood was drained. Their power was supposedly given to the men who drank it. Any sadness, fear, shame, or cowardice could be vanquished by this drink, and Xerg had all of those.
The beverage was placed on the table in a 12 ounce cup. The poor Jupitan paid the bartender and tipped his head back, downing the drink immediately. He chased the bitterness to the liquid with a sour face.
“You don’t drink much, do you?” The bartender said, wiping the counter.
“Almost never,” he said, diverting his attention to the television.
He stared at the tv, continually ordering random drinks until the door opened.
“Xerg! I’ve found you!” An old friend, Jaf , exclaimed boisterously. Wrapping his arm around him, he ordered another round.
“I haven’t seen you in so long!” His happiness still carried.
“There’s a reason for that,” Xerg sunk lower in his seat.
Jaf paused a moment, caught the severity of the moment, and his tone lowered.
“What happened, my friend? Is it earth?”
Xerg’s hand held his head, covering his eyes in shame. He didn’t want to look at Jaf when he nodded.
“What about it?”
“The Mother’s Day Project,” he said and with agony as he began his story.
“It was a perfect day when we made contact. Wherever we hit, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The sun was beating down happily on the earth and there was an occasional cooling gust of wind that would give you a pleasant smile. Had it not been for the weather and our grins from the wind tickling our faces, the earthlings might have seen us as a potential threat and attacked. But they saw our harmlessness and slowly but surely began making contact with us.
“Me being the public relations person, I approached them first. Of course they wanted to poke and prod and kill and experiment us, but I kept them at bay for the time being. I did so by organizing an event. We arrived close to a holiday- apparently one celebrating their bearer called Mother’s Day. We decided that it’d be a great idea to hold what the humans call a ‘pageant’to decide who was earth's best mother. Based on talent, love, and sweetness, Jupitans were expected to rate and decide the final winner.
“The turnout was massive. From all over the states, men and women and their mothers showed up, determined that they were destined to win. But of course, there could only be one. When all was said and done, a small humble woman from Connecticut had won the award. Loving, interesting and quaint, she was the ideal human to bestow the award upon, but that’s when things got ugly.
The crowd lost it. How could their mothers not receive the honor? Suddenly, all of the pageant members rushed the stage, grabbing for the poor woman and her son. They were like animals. Soon dismembered body parts flew from the middle of the crowd. They were literally tearing her and her son apart! Soon enough, her head was spiked, her horrified, grotesque expression batted like a volleyball around the horde. When there was no more blood, they rioted, began tearing down things, mother and son and daughter couples destroying whatever they could get their hands on. All because each and every one of them thought that they simply had the best mother ever.”
Jaf’s face was now twisted in disgust and disbelief. Xerg’s eyes remained dead set on the counter in front of him.
“I don’t know,” Xerg paused , “which one was more prevalent- their love for their mothers, or their hate for everyone.”
Jaf still remained dumbstruck. Surely his friend had had a day beyond imaginable.
“I’m sorry, Xerg.”
“If anything, I should be sorry. I could have stopped it. Used one of our devices to freeze time, I could have used one of grenades that emit paralyzing sounds to stop them right in their tracks. But I didn’t Instead, I just teleported home as fast as I could.
“It wasn’t your fight.”
Xerg nodded in agreement and almost immediately, his stress was relieved a bit. One question remained on Jaf’s mind, although the answer was obvious, he needed to hear it.
“So earth is inhabitable?”
“Uninhabitable, unstable, incommunicable. It will be destroyed tomorrow.”
Jaf nodded.
“I’ll drink to that, my friend,” the two Jupitans laughed, ordering another round of the blood of a slain beast whilst thinking of slaying another one the next day.
“Bruntak blood,” he told the bartender immediately. The drink was meant to be an elixir for bad spirits. Made from the animals whom were the size of two of Earth’s elephants combined with the tenacity of their lions, the animals were slain on the frosty mountains where their blood was drained. Their power was supposedly given to the men who drank it. Any sadness, fear, shame, or cowardice could be vanquished by this drink, and Xerg had all of those.
The beverage was placed on the table in a 12 ounce cup. The poor Jupitan paid the bartender and tipped his head back, downing the drink immediately. He chased the bitterness to the liquid with a sour face.
“You don’t drink much, do you?” The bartender said, wiping the counter.
“Almost never,” he said, diverting his attention to the television.
He stared at the tv, continually ordering random drinks until the door opened.
“Xerg! I’ve found you!” An old friend, Jaf , exclaimed boisterously. Wrapping his arm around him, he ordered another round.
“I haven’t seen you in so long!” His happiness still carried.
“There’s a reason for that,” Xerg sunk lower in his seat.
Jaf paused a moment, caught the severity of the moment, and his tone lowered.
“What happened, my friend? Is it earth?”
Xerg’s hand held his head, covering his eyes in shame. He didn’t want to look at Jaf when he nodded.
“What about it?”
“The Mother’s Day Project,” he said and with agony as he began his story.
“It was a perfect day when we made contact. Wherever we hit, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The sun was beating down happily on the earth and there was an occasional cooling gust of wind that would give you a pleasant smile. Had it not been for the weather and our grins from the wind tickling our faces, the earthlings might have seen us as a potential threat and attacked. But they saw our harmlessness and slowly but surely began making contact with us.
“Me being the public relations person, I approached them first. Of course they wanted to poke and prod and kill and experiment us, but I kept them at bay for the time being. I did so by organizing an event. We arrived close to a holiday- apparently one celebrating their bearer called Mother’s Day. We decided that it’d be a great idea to hold what the humans call a ‘pageant’to decide who was earth's best mother. Based on talent, love, and sweetness, Jupitans were expected to rate and decide the final winner.
“The turnout was massive. From all over the states, men and women and their mothers showed up, determined that they were destined to win. But of course, there could only be one. When all was said and done, a small humble woman from Connecticut had won the award. Loving, interesting and quaint, she was the ideal human to bestow the award upon, but that’s when things got ugly.
The crowd lost it. How could their mothers not receive the honor? Suddenly, all of the pageant members rushed the stage, grabbing for the poor woman and her son. They were like animals. Soon dismembered body parts flew from the middle of the crowd. They were literally tearing her and her son apart! Soon enough, her head was spiked, her horrified, grotesque expression batted like a volleyball around the horde. When there was no more blood, they rioted, began tearing down things, mother and son and daughter couples destroying whatever they could get their hands on. All because each and every one of them thought that they simply had the best mother ever.”
Jaf’s face was now twisted in disgust and disbelief. Xerg’s eyes remained dead set on the counter in front of him.
“I don’t know,” Xerg paused , “which one was more prevalent- their love for their mothers, or their hate for everyone.”
Jaf still remained dumbstruck. Surely his friend had had a day beyond imaginable.
“I’m sorry, Xerg.”
“If anything, I should be sorry. I could have stopped it. Used one of our devices to freeze time, I could have used one of grenades that emit paralyzing sounds to stop them right in their tracks. But I didn’t Instead, I just teleported home as fast as I could.
“It wasn’t your fight.”
Xerg nodded in agreement and almost immediately, his stress was relieved a bit. One question remained on Jaf’s mind, although the answer was obvious, he needed to hear it.
“So earth is inhabitable?”
“Uninhabitable, unstable, incommunicable. It will be destroyed tomorrow.”
Jaf nodded.
“I’ll drink to that, my friend,” the two Jupitans laughed, ordering another round of the blood of a slain beast whilst thinking of slaying another one the next day.
Monday, March 14, 2011
This New Short Story I Did
Is 9 pages long
It seemed way too long, so I figured I'd try to put it on a pdf, but then I realized that I wrote it completely in Google Docs so I could post it with this link, so here it is:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1PQxMkd_QChJaFQwI3d8NSHg5p_iqoxGumcw9nky7wQw/edit?hl=en&authkey=CMPa-9sJ
Feel free to throw some names out for the title, I couldn't think of one myself.
-Derrick
It seemed way too long, so I figured I'd try to put it on a pdf, but then I realized that I wrote it completely in Google Docs so I could post it with this link, so here it is:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1PQxMkd_QChJaFQwI3d8NSHg5p_iqoxGumcw9nky7wQw/edit?hl=en&authkey=CMPa-9sJ
Feel free to throw some names out for the title, I couldn't think of one myself.
-Derrick
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Ladybug Story
Maxwell slowly made his way up a blade of grass. All six legs wiggling their way up, he flew when he reached the top, hovering in the air until he found what he wanted: a leaf. A nice big leaf for him to relax on, enjoy the sun, and get away from everybody. Now an adult, he had thought the whole ‘male ladybug’ joke would have settled by now, especially considering that there were thousands and thousands of males just like him around the world, but his conflicted existence never got old to the residents in his garden. Quickly he grew tired of exclaiming his real name: Coccinellidae and trying to explain that he was a beetle like any other beetle they had met. He just wanted to be alone.
Finding the moment of solitude extremely pleasing, Maxwell planted his legs firmly on the leaf. Drifting side to side, he swayed in a peaceful unison with the wind, he wished he could stay there forever.
The thought was disrupted by a buzzing. In the distance, two of the Bee Queen’s servants were jetting towards him. Maxwell bounded off of his plan, spreading his wings and fluttering as fast as he could. Unfortunately, no matter how fast he flew, the pursuers wouldn’t wane away. Soon enough, two sets of arms wrapped around his and he stopped flying. He was at the will of the Queen’s bees and nothing would changed that.
Approaching the center of the garden had taken longer than expected. Max hadn’t realized how far he had traveled from it. His thoughts just always seemed to take him wandering to the outskirts until he would look up at the changing-colored sky and realize that it was time to return. Usually, the only time insects were seen in the exact center was when the ants found sanctum under one of the Boy’s toys. Contrarily, the center was filled with hundreds of his neighbors from the backyard. He finally spoke up.
“Um, excuse me, where are we going?” But the bees didn’t speak back, instead lowering their altitude and heading closer and closer.
A calamity of thousands of voices and languages were all being spoken amongst the different families of bugs. The bees were nosediving closer and faster to the ground until they finally found their mark, releasing Maxwell into the center of the crowd before flying away to return to following their Queen’s orders.
Max hit the floor hard, rolling several times before hitting the soft side of a worm. Though he was thankful for its presence and cushy reception to his tumbling, he was wondering what exactly it was doing there. He got back on his feet to regain his composure only to look up at thousands of eyes peering at him and him alone.
“What?” He asked with confusion.
At that moment, from the crowd stepped The Elder. The sole praying mantis of that garden, the wisdom he contained was incomparable to any other being of all of the backyard. That was why he was elected their leader and specifically gifted with no predators and instead only faithful servers.
“Hello Maxwell” his aged voice cracked.
“Well hi” every body's head around him was bowed. Max remained the only one not to do so, solely due to his immense confusion.
“I’ve been watching you for a while, Maxwell. You’ve lived quite an isolated life. But I can see it in you that you think constantly. You calculate, you plan. You’re above most of these insects in thought, in fact. It’s time for you to move on. But you have to start somewhere.”
The Elder motioned for something. Maxwell hadn't gotten any closer to clarification from the mantis’s speech until a small crown arrived. Made from twigs and spun together by an arachnid’s web, he understood what he was there for now, but didn’t exactly understand why.
“Maxwell Coccinellidae, it is with great honor that I, Elder Mantidea dub you, King of the Backyard!”
A roaring exclamation from the whole garden reverberated through the center, all of the backyard lifting Max up, carrying him to what he would find to be a throne they had crafted along with the crown. He sat there and really took in what were now his people- all of the flies and the bees in the air and the centipedes clapping all 50 sets of hands, the ants and their Queen were even present to witness the entitling of their now-omniscient leader, and who could forget the big soft worm who had cushioned his fall earlier? All his republic now. And they all asked the same question.
“What next?” One would yell.
“Yeah, what should we do?!” Another would follow.
Maxwell gave it all deep thought before finally speaking up. “Arthropods, invertebrates, and all alike, we face many potential dangers. The blades of the Man’s grass cutter, the stomping of the Boys feet through our civilization, the horrid pesticides the Woman places to prevent us from eating. Some of us have even bigger problems than that,” He tried to go for mass appeal. He figured that that statement can be related to from the worker ants who would be crushed unreasonably to the terrible torturing of the lightning bugs every summer.
“Until we have those problems fixed, I am not making any specific orders. In fact, I am your servant.” A thunderous cheer followed.
“Carry on as you please,” he instructed and they did as they were told, returning to their original posts. He soon felt the long, ridged forelegs of the elder on his back to assure him that he would in fact be a good leader. Maxwell looked on to what he had in front of him and realized his path was absolutely uncharted by anybody before, not even the mantis. He was the an underling and now he had to choose the fate of his future and people. A natural leader, he knew exactly what to do. He ventured back to his leaf to give it further contemplation.
Finding the moment of solitude extremely pleasing, Maxwell planted his legs firmly on the leaf. Drifting side to side, he swayed in a peaceful unison with the wind, he wished he could stay there forever.
The thought was disrupted by a buzzing. In the distance, two of the Bee Queen’s servants were jetting towards him. Maxwell bounded off of his plan, spreading his wings and fluttering as fast as he could. Unfortunately, no matter how fast he flew, the pursuers wouldn’t wane away. Soon enough, two sets of arms wrapped around his and he stopped flying. He was at the will of the Queen’s bees and nothing would changed that.
Approaching the center of the garden had taken longer than expected. Max hadn’t realized how far he had traveled from it. His thoughts just always seemed to take him wandering to the outskirts until he would look up at the changing-colored sky and realize that it was time to return. Usually, the only time insects were seen in the exact center was when the ants found sanctum under one of the Boy’s toys. Contrarily, the center was filled with hundreds of his neighbors from the backyard. He finally spoke up.
“Um, excuse me, where are we going?” But the bees didn’t speak back, instead lowering their altitude and heading closer and closer.
A calamity of thousands of voices and languages were all being spoken amongst the different families of bugs. The bees were nosediving closer and faster to the ground until they finally found their mark, releasing Maxwell into the center of the crowd before flying away to return to following their Queen’s orders.
Max hit the floor hard, rolling several times before hitting the soft side of a worm. Though he was thankful for its presence and cushy reception to his tumbling, he was wondering what exactly it was doing there. He got back on his feet to regain his composure only to look up at thousands of eyes peering at him and him alone.
“What?” He asked with confusion.
At that moment, from the crowd stepped The Elder. The sole praying mantis of that garden, the wisdom he contained was incomparable to any other being of all of the backyard. That was why he was elected their leader and specifically gifted with no predators and instead only faithful servers.
“Hello Maxwell” his aged voice cracked.
“Well hi” every body's head around him was bowed. Max remained the only one not to do so, solely due to his immense confusion.
“I’ve been watching you for a while, Maxwell. You’ve lived quite an isolated life. But I can see it in you that you think constantly. You calculate, you plan. You’re above most of these insects in thought, in fact. It’s time for you to move on. But you have to start somewhere.”
The Elder motioned for something. Maxwell hadn't gotten any closer to clarification from the mantis’s speech until a small crown arrived. Made from twigs and spun together by an arachnid’s web, he understood what he was there for now, but didn’t exactly understand why.
“Maxwell Coccinellidae, it is with great honor that I, Elder Mantidea dub you, King of the Backyard!”
A roaring exclamation from the whole garden reverberated through the center, all of the backyard lifting Max up, carrying him to what he would find to be a throne they had crafted along with the crown. He sat there and really took in what were now his people- all of the flies and the bees in the air and the centipedes clapping all 50 sets of hands, the ants and their Queen were even present to witness the entitling of their now-omniscient leader, and who could forget the big soft worm who had cushioned his fall earlier? All his republic now. And they all asked the same question.
“What next?” One would yell.
“Yeah, what should we do?!” Another would follow.
Maxwell gave it all deep thought before finally speaking up. “Arthropods, invertebrates, and all alike, we face many potential dangers. The blades of the Man’s grass cutter, the stomping of the Boys feet through our civilization, the horrid pesticides the Woman places to prevent us from eating. Some of us have even bigger problems than that,” He tried to go for mass appeal. He figured that that statement can be related to from the worker ants who would be crushed unreasonably to the terrible torturing of the lightning bugs every summer.
“Until we have those problems fixed, I am not making any specific orders. In fact, I am your servant.” A thunderous cheer followed.
“Carry on as you please,” he instructed and they did as they were told, returning to their original posts. He soon felt the long, ridged forelegs of the elder on his back to assure him that he would in fact be a good leader. Maxwell looked on to what he had in front of him and realized his path was absolutely uncharted by anybody before, not even the mantis. He was the an underling and now he had to choose the fate of his future and people. A natural leader, he knew exactly what to do. He ventured back to his leaf to give it further contemplation.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
It's Amazing (75th Post Party!)
On the ship, Xing and Clamp went over their findings before they were to return them. It had been over two decades since their race had occupied and dominated earth and now they were finally archiving humankind’s history. Whether it was an act of kindness and remembrance for their defeated counterpart or an insult to them was still indistinguishable at this point. Nonetheless, they continued, dragging the earth’s monuments, tools,and documents back to their motherplanet.
Today had been a document day. Crate after crate had been collected and archived in the ship and Xing and Clamp decided they were going to sift through it themselves in curiosity. Immediately they found the arrangement of works to be in an odd order. There were private government documents (of course), instruction manuals and dioramas, historical documents, pictures, and then a set of crates they hadn’t even acknowledged picking up, titled:Collected Works of the Literary Greats.
With their ship on autopilot, in a half an hour, Xing and Clamp had read dozens of books. With their heightened photographic memories gifted to them by their ancestors, all they had to do was open and look at each page for a few seconds before fully comprehending what they were reading. This made the act of ingesting material a fairly remedial task. With about 4 hours left until they got home, they figured that they could have at least half if not more of the world’s composed works done by then.
“So fascinating,” Clamp finally chimed in. “The pieces are so detailed in terms of imagery and metaphors. What do you think the purpose of these writings were?”
“Entertainment, I suppose,” Xing said flipping and finishing through the last 50 pages of the novel he was on. “Does a fine job of entertaining me.”
It was after a long silence and a few more hours, Clamp spoke up again. “ It’s fascinating indeed, but why didn’t they just have this man do all of the writing,” he held up the John Steinbeck novel. “Clearly he was the best at writing.” Xing shook his head, holding up one of Vonnegut’s works. “You must be confused, I found this man to be the best author.”
They paused. Never had they found themselves varying in opinion. Their race had had their thoughts all streamlined together centuries ago. How could this be happening? Their eyebrows raised. This was certainly an intriguing new form of entertainment from the humans. “Clamp, reroute the ships autopilot to delay us a few hours,” Xing instructed. “I want to know what makes these pieces so special.” Clamp was obliged to do so. Re-routing their course, he began reading what earthlings called ‘contemporary works’ and wondered if possibly he could produce something as wonderful as these novels himself one day.
Today had been a document day. Crate after crate had been collected and archived in the ship and Xing and Clamp decided they were going to sift through it themselves in curiosity. Immediately they found the arrangement of works to be in an odd order. There were private government documents (of course), instruction manuals and dioramas, historical documents, pictures, and then a set of crates they hadn’t even acknowledged picking up, titled:Collected Works of the Literary Greats.
With their ship on autopilot, in a half an hour, Xing and Clamp had read dozens of books. With their heightened photographic memories gifted to them by their ancestors, all they had to do was open and look at each page for a few seconds before fully comprehending what they were reading. This made the act of ingesting material a fairly remedial task. With about 4 hours left until they got home, they figured that they could have at least half if not more of the world’s composed works done by then.
“So fascinating,” Clamp finally chimed in. “The pieces are so detailed in terms of imagery and metaphors. What do you think the purpose of these writings were?”
“Entertainment, I suppose,” Xing said flipping and finishing through the last 50 pages of the novel he was on. “Does a fine job of entertaining me.”
It was after a long silence and a few more hours, Clamp spoke up again. “ It’s fascinating indeed, but why didn’t they just have this man do all of the writing,” he held up the John Steinbeck novel. “Clearly he was the best at writing.” Xing shook his head, holding up one of Vonnegut’s works. “You must be confused, I found this man to be the best author.”
They paused. Never had they found themselves varying in opinion. Their race had had their thoughts all streamlined together centuries ago. How could this be happening? Their eyebrows raised. This was certainly an intriguing new form of entertainment from the humans. “Clamp, reroute the ships autopilot to delay us a few hours,” Xing instructed. “I want to know what makes these pieces so special.” Clamp was obliged to do so. Re-routing their course, he began reading what earthlings called ‘contemporary works’ and wondered if possibly he could produce something as wonderful as these novels himself one day.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Does everything after this halt?
On a cold ground, I felt a constant,distant rumbling. Was I inside a dragons belly? Was it an aftershock of a bomb, rippling its way to me? Was a cavalry furiously charging to my unknown destination? Deep in though, I finally told myself: go see for yourself, dummy.
Rising up with my hands, I felt pebbles and sediment with my palms. I opened my eyes to find that it was only a bit lighter than when they were closed. Was I in a cave? I stood off of my knees and examined my surroundings more thoroughly. Turning around, I saw the bright exit and headed towards it.
To my amazement, I found that I wasn't in a cave, but instead a cove. The rumbling that I had heard was a glistening clear sea, clashing to and then receding away from the coast. A small dirt path led to the beach which I began walking towards. The sand alerted me that I was barefoot, its soothing warmth leading me to the shore with every sinking step. The temperature cooled as I got closer to the water until I finally dived in. Clothes and all, I rolled , laughing, splashing and allowing the current to take me away.
After a while of playing, I allowed myself to float. With a huge smile on my face, I didn't know how I got here or how I'd find my way out. But with an eternal sense of satisfaction, I realized I didn't care and floated away. This was way better than the chemo I'd been receiving.
Rising up with my hands, I felt pebbles and sediment with my palms. I opened my eyes to find that it was only a bit lighter than when they were closed. Was I in a cave? I stood off of my knees and examined my surroundings more thoroughly. Turning around, I saw the bright exit and headed towards it.
To my amazement, I found that I wasn't in a cave, but instead a cove. The rumbling that I had heard was a glistening clear sea, clashing to and then receding away from the coast. A small dirt path led to the beach which I began walking towards. The sand alerted me that I was barefoot, its soothing warmth leading me to the shore with every sinking step. The temperature cooled as I got closer to the water until I finally dived in. Clothes and all, I rolled , laughing, splashing and allowing the current to take me away.
After a while of playing, I allowed myself to float. With a huge smile on my face, I didn't know how I got here or how I'd find my way out. But with an eternal sense of satisfaction, I realized I didn't care and floated away. This was way better than the chemo I'd been receiving.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Hospital Beds
The absolute first thing that I realized was that my hair was gone. I myself can admit that I never kept it as beautiful or as stylish as I could have, in fact, I had tons of split ends and I always had my hair in a bun. But my hair was nonetheless mine but after waking up to run my palm against the smooth skin of my scalp, I would have cried if I had not found myself in such a peculiar situation. I realized after rubbing my head that my wedding ring had been taken off of my finger. Furthermore, my other jewelry was missing: my bracelets, my earrings, my necklace with 'Melissa' engraved into it given to me by my mother. This, like my hair, was also finally eclipsed by the last peculiar fact of the situation: my body ached and without any explanation, I was in a hospital.
The hospital also seemed odd to me. Its facade seemed dingy, unlike the ones I'd been used to. That's when I realized shamefully that I couldn't distinguish whether or not this was a regular hospital that regular people went to. I was so used to top notch service, brightly lit rooms and a large HDTV or at least something orchestral playing on the radio to soothe the soul. What I woke to was dim lighting, a small TV on the wall and an eerie empty hallway.
Not a second later, a doctor and his assistant appeared. Judging from their garb, I could immediately recognize regardless of social status that they were not doctors. They wore the masks pre-surgery, didn't have name tags and wore tattered uniforms. Nonetheless, I figured they had more information on my position than I did, so I began my questioning. They quickly realized their errors and lowered their masks from their faces to greet me.
"Hello Mrs. Parrish."
“Hello gentlemen. It seems that I have suffered some memory loss. Can you tell me why I'm here?"
They looked at each other waiting for one another to step up and provide an excuse.
“You were in a car accident.”
“Oh, dear.” I tried very hard to contain my smile. I couldn’t tell if I was about to do it out of fear or pity. “Well could you explain what happened to my hair?”
“Yes.” The other answered surprisingly fast. “It caught on fire in the accident; we had to shave it off.”
I had felt my scalp already. The headache was internal. I had no burns, 1st 2nd or 3rd degree.
“Well what do we do now?”
Sweat began to form at the one’s brow. Another bit the inside of his cheek.
“We have to perform surgery.”
“Do you have the instruments in order to do so?”
“Of course.” There was a silence between me and them. For completely different reasons, though. They themselves were idiots- they didn’t know what they were supposed to do. I was so hushed because although I knew they weren’t doctors, I wasn’t so sure that they didn’t have surgical tools.
“Ma’am, we have everything you need,” He tried to reassure me. “Syringes, bandages, scalp holes.”
Did he just call a scalpel a scalp hole?
Yes he did.
They’re going to kill me.
They’re really going to kill me.
The other one smiled, yellow, crooked teeth, as if he knew that I knew what was going on.
I have to get out of here.
They seemed to be edging closer and closer to me. When I rose up, one of them revealed that he had said scalpel in hand.
I’d have to fight my way out.
Another prompt from that sci-fi site made by that Mush Face character
The hospital also seemed odd to me. Its facade seemed dingy, unlike the ones I'd been used to. That's when I realized shamefully that I couldn't distinguish whether or not this was a regular hospital that regular people went to. I was so used to top notch service, brightly lit rooms and a large HDTV or at least something orchestral playing on the radio to soothe the soul. What I woke to was dim lighting, a small TV on the wall and an eerie empty hallway.
Not a second later, a doctor and his assistant appeared. Judging from their garb, I could immediately recognize regardless of social status that they were not doctors. They wore the masks pre-surgery, didn't have name tags and wore tattered uniforms. Nonetheless, I figured they had more information on my position than I did, so I began my questioning. They quickly realized their errors and lowered their masks from their faces to greet me.
"Hello Mrs. Parrish."
“Hello gentlemen. It seems that I have suffered some memory loss. Can you tell me why I'm here?"
They looked at each other waiting for one another to step up and provide an excuse.
“You were in a car accident.”
“Oh, dear.” I tried very hard to contain my smile. I couldn’t tell if I was about to do it out of fear or pity. “Well could you explain what happened to my hair?”
“Yes.” The other answered surprisingly fast. “It caught on fire in the accident; we had to shave it off.”
I had felt my scalp already. The headache was internal. I had no burns, 1st 2nd or 3rd degree.
“Well what do we do now?”
Sweat began to form at the one’s brow. Another bit the inside of his cheek.
“We have to perform surgery.”
“Do you have the instruments in order to do so?”
“Of course.” There was a silence between me and them. For completely different reasons, though. They themselves were idiots- they didn’t know what they were supposed to do. I was so hushed because although I knew they weren’t doctors, I wasn’t so sure that they didn’t have surgical tools.
“Ma’am, we have everything you need,” He tried to reassure me. “Syringes, bandages, scalp holes.”
Did he just call a scalpel a scalp hole?
Yes he did.
They’re going to kill me.
They’re really going to kill me.
The other one smiled, yellow, crooked teeth, as if he knew that I knew what was going on.
I have to get out of here.
They seemed to be edging closer and closer to me. When I rose up, one of them revealed that he had said scalpel in hand.
I’d have to fight my way out.
Another prompt from that sci-fi site made by that Mush Face character
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