Nick Richardson
Fiction Writing 205
“where were you last night?” Sean, a stoner surfer asked.
“you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” replied Bryan, a stoner surfer bum.
Bryan and Sean were bartenders at a local bar in a beach front town. Sean had the night off and decided to go to see a paraplegic Korean James Brown impersonator at a local karaoke bar down the road from the one he worked at. The singer was tone deaf, had a large vascular upper body and made up for his lack of legs with an overly exuberant flailing of his arms, but this only made the performance so much more perversely ironic…and Sean would’ve died happy that night if it weren’t for his half sister, Laura, showing up with his ex-girlfriend, Shania twain, who dumped him for Laura several months prior to this night. The last time Laura and Sean ran into each other they got into an altercation and Sean ended up in the ER with two broken ribs, a busted nose, a black eye and a burst right testicul. Laura trained as a mixed martial arts fighter for several years, after high school, and won several small competitions. Sean feels a sharp pain in his pride and crotch as he leaves through the back door.
“So I had to work with Nate last night“ starts up Bryan. “I showed up at like seven thirty- eight o‘clock. And we were working the inside bar cuz well god was pissin hard last night so no one felt like opening the deck bar. So I get in and it was a quiet night only like twenty five thirty inside. I walk behind the bar clock in and Nate comes up to me and shows me a bottle of firefly 4/5th’s empty.” And so proudly states, “to my head kid! To my fuckin’ head!’”
“Fuckin lush” Sean replies.
“I know right!” The guy needs AA worse than Frank Garry needs to learn how to draw a straight line.”
Sean chuckles. “So he’s been drinking since open and I’m just trying to imagine how bad this night will go. We actually were alright for like the first half an hour until these three cougars stroll in and order like four cosmos each.”
“fuckin bitches” Sean chimed in again.
“Seriously, so anyway they start getting faced and Nate starts chatting them up, then they start doing shots together with him! He became a complete stumbling jabawakee so I took over all his tabs. About twenty minutes or so after the shots I’m down at the end of the bar I turn around and Nate is making out with this chick who’s old enough to be his mom! I was about to yell at him to get off the bar but then the other two women started stripping in the middle of the bar so I had to take care of that.”
“ya hosed em”
“I fuckin hosed em! but then chuck booze walks in wearing a telli tubby outfit like a real Telli Tuby outfit, no joke, including the hat and then HE starts getting in the mix. So now I’ve got two middle aged half naked soaking wet women dancing with a giant stuffed animal!! but I cant kick them out because Nate wanted them to stay and I needed a good tip out so I just grit my teeth.”
“Fuck dude.” A typical two word response from Sean.
Bryan lights up a cigarette jittering from agitation and Sean does the same but with a joint. “So I think the night cant get any worse…I was wrong. I try to keep the other custi’s appeased and so I feed em a few on the house. Nate calmed down for a minute and started doing his job. So I went outside to have a cig. I didn’t even take two drags and then Nate and that woman blow out the door next to me literally hurdle two bushes and jump in his car with in seconds and I hear what sounds like a wildebeest and a blue whale fighting over the last hot pocket!”
“what?!! Haha that was the weirdest analogy I’ve ever heard but cudos to the effort.”
“so I go inside and the wet and the dancing has receded a bit I apologize for nates behavior to the ones just trying to have drink and a quiet clothed night. - I make myself shift drink. A half an hour goes by and the forbidden lovers stroll in covered in toilet paper! They looked like a couple drunk mummies!!
“TP?! Where the fuck did they get that?”
“I don’t know! maybe they stopped by stopped by CVS between tummy puddles.”
They both cringe with the thought of a distorted version of Mrs. Robinson.
Nate gets behind the bar goes down to the end and starts taking drink orders, while sparsely covered in a biodegradable body turban. I turn around to see if anyone needs anything turn back to Nate taking an order while PISSING in the sink at the end of the bar!! [WHAT the fuck Nate!!] I yelled. Thank god no one noticed. He finished up and straight jumps over the bar and kicks out the remaining people in the bar. I thought, thank god Ill close up and I can get out of here. I bring back the bar mats and when I come back everyone’s gone the drawer is cleared out the tip pool is empty and the place wreaks of piss, shame and anger…but mostly booze, and wet dog probably from the telli tubby outfit. I didn’t even bother to clean I just locked up and left.. . So how was your night?”
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Cindy's story for discussion on 10/29
Self Reflection
By Cynthia Limoges
Words cannot describe the hate I feel. Ever since the beginning of this meaningless relationship it’s been nothing but lies and deceit. You ask yourself, when? When will the lies stop? When will the pain and suffering stop? When will you grow the courage to just simply say, No…No more…I will no longer tolerate your bull shit anymore. Much like the cries of victims suffering through pure mental torture, when there’s no escape to their deep darkest secrets of fear that live within their heads, their hearts, their souls. It’s merely a viscous cycle that will never come to an end until they face their fears. Look…look at yourself you sorry son of a bitch. Face yourself in the mirror and tell me do you really like what you see? Do you really know who you are? Do you really know what you want? God if I could only stop thinking for once, I just want to be free… free from this demented mind that continuously plays out like a broken record. I can’t help but wonder if it’s truly the person I hate or do I really hate myself? This voice, it speaks to me…What? I can’t quite hear you? What is it that you’re trying to tell me? Is it code for something that will lead me to freedom, freedom from my own hell and self pity? There it is again…I feel the hairs on my neck stand, it’s actually freaking me out. Please just leave me alone, go away. I want to hear from no one, I just want to be left alone. I fear this voice that comes to me. But alone… there’s a concept…Alone. Am I afraid to be alone? Aren’t we all? I think its fear of the unknown, the simple question of what if that lingers in my head. What if…a phrase that I cannot fathom nor accept. I can justify the what if, it’s just not good enough. I just don’t get it. Maybe if I take these scissors and just cut, that’s it…that will take the pain away...its stings, the blood; I didn’t expect so much blood. I can feel my leg throbbing as if my heart was sitting on my lap and I’m watching the blood pump out of it. Stop your fucking weeping, that’s all you do is cry, cry, cry. Why don’t you really handle the situation? How do I handle the situation, or is there even a situation. I feel nothing but hurt and I’m convinced nothing will take it away. I feel like such a hypocrite, I’m suffering myself yet everyone expects me to hold it together…be the strong one. I’m sick of being strong; you mean continue to live a lie just as you have always lied to me. You sit there with such a straight face and have the audacity to continue to lie. You feed your lies as if they were humans and you need them to survive. Do you have no mercy, no heart or is your heart that stone cold? Every time you speak, it’s such evil, it’s hissing from a snakes mouth. I can’t stand you, you did this to me and I allowed it to come this far. I hate you, I hate me! Nothing will save me from this pain and misery! I seek the truth, I seek peace, I seek freedom from all of this hate. My hands are shaking; I can feel and hear the blood rushing through my body. I’ve never thought so clearly. I hold it to my head; I wonder if my mind will continue to think after it’s over. Will I still suffer or will I be condemned to hell for eternity and burn for my sin. There it is again, the what if. I can’t take it anymore, I squeeze my eyes shut, my finger ever so gently squeezes…Silence….My ears are ringing, I feel my body hit the floor; my thoughts are raising, the voice…I recognize the voice, it’s the voice that’s haunted me for years…it’s my guardian angel, it was he who was trying to protect me. Silence, I see darkness but my mind is still thinking. I’m tired now I think I’ll just…..
By Cynthia Limoges
Words cannot describe the hate I feel. Ever since the beginning of this meaningless relationship it’s been nothing but lies and deceit. You ask yourself, when? When will the lies stop? When will the pain and suffering stop? When will you grow the courage to just simply say, No…No more…I will no longer tolerate your bull shit anymore. Much like the cries of victims suffering through pure mental torture, when there’s no escape to their deep darkest secrets of fear that live within their heads, their hearts, their souls. It’s merely a viscous cycle that will never come to an end until they face their fears. Look…look at yourself you sorry son of a bitch. Face yourself in the mirror and tell me do you really like what you see? Do you really know who you are? Do you really know what you want? God if I could only stop thinking for once, I just want to be free… free from this demented mind that continuously plays out like a broken record. I can’t help but wonder if it’s truly the person I hate or do I really hate myself? This voice, it speaks to me…What? I can’t quite hear you? What is it that you’re trying to tell me? Is it code for something that will lead me to freedom, freedom from my own hell and self pity? There it is again…I feel the hairs on my neck stand, it’s actually freaking me out. Please just leave me alone, go away. I want to hear from no one, I just want to be left alone. I fear this voice that comes to me. But alone… there’s a concept…Alone. Am I afraid to be alone? Aren’t we all? I think its fear of the unknown, the simple question of what if that lingers in my head. What if…a phrase that I cannot fathom nor accept. I can justify the what if, it’s just not good enough. I just don’t get it. Maybe if I take these scissors and just cut, that’s it…that will take the pain away...its stings, the blood; I didn’t expect so much blood. I can feel my leg throbbing as if my heart was sitting on my lap and I’m watching the blood pump out of it. Stop your fucking weeping, that’s all you do is cry, cry, cry. Why don’t you really handle the situation? How do I handle the situation, or is there even a situation. I feel nothing but hurt and I’m convinced nothing will take it away. I feel like such a hypocrite, I’m suffering myself yet everyone expects me to hold it together…be the strong one. I’m sick of being strong; you mean continue to live a lie just as you have always lied to me. You sit there with such a straight face and have the audacity to continue to lie. You feed your lies as if they were humans and you need them to survive. Do you have no mercy, no heart or is your heart that stone cold? Every time you speak, it’s such evil, it’s hissing from a snakes mouth. I can’t stand you, you did this to me and I allowed it to come this far. I hate you, I hate me! Nothing will save me from this pain and misery! I seek the truth, I seek peace, I seek freedom from all of this hate. My hands are shaking; I can feel and hear the blood rushing through my body. I’ve never thought so clearly. I hold it to my head; I wonder if my mind will continue to think after it’s over. Will I still suffer or will I be condemned to hell for eternity and burn for my sin. There it is again, the what if. I can’t take it anymore, I squeeze my eyes shut, my finger ever so gently squeezes…Silence….My ears are ringing, I feel my body hit the floor; my thoughts are raising, the voice…I recognize the voice, it’s the voice that’s haunted me for years…it’s my guardian angel, it was he who was trying to protect me. Silence, I see darkness but my mind is still thinking. I’m tired now I think I’ll just…..
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Writing Prompt for 10/29: Creative Eavesdropping
This is a continuation of the Image Notebook assignment from a few weeks back. Bring a notebook (laptop, phone, matchbook, cocktail napkin...) with you to a public place. Listen in on bits of conversation: how people talk. Write down any exchanges that strike you as intriguing, dramatic, funny or bizarre. Then, use these "found" conversations as dialog in a story or short scene (around 500 words).
Dialog can move a story along, and the way people talk can define their character. Developing an ear for the rhythms of real-life conversation will help you write better, more natural dialog.
Dialog can move a story along, and the way people talk can define their character. Developing an ear for the rhythms of real-life conversation will help you write better, more natural dialog.
Reminder - Midterm, 10/22/09
Just a reminder that we are having an in-class midterm on Thursday, 10/22/09. It is a combination of multiple choice and short answer questions and one writing exercise. Also due on 10/22 are writing assignments from last week (response to reading OR character in crisis story) and the week before (point of view exercise).
If anyone has questions or will not be in class for the midterm, please email me at kathrynka (at) yahoo.com.
Otherwise, see you soon!
If anyone has questions or will not be in class for the midterm, please email me at kathrynka (at) yahoo.com.
Otherwise, see you soon!
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Reading from "What If?" for October 15
To go along with the point of view exercise due next week, please also read Part Four in What If? (pages 87-99). You don't need to do the additional writing exercises that are part of these chapters--just the one that is posted (The Unstable Self--first and third person narration).
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Reading and Writing Prompt for Thursday, 10/15
Take-Home Writing Exercise – due 10/15
The Unstable Self (adapted from The 3 a.m. Epiphany by Brian Kiteley)
Write a story that alternates between the I and the he or she (or the name of the narrator), making sure you don’t confuse the reader with the switches. In other words, the story is told from one person’s point of view, yet alternates first person narration with third (or second) person.
Consider different ways of indicating instability or division: journal entries, letters, voices (in italics), commands or out-of-body perspectives. (500 words)
For one example of how to use this technique, read the story “Electric Feel” by Bre Kidman, published in Newport Review magazine:
http://newportreview.org/?new-voices/bkidman.html
The Unstable Self (adapted from The 3 a.m. Epiphany by Brian Kiteley)
Write a story that alternates between the I and the he or she (or the name of the narrator), making sure you don’t confuse the reader with the switches. In other words, the story is told from one person’s point of view, yet alternates first person narration with third (or second) person.
Consider different ways of indicating instability or division: journal entries, letters, voices (in italics), commands or out-of-body perspectives. (500 words)
For one example of how to use this technique, read the story “Electric Feel” by Bre Kidman, published in Newport Review magazine:
http://newportreview.org/?new-voices/bkidman.html
Monday, October 5, 2009
Story for Class Discussion, 10/8
Here is a new story by Melanie. Please print out a copy and bring it with you to class on Thursday.
This is the first day of my life. Yesterday doesn’t exist and tomorrow holds the world. The past is just a memory. A meaningless memory. If only if only if only. I always find myself wishing if only. If only it never happened.
It was summer. The city is always ridiculously hot in the summer. The sun is inescapable even in the shadows of the buildings. The heat from the pavement is visible on days like today. It was a good day for a run. Maybe I’m just into self-torture. Maybe I just enjoyed running in ninety-something degree weather through crowds of tourists. I liked running past the buildings which hold corporate America on a high pedestal. Past the old overpriced theaters and fancy expensive boutiques that I could never afford. My feet always took me to the familiar neighborhood in the poor section of the city. The neighborhood where everything happened. I could smell the familiar smell of the local steak house mixed with the aroma of piss and sweat. It was mid-July and summer was at its peak. The sun beat down on my sweaty forehead while I wandered into the apartment building I had grown to know so well. Why was I here? Why couldn’t I just let go?
I felt it happening. I felt myself slipping away. I felt paralyzed even though my body was moving. I was no longer in control. All I could do was watch nervously through my eyes, hoping that this wouldn’t get me into too much trouble. It always feels like a movie when this happen. It feels like when the camera is showing what a person in the movie sees, from their point of view. My body led me towards the stairs. It walked up several flights when a person that I recognized opened the door on one of the floors.
“Oh shit, Daniel fuckin’ Jameson! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Mary yelled. Apparently, whoever was controlling my body didn’t care for Mary. I watched as my body walked right past her without acknowledging her at all.
“Are you alright? You look a bit…dazed,” Mary said. I just kept walking.
“Okay then, don’t say hi,” Mary replied sounding irritated as she walked off. My feet kept pulling me forward. A voice that sounded nothing like mine slipped from my mouth without warning.
“Bad bad bad,” the voice said. It sounded like that of a child. It sounded like a young boy who was in trouble. It was desperate. My vision slowly went black as the memories began pouring into my mind. I could no longer see what my body was doing. The last source of light slowly dimmed like a dying flashlight. I struggled to hold onto that last glimpse of light but it faded until it was gone and I couldn’t get it back. A tall brunette man with pale skin appeared in front of me. He was beautiful. His pale skin shined and his icy blue eyes pierced mine. I couldn’t look away even though I knew his looks were just a fucked up distraction for who he really was. He was much taller than me and he began to speak with a deep, harsh voice.
“You know you’re a pretty boy,” he told me. I looked at him as he walked closer to me. My stomach churned. He was my father’s age. I was seven. I stared into those gorgeous frightening eyes.
“No,” I whispered in the voice of a child. He towered above me as he got closer and closer. I closed my eyes as his hand reached down and touched my face. This was something I preferred not to see or remember though I was quite accustomed to the process. I let it happen without any sort of struggle. There was no point in struggling. That was what he wanted. I gave up on struggling long ago. I felt weight slowly press on my small body.
I woke up in a small apartment bedroom with pictures of famous celebrities on the wall. This was a room I knew well. My head throbbed so hard I thought it would explode. The pain was overwhelming. I lifted myself up off the floral bedding and sat on the edge of the bed. I looked at my shoes and tried to forget the memory I had forgotten for so long. It dominated my thoughts. Why could I forget it for so long but now it was all I could think about? I took a deep breath and pulled myself off the bed. I glanced around the room. There weren’t many changes since I was here last. There were more pictures of me on the wall. I looked at my smiling face and my icy blue eyes, feeling strange. I hardly recognized that boy anymore. I looked away quickly and slowly walked towards the bedroom door.
“How have you been?” Mary asked as I walked out of her bedroom and sat next to her on her beat up brown leather couch. I shrugged.
“I’ve been better,” I said. I sighed, still feeling my pulsating headache. She began telling me about all the fun she’s had since we last saw each other about a month ago. She had been on a trip around Europe. She told me about Paris and all the bitchy Parisian women who refused her service at this one restaurant. She old me about the prostitutes in Amsterdam, the pints in Germany, the bull fights in Spain. I tried to listen but my headache was overwhelming. I just sat there looking around her small apartment as she rambled on. There were pictures of me and her and our other friends on the walls.
I suddenly felt happy for the first time in weeks. I smiled at Mary. I had missed her. She loved me even though I was crazy.
Mary and I talked on the couch for a while. My mind grew tired and my thoughts began to wander. I knew something bad was about to happen. I felt relaxed yet anxious, happy yet sad, and nervous yet brave at the same time. Everything was moving so fast and my mind couldn’t even process anything. I felt as though I had just downed an entire bottle of Barcardi.
A knock on the door brought me back to reality. Mary opened the door and I immediately recognized who it was. Mary’s boyfriend. She introduced us, but we didn’t need any introduction. I knew he was an insensitive, masochistic, pretentious jerk. I couldn’t even look at him without feeling a deep hatred. I wanted to go away. He knew all about my past and I knew he would tell Mary. I hated people knowing the truth about me. When they know everything they start to judge. My face felt hot and my insides felt like they were going to explode. I felt so ridiculously uncomfortable I wanted to scream and cry. I was enraged and I knew it. My focus started to blur and dim. I knew it was happening again. I fought internally to stop it from happening but it was too late. My body was paralyzed again. Whoever was controlling my body looked down at my clenched fist. I no longer felt the anger but I knew whoever was controlling me did. They looked up at Mary and her boyfriend. Jealousy enraged the person inside me. My heart raced and my body shook. My eyes shifted in every direction and things started moving. Mary’s boyfriend was sitting close to her on the couch near me. It made me nervous. I didn’t want Mary next to someone who was such a fucking criminal. I could now feel what the person inside me was feeling. The overwhelming sensation of hate and anger took over my body as it let out an angry scream.
“Chill out,” Mary’s boyfriend said to whoever was controlling my body. I sat watching, unable to move. My body was turning redder and redder as my blood grew hot with rage. They didn’t seem to notice. I hated it. I hated it. I hated it. The light started to dim and I knew I was about to have a memory as whoever was in control of my body did as they pleased with me and anyone else that was around me. I couldn’t let that happen. I pushed harder than I ever had before to keep that light on. I needed to focus on what was current reality. I felt a feeling that I knew too well; a feeling of desperation to get vengeance on this son of a bitch who was sitting far too close to me. His father was the beautiful man that haunted my mind. His father was responsible for the way I was.
I sat there in silence as they laughed and joked. I wanted to regain control. I wanted to scream and cry and tell him what I really thought about him and his gorgeous father who made my life unbearable. What he did to me can not be forgotten, erased, or taken back. I wanted to be in control again. I pushed hard and struggled to regain control. The feeling in my body was slowly returning. It felt as though I had been outside in the dead of winter and grew numb from the cold and now I was thawing out. The feeling trickled over my body. I was able to blink. I was able to look around. My body was in my control again. I slowly stood up and walked into the kitchen. I went to the refrigerator for a drink. I grabbed a can of soda and opened it.
Mary and her boyfriend walked into the room. I smiled and put my soda on the counter.
“Hello, fuckbag,” I said to Mary’s boyfriend. He stared at me in disbelief. I smiled at him. I turned my back on him and Mary and opened one of the drawers. I knew what was in each of these drawers and I knew what I was going to get. He knew too. He knew these kinds of games well. After all, he was his father.
“Dan, what are you doing?” Mary’s boyfriend asked me calmly as he walked towards me. I turned around and smiled. My arms were at my side. He saw what I had in my right hand.
“Nothing, pretty boy,” I said to him. He looked just like his father. He sounded just like his father.
“Dan, I know what happened and it’s not my fault. It’s not your fault either. We should just talk,” he said calmly. I didn’t care. I was bent on revenge. It was the only way. It was the only way I would be free.
“Stop, Danny,” Mary choked out desperately as I stepped towards them. He walked towards me as well, asking me to stop, to put it down. Telling me he wasn’t his father and he wanted to be my friend. I didn’t care. He had ruined my life, and now I would ruin his. I turned and faced them. I looked into his eyes and I could see his father in them. They had the same icy shade of blue with heavy lids. I was scared and nervous and angry. I needed to do this.
Mary screamed at me to put the knife down. She told me not to do it. She begged; but I couldn’t let this opportunity to fix my life get away. He backed up, looking into my eyes. He asked if I wanted to talk to him. I shook my head as I continued to walk towards him. I laughed. He knew what was coming. This would be my chance to make my life right again. I would free myself from my past. I would kill this son of a pedophile scumbag who would never understand what I went through.
I stepped toward him slowly. There was very little room for him to escape. I knew he was about to make a run for it, but I was too clever for him. He dashed to the left, trying to get around me. I reached forward and grabbed his shoulder. He turned around and I put the knife into his stomach. He fell on his knees. I bent down and removed the knife. I smiled and stabbed him again and again and again as life left his face. The noises he made sounded familiar. I had heard them before. Life left his face.
Mary cried and screamed as I stood over her dead boyfriend. She picked up her cell phone and called 911. She cried and screamed hysterically into the phone telling them someone was just killed in her apartment. There was nothing that could save him now.
The blood formed a pool around his body. I had saved Mary from her crazy fuckbag of a boyfriend. I finally got my revenge. A knock on the door interrupted my train of thought. Two police officers let themselves in. Four EMTs followed them with a stretcher. One of the police officers approached Mary to comfort her. She was too hysterical to tell them what had happened just yet. The officer made Mary sit on the couch. Several forensic photographers entered the room. I stood there staring as the men began taking pictures of the scene for later investigation. I guess it’s important to have evidence. They didn’t seem to notice me. One of the EMTs covered Mary’s boyfriend with a body bag. They lifted him onto a stretcher and carried him out of the apartment. Everything was happening so fast. Mary continued to cry. The police officer tried to console her. The other police officer wanted to help but he needed to question her about what had happened.
“What was your relationship to the victim?” he asked.
“He was my boyfriend,” Mary replied. I stared at her. She looked down, still crying really hard. She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand.
“What was his name?” the police officer asked. She paused and looked in my direction, looking through me her eyes soaked with tears. She sniffed and took a deep breath.
“Daniel,” she replied. “Daniel Jameson.”
This is the first day of my life. Yesterday doesn’t exist and tomorrow holds the world. The past is just a memory. A meaningless memory. If only if only if only. I always find myself wishing if only. If only it never happened.
It was summer. The city is always ridiculously hot in the summer. The sun is inescapable even in the shadows of the buildings. The heat from the pavement is visible on days like today. It was a good day for a run. Maybe I’m just into self-torture. Maybe I just enjoyed running in ninety-something degree weather through crowds of tourists. I liked running past the buildings which hold corporate America on a high pedestal. Past the old overpriced theaters and fancy expensive boutiques that I could never afford. My feet always took me to the familiar neighborhood in the poor section of the city. The neighborhood where everything happened. I could smell the familiar smell of the local steak house mixed with the aroma of piss and sweat. It was mid-July and summer was at its peak. The sun beat down on my sweaty forehead while I wandered into the apartment building I had grown to know so well. Why was I here? Why couldn’t I just let go?
I felt it happening. I felt myself slipping away. I felt paralyzed even though my body was moving. I was no longer in control. All I could do was watch nervously through my eyes, hoping that this wouldn’t get me into too much trouble. It always feels like a movie when this happen. It feels like when the camera is showing what a person in the movie sees, from their point of view. My body led me towards the stairs. It walked up several flights when a person that I recognized opened the door on one of the floors.
“Oh shit, Daniel fuckin’ Jameson! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Mary yelled. Apparently, whoever was controlling my body didn’t care for Mary. I watched as my body walked right past her without acknowledging her at all.
“Are you alright? You look a bit…dazed,” Mary said. I just kept walking.
“Okay then, don’t say hi,” Mary replied sounding irritated as she walked off. My feet kept pulling me forward. A voice that sounded nothing like mine slipped from my mouth without warning.
“Bad bad bad,” the voice said. It sounded like that of a child. It sounded like a young boy who was in trouble. It was desperate. My vision slowly went black as the memories began pouring into my mind. I could no longer see what my body was doing. The last source of light slowly dimmed like a dying flashlight. I struggled to hold onto that last glimpse of light but it faded until it was gone and I couldn’t get it back. A tall brunette man with pale skin appeared in front of me. He was beautiful. His pale skin shined and his icy blue eyes pierced mine. I couldn’t look away even though I knew his looks were just a fucked up distraction for who he really was. He was much taller than me and he began to speak with a deep, harsh voice.
“You know you’re a pretty boy,” he told me. I looked at him as he walked closer to me. My stomach churned. He was my father’s age. I was seven. I stared into those gorgeous frightening eyes.
“No,” I whispered in the voice of a child. He towered above me as he got closer and closer. I closed my eyes as his hand reached down and touched my face. This was something I preferred not to see or remember though I was quite accustomed to the process. I let it happen without any sort of struggle. There was no point in struggling. That was what he wanted. I gave up on struggling long ago. I felt weight slowly press on my small body.
I woke up in a small apartment bedroom with pictures of famous celebrities on the wall. This was a room I knew well. My head throbbed so hard I thought it would explode. The pain was overwhelming. I lifted myself up off the floral bedding and sat on the edge of the bed. I looked at my shoes and tried to forget the memory I had forgotten for so long. It dominated my thoughts. Why could I forget it for so long but now it was all I could think about? I took a deep breath and pulled myself off the bed. I glanced around the room. There weren’t many changes since I was here last. There were more pictures of me on the wall. I looked at my smiling face and my icy blue eyes, feeling strange. I hardly recognized that boy anymore. I looked away quickly and slowly walked towards the bedroom door.
“How have you been?” Mary asked as I walked out of her bedroom and sat next to her on her beat up brown leather couch. I shrugged.
“I’ve been better,” I said. I sighed, still feeling my pulsating headache. She began telling me about all the fun she’s had since we last saw each other about a month ago. She had been on a trip around Europe. She told me about Paris and all the bitchy Parisian women who refused her service at this one restaurant. She old me about the prostitutes in Amsterdam, the pints in Germany, the bull fights in Spain. I tried to listen but my headache was overwhelming. I just sat there looking around her small apartment as she rambled on. There were pictures of me and her and our other friends on the walls.
I suddenly felt happy for the first time in weeks. I smiled at Mary. I had missed her. She loved me even though I was crazy.
Mary and I talked on the couch for a while. My mind grew tired and my thoughts began to wander. I knew something bad was about to happen. I felt relaxed yet anxious, happy yet sad, and nervous yet brave at the same time. Everything was moving so fast and my mind couldn’t even process anything. I felt as though I had just downed an entire bottle of Barcardi.
A knock on the door brought me back to reality. Mary opened the door and I immediately recognized who it was. Mary’s boyfriend. She introduced us, but we didn’t need any introduction. I knew he was an insensitive, masochistic, pretentious jerk. I couldn’t even look at him without feeling a deep hatred. I wanted to go away. He knew all about my past and I knew he would tell Mary. I hated people knowing the truth about me. When they know everything they start to judge. My face felt hot and my insides felt like they were going to explode. I felt so ridiculously uncomfortable I wanted to scream and cry. I was enraged and I knew it. My focus started to blur and dim. I knew it was happening again. I fought internally to stop it from happening but it was too late. My body was paralyzed again. Whoever was controlling my body looked down at my clenched fist. I no longer felt the anger but I knew whoever was controlling me did. They looked up at Mary and her boyfriend. Jealousy enraged the person inside me. My heart raced and my body shook. My eyes shifted in every direction and things started moving. Mary’s boyfriend was sitting close to her on the couch near me. It made me nervous. I didn’t want Mary next to someone who was such a fucking criminal. I could now feel what the person inside me was feeling. The overwhelming sensation of hate and anger took over my body as it let out an angry scream.
“Chill out,” Mary’s boyfriend said to whoever was controlling my body. I sat watching, unable to move. My body was turning redder and redder as my blood grew hot with rage. They didn’t seem to notice. I hated it. I hated it. I hated it. The light started to dim and I knew I was about to have a memory as whoever was in control of my body did as they pleased with me and anyone else that was around me. I couldn’t let that happen. I pushed harder than I ever had before to keep that light on. I needed to focus on what was current reality. I felt a feeling that I knew too well; a feeling of desperation to get vengeance on this son of a bitch who was sitting far too close to me. His father was the beautiful man that haunted my mind. His father was responsible for the way I was.
I sat there in silence as they laughed and joked. I wanted to regain control. I wanted to scream and cry and tell him what I really thought about him and his gorgeous father who made my life unbearable. What he did to me can not be forgotten, erased, or taken back. I wanted to be in control again. I pushed hard and struggled to regain control. The feeling in my body was slowly returning. It felt as though I had been outside in the dead of winter and grew numb from the cold and now I was thawing out. The feeling trickled over my body. I was able to blink. I was able to look around. My body was in my control again. I slowly stood up and walked into the kitchen. I went to the refrigerator for a drink. I grabbed a can of soda and opened it.
Mary and her boyfriend walked into the room. I smiled and put my soda on the counter.
“Hello, fuckbag,” I said to Mary’s boyfriend. He stared at me in disbelief. I smiled at him. I turned my back on him and Mary and opened one of the drawers. I knew what was in each of these drawers and I knew what I was going to get. He knew too. He knew these kinds of games well. After all, he was his father.
“Dan, what are you doing?” Mary’s boyfriend asked me calmly as he walked towards me. I turned around and smiled. My arms were at my side. He saw what I had in my right hand.
“Nothing, pretty boy,” I said to him. He looked just like his father. He sounded just like his father.
“Dan, I know what happened and it’s not my fault. It’s not your fault either. We should just talk,” he said calmly. I didn’t care. I was bent on revenge. It was the only way. It was the only way I would be free.
“Stop, Danny,” Mary choked out desperately as I stepped towards them. He walked towards me as well, asking me to stop, to put it down. Telling me he wasn’t his father and he wanted to be my friend. I didn’t care. He had ruined my life, and now I would ruin his. I turned and faced them. I looked into his eyes and I could see his father in them. They had the same icy shade of blue with heavy lids. I was scared and nervous and angry. I needed to do this.
Mary screamed at me to put the knife down. She told me not to do it. She begged; but I couldn’t let this opportunity to fix my life get away. He backed up, looking into my eyes. He asked if I wanted to talk to him. I shook my head as I continued to walk towards him. I laughed. He knew what was coming. This would be my chance to make my life right again. I would free myself from my past. I would kill this son of a pedophile scumbag who would never understand what I went through.
I stepped toward him slowly. There was very little room for him to escape. I knew he was about to make a run for it, but I was too clever for him. He dashed to the left, trying to get around me. I reached forward and grabbed his shoulder. He turned around and I put the knife into his stomach. He fell on his knees. I bent down and removed the knife. I smiled and stabbed him again and again and again as life left his face. The noises he made sounded familiar. I had heard them before. Life left his face.
Mary cried and screamed as I stood over her dead boyfriend. She picked up her cell phone and called 911. She cried and screamed hysterically into the phone telling them someone was just killed in her apartment. There was nothing that could save him now.
The blood formed a pool around his body. I had saved Mary from her crazy fuckbag of a boyfriend. I finally got my revenge. A knock on the door interrupted my train of thought. Two police officers let themselves in. Four EMTs followed them with a stretcher. One of the police officers approached Mary to comfort her. She was too hysterical to tell them what had happened just yet. The officer made Mary sit on the couch. Several forensic photographers entered the room. I stood there staring as the men began taking pictures of the scene for later investigation. I guess it’s important to have evidence. They didn’t seem to notice me. One of the EMTs covered Mary’s boyfriend with a body bag. They lifted him onto a stretcher and carried him out of the apartment. Everything was happening so fast. Mary continued to cry. The police officer tried to console her. The other police officer wanted to help but he needed to question her about what had happened.
“What was your relationship to the victim?” he asked.
“He was my boyfriend,” Mary replied. I stared at her. She looked down, still crying really hard. She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand.
“What was his name?” the police officer asked. She paused and looked in my direction, looking through me her eyes soaked with tears. She sniffed and took a deep breath.
“Daniel,” she replied. “Daniel Jameson.”
Friday, October 2, 2009
1990s Time Capsule Writing Prompts
Here are all the 90s memories we came up with in class. I think I got all of them! Remember, for your writing assignment, you'll pick at least 5 words from the class list and add 5 90s memories unique to you and write a 2-page story using these words. It can be autobiographical or not. It can be a reminiscing story or one that actually takes place in the 90s.
The idea is to use specific setting details to capture a time you remember vividly, usually childhood or adolescence. So, the time frame for most of you may be around 1994-2001, but if you remember the 80s, or even the 70s, then--rock on!
Time Capsule: The 1990s (early 1990s to about 2001)
General Pop Culture
Beanie Babies
Pokemon
Furbies
Sega Genesis
Nintendo 64
Sodas: Jolt, Surge, Mountain Dew, Clear Pepsi
Magic Johnson
Chicago bulls
Pogs
Tamagatchi
Cell phones
Overalls
Platform shoes
Chinese slippers
Butterfly hair clips
Slap bracelets
Plaid
RI Stuff
Waterfire
Buddy Cianci
In the News
Y2K
Columbine
Monica Lewinsky
Desert Storm
George Bush I and II
Dolly the cloned sheep
Death of Charles Schulz
Michael Jackson scandal
Death of Princess Di
Microsoft/Bill Gates
Dot-com crash
Movies and TV
Harry Potter (books & movies)
Tim Burton
Tarantino: Pulp Fiction, Reservoir Dogs
Titanic
T2
Will Smith
Jim Carrey
Toy Story
Lion King, & other Disney movies
Clueless
Austin Powers
Seinfeld
Friends
Simpsons
South Park
Family Guy
Are You Afraid of the Dark?
Hercules/Xena
Saved by the Bell
SNL – Adam Sandler, Chris Farley
Reality TV
Jerry Springer
Urkel
Buffy/Angel
Power Rangers
Waynes World
Beavis & Butthead
Salute your Shorts
SNICK
Music
Kurt Cobain
Grunge
Green Day
Pearl Jam
Red Hot Chili Peppers
Marilyn Manson
Backstreet Boys
Britney Spears
Hip-hop
Biggie & 2Pac
Eminem
Metallica comeback
Spice Girls*
Hansen*
*Yes, I realize inclusion in category of 'music' may be arguable
The idea is to use specific setting details to capture a time you remember vividly, usually childhood or adolescence. So, the time frame for most of you may be around 1994-2001, but if you remember the 80s, or even the 70s, then--rock on!
Time Capsule: The 1990s (early 1990s to about 2001)
General Pop Culture
Beanie Babies
Pokemon
Furbies
Sega Genesis
Nintendo 64
Sodas: Jolt, Surge, Mountain Dew, Clear Pepsi
Magic Johnson
Chicago bulls
Pogs
Tamagatchi
Cell phones
Overalls
Platform shoes
Chinese slippers
Butterfly hair clips
Slap bracelets
Plaid
RI Stuff
Waterfire
Buddy Cianci
In the News
Y2K
Columbine
Monica Lewinsky
Desert Storm
George Bush I and II
Dolly the cloned sheep
Death of Charles Schulz
Michael Jackson scandal
Death of Princess Di
Microsoft/Bill Gates
Dot-com crash
Movies and TV
Harry Potter (books & movies)
Tim Burton
Tarantino: Pulp Fiction, Reservoir Dogs
Titanic
T2
Will Smith
Jim Carrey
Toy Story
Lion King, & other Disney movies
Clueless
Austin Powers
Seinfeld
Friends
Simpsons
South Park
Family Guy
Are You Afraid of the Dark?
Hercules/Xena
Saved by the Bell
SNL – Adam Sandler, Chris Farley
Reality TV
Jerry Springer
Urkel
Buffy/Angel
Power Rangers
Waynes World
Beavis & Butthead
Salute your Shorts
SNICK
Music
Kurt Cobain
Grunge
Green Day
Pearl Jam
Red Hot Chili Peppers
Marilyn Manson
Backstreet Boys
Britney Spears
Hip-hop
Biggie & 2Pac
Eminem
Metallica comeback
Spice Girls*
Hansen*
*Yes, I realize inclusion in category of 'music' may be arguable
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Reading and Writing Prompts for 10/8
Reading/Prompt 1: What If, p. 61: "Oh ... That Sort of Person."
(Done in class on 10/1)
Read the examples of how authors can capture character through telling details. Think, also, of "White Angel" and the narrator's self-description: "I was, thanks to Carlton, the most criminally advanced nine-year-old in my fourth-grade class. I was going places. I made no move without his counsel." See how this brief description tells us something important about Carlton and about the narrator and his hero-worship of him. The author’s brief description of Carlton, on the same page ("Carlton believes in shocks") does double duty: it characterizes Carlton and foreshadows the shock of his death.
*Write a short character description using the prompt “He/she is the sort of person who ______." It can be one sentence or continue into two if needed. No other context is necessary, just a vivid, concrete description. See examples for some ideas. This will go with the exercise that follows, so make sure it’s a character you’ll want to keep writing about.
Reading/Prompt 2: Read What If, Chapter 8, "Ice Breaker." We did this exercise in class, substituting the 90s-early 2000s (around 1994-2001) instead of the 80s timeline. Write down five 1990s words from the class list (celebrities, movies, news events, etc.), then write down five words from the 1990s that have personal meaning for you, not necessarily from the list (friends you knew, schools you attended.)
*Write a 2-page story using all of your 10 words.
Include in it your character description from “The sort of person who___.”
Bring this story to class on 10/8.
Reading/Prompt 3: What If, intro to part 2 (p. 35-36) and Chapter 15 (p. 42-43), “An Image Notebook.” Read the image notebook description and begin keeping one. Try to jot down at least one image a day. Keep adding to the notebook; I’ll collect them at midterm (10/22).
Our student story for next week and 90s time capsule words will be posted soon.
(Done in class on 10/1)
Read the examples of how authors can capture character through telling details. Think, also, of "White Angel" and the narrator's self-description: "I was, thanks to Carlton, the most criminally advanced nine-year-old in my fourth-grade class. I was going places. I made no move without his counsel." See how this brief description tells us something important about Carlton and about the narrator and his hero-worship of him. The author’s brief description of Carlton, on the same page ("Carlton believes in shocks") does double duty: it characterizes Carlton and foreshadows the shock of his death.
*Write a short character description using the prompt “He/she is the sort of person who ______." It can be one sentence or continue into two if needed. No other context is necessary, just a vivid, concrete description. See examples for some ideas. This will go with the exercise that follows, so make sure it’s a character you’ll want to keep writing about.
Reading/Prompt 2: Read What If, Chapter 8, "Ice Breaker." We did this exercise in class, substituting the 90s-early 2000s (around 1994-2001) instead of the 80s timeline. Write down five 1990s words from the class list (celebrities, movies, news events, etc.), then write down five words from the 1990s that have personal meaning for you, not necessarily from the list (friends you knew, schools you attended.)
*Write a 2-page story using all of your 10 words.
Include in it your character description from “The sort of person who___.”
Bring this story to class on 10/8.
Reading/Prompt 3: What If, intro to part 2 (p. 35-36) and Chapter 15 (p. 42-43), “An Image Notebook.” Read the image notebook description and begin keeping one. Try to jot down at least one image a day. Keep adding to the notebook; I’ll collect them at midterm (10/22).
Our student story for next week and 90s time capsule words will be posted soon.
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