Not too long ago, in a place deep, deep underground called 'The Land of Darkness,' there was a man named Satana.
Satana was a nice man with a mean job. Satana's job was to do bad things to bad people after they die. Everyone was afraid of Satana, and they called him 'The Prince of Darkness' But Satana never died, so he became very tired of his work. Satana did not mind his job, because he could be by his three young children.
Satana's three young boys were named Adrian, Cassius, and Nicky. Adrian was devious, always making plans to be bad to other people. Cassius was cruel, always being mean to everyone. Adrian and Cassius were good freinds- always causing mischief and tricking people. But one of the boys was not like the other two.
Nicky was a good boy that did not cause mischief or trick or be mean to people. He was nice to people when they died. Nicky was also Satana's favourite son.
One day, Satana came back home from work to talk to his sons. "Boys, I have been doing my job for ten thousand years. I am tired, and I want one of you to be the next Prince of Darkness," said Satana.
"I want to be the next Prince of Darkness," said Adrian, the devious one, "I will trick everyone into cleaning my room for me!"
"No, I want to be the Prince of Darkness," said Cassius, the cruel one, " I will make them eat all of my vegetables, every day!"
"Actually, I don't want to be the Prince of Darkness, father," said Nicky, the nice one.
"Why not?" said Satana.
"Well... The Prince of Darkness has to be mean to everyone," said Nicky, "and I don't want to be mean. I want to be nice!"
"But Nicky," said Satana, "When bad people die, they need to be punished! Without somebody punishing bad people, more and more people will start doing bad things!"
"But there are already so many bad people that come to The Land of Darkness after they die," said Nicky, "I do not think that being bad to them is going to help anyone. I think that if we are nice to them, then they will start being nice too."
"Nicky," Satana said, " I was going to pick you to be the next Prince of Darkness. But since you only want to be nice to people, I suppose that I will have to keep working for the next ten thousand years."
This made Adrian and Cassius mad. Then, Adrian came up with a sneaky plan. He thought that if he and Cassius could go up to Earth, they could both be Princes of Darkness there.
That night, just after midnight, they carefully crept out of The Land of Darkness, up the big staircase, and into Earth. Everyone was surprised the next morning.
"Oh no," said Satana, "if Cassius and Adrian are not here in our land, then I will melt into a puddle by midnight! What are we going to do?"
Thinking quickly, Nicky said, "I'll go and look for them, father. If I am nice to them, they will surely come back."
Satana thought about this for a second, and then he said, "If you can bring them back before midnight, then even if you are nice to people, I will definitely let you be the Prince of Darkness."
With a big smile on his face, Nicky ran out of The Land of Darkness, up the big staircase, and into Earth. But Earth was big, and cold compared to his home. Nicky was frightened, but he knew that he could find Adrian and Cassius.
As he was walking down the street, Nicky saw a bunnyrabbit. "Did you see two mean little boys, bunnyrabbit?" said Nicky. But the rabbit did not answer, since rabbits do not talk. Instead, it just hopped, hopped away into the forest.
Then he saw a streetlight that was blinking bright green. Nicky had never seen a streetlight before and said, "Excuse me, mister, did you see two mean little boys around here?" The streetlight simply turned yellow, then red, and did not answer, since streetlights do not talk.
Nicky was getting angry, and started running fast down the street. He saw a man dressed in a big, red coat and wearing a white beard. The man was ringing a bell, and standing next to a sign that said "Christmas Charity".
"Excuse me, mister," said Nicky, "do you talk?"
The man in the big red coat looked at Nicky and became frightened. "Oh, no," the man said, "it is another child of darkness! Stay away!"
"Do you know my father?" Said Nicky, "Then did you see my brothers, Adrian and Cassius?"
"I saw two mean little boys," said the man, "and they came and took my money out of this bucket! They ran down the street, that way!" he said as he pointed, "Now please, stay away!"
"Gee, I'm sorry they took your money, mister," Nicky said, "but thank you for telling me where Adrian and Cassius went." Because Nicky is so nice, he put some money in the bucket. The man was shocked, and did not know what to say, but he was very happy.
Nicky kept running and running down the street, until he was too tired to run anymore. That is when he saw Adrian and Cassius trying to sneak over a garden fence.
"What are you doing?" Said Nicky, "That is someone else's garden! It is not nice to take from other people."
"We are hungry," said Cassius, "and we do not know where to eat."
"Yes," said Adrian, "and we can steal some fruit from this garden."
Nicky did not like that they were stealing from someone else's garden, and he did not know what to do. It was getting late, and he was afraid that his father would turn into a puddle. But then he remembered all of the tricks that Adrian and Cassius played on him. He thought that this would be the perfect time to trick them.
"You know," said Nicky, "our father said that he would make us a big feast when I found you."
"Boy that does sound good," said Cassius.
"Yes, I am very hungry," said Adrian, "Lets go back."
The three boys walked all the way back out of Earth, down the big staircase, and into The Land of Darkness. There they saw Satana, but it was only his head. It was sitting in a big bucket of water.
"Boys," said Satana in a very angry way, "You should not have left! I almost turned into a puddle."
"We are sorry that we left, father," said the two boys.
Then Satana grew back into his body, and said, "Now that you are back, you are both going to be locked in your rooms without dinner!"
"But I thought you were going to make a big feast," said Cassius.
"You tricked us, Nicky," said Adrian.
Nicky smiled as Adrian and Cassius ran back to their rooms. Then he gave his father a big hug.
"You did a great job, Nicky," said Satana, "and I am sure that you will do even better as the new Prince of Darkness!"
Then Nicky made an even bigger smile, and said, "As long as I can be nice to people, I know that I will."
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
Radio Play: A Real Jerk
CAST
Val - a cocky sounding young boy of 12.
Marty - a young, experienced sounding man of approximately 25 with a slight brooklyn-style accent.
Keeper - older, sloppy sounding man of approximately 50
Officer Finnes- older, experienced sounding authoritatively voiced police officer of approximately 40
---SCENE---
-(Faint background noises of the streets play in the background for a few seconds. As they fade, some rustling is heard - perhaps quick footsteps, crunching of paper)
Val: (whispering) Damn it! There's absolutely nothing in this pile.
Marty: Well, then quit playin' around and look over there. I think I seen a foil wrapper in that heap there... and watch your language, kid.
Val: I told you to quit callin' me 'kid'. My name's Val! I don't forget your name 'Martin'.
Marty: That's Marty. And It's Uncle Marty to you 'kid'!
Val: Yeah, yeah... Great job gettin' us kicked outa the club tonight - you couldn't have just gave him the stupid tip? I mean, come on, it's just fifteen cents! Even I could cough up that much!
Marty: Yeah- well then wadd'ya hold off for? You ate just the same as I did!
Val: (gradually getting a bit louder) Barely! I got two bites into my sandwich before Tommy recognized us. If you hadn't caused such a stupid fuss over that damn tip, we wouldn't be searching around this god-forsaken dump for burger scraps!
Marty: (almost shouthing) I said watch your mouth!
-(more rustling is heard - more footsteps)
Marty: Shh!- (whispering again) over there.
Keeper: (distant shouting) 'Ello? Who's out there?...
-(more footsteps are heard, approaching)
Keeper: (shouting) 'Ello?... Damn, cats.
-(footsteps heard moving further away, then a distant door slam)
Val: (still whispering) Geeze! You almost got us caught again! That'd be the third time this week.
Marty: So what? We was just buggin' people we knew. And that was just this week. So far I've been put away twice, and I don't plan on goin away again. The keeper here's a good friend of your dad's-
Val: (cutting him off) -don't talk about him.
Marty: ...Look, kid, he's your father just as much as my brother. Just 'cause he's locked up doesn't change that alright? Besides, Sammy was still good to you, wasn't he?
Val: (a bit louder) He was a jerk. A stupid jerk!
Marty: Shh!- He was not a jerk. He did what he had to do, and he's a good man for it. Now go look in that pile over there and find somethin'. I'm starvin' over here.
-(some more shifting and rustling is heard)
Val: Hey! Hey Marty, come over here!
Marty: Anything good?
Val: You kiddin'? It's like someone threw out a Christmas dinner over here! There's at least two cans of beans, half a sandwich,- what is that, a porkchop? We got porkchops!
Marty: Hehe, good job, kid- I mean Val.
Val: Lets get outta here- you got somethin' to wrap this up?
Marty: Yeah, here's a cloth.
Val: (over some rustling noises) Come on, hurry up!
Marty: I'm goin'... (rustling noises stop) Ok, let's get the hell outa' here.
Val: 'Watch you're language, Marty'.
Marty: Yeah, shut up, kid.
-(After a beat, a crash of dropped glass or metal is heard)
Marty: Val!
Val: Sorry.
-(A distant gunshot noise is heard)
Keeper: (distant shouting) Who's there?
Val: (Shouting) Shit!
Marty: Break for it!
-(Rapid footsteps are heard)
Keeper: Marty? That better not be you again! I swear I'll... I'm calling the cops.
-(The sound of footsteps fade out as street sounds pick up. After a few seconds, the street sounds fade back into footsteps accompanied by light wind sounds)
Val: (out of breath as the footsteps stop) They're... they're comin' for us Marty... Damn it!
Marty: Relax... we're safe here. Cops never check around the docks at this time of night... Not unless... not unless there's a bust, and I didn't see no-one.
Val: Ok... (catching breath) I think you dropped a can.
Marty: What?
Val: Beans. I think you dropped a can of beans.
Marty: (after shuffling) ...Aw, geeze. When?
Val: When we passed, uh... what's that store with the crappy sausage rolls?
Marty: That's that Sphinton place on Elmore. That ain't too far.
Val: Can we go back and get it?
Marty: No, we can't go back and get it, you Idiot. The cops ain't stupid, they'll patrol someone anywhere between here and the dump- it's procedure.
Val: Of course we can't go back and get it now. I didn't say to go back and get it now- I meant we wait an hour or two, then go back and get it.
Marty: ...Fine. We'll go back and get it. First we gotta wait, though... We just gotta wait.
-(The wind sounds pick up for a moment, then fade back into the street noises)
Marty: (under his breath) Well, where is it?
Val: I think we dropped it when we ran through this alley. Right around... There!
Marty: Great- now lets get outta-
Finnes: (Cutting him off) You can stop right there, Marty.
Marty: Val, get outta here.
Val: No, I'm not leavin' without you.
Marty: What are you, stupid? Get outta here damn it!
Finnes: Relax, Marty. I'm just here for you. Geeze, you gotta do somethin' stupid on my shift, don't you? Kid, beat it.
Val: No! I'm not leavin' without Marty.
Finnes: Well you're not comin' with us kid.
Marty: Come on, Val, get out of here.
Val: No! You're just like Sammy! He told me I was just a stupid kid, and told me to go away! Now he's in prison! I'm not just a stupid kid, damn it. (starting to cry) God damn it, You're not gonna just leave me like this!
Marty: ...Finnes, give me a minute with him.
Finnes: Look, It's the end of my shift, and my wife's probably worried sick about-
Marty: (cutting him off) I'm talkin' about a minute, Finnes.
Finnes: Fine. You got one minute. And that's Officer Finnes, Marty.
Marty: Yeah, yeah... Val, listen to me. Third time losers don't just pop out in a week or two, I'm goin away for a while. I've got five bucks in my pocket - that's food for a week. Give it to aunt Donna, and tell her what happened - she's gonna take care of you from now on.
Val: (Choked through tears) This is bullshit!
Marty: Watch your mouth. And don't try to come see me anytime soon - I've had enough trouble outta you. Just do your schoolwork, alright?
Val: I... (crying less now) fine Marty.
Marty: Alright, then get the hell outta here. Lets go, 'Officer'.
Finnes: It's a shame, Marty.
Marty: What do I care 'bout it? He's just a stupid kid.
Val: You're a jerk, Marty. A real jerk, you know that?
-(Rapid footsteps are heard fading away)
Marty: Yeah, yeah. I'm a real jerk.
-(Footsteps heard, fading into street noises, fading into nothing)
(OR, Footsteps heard, fading into music, fading into nothing)
END OF SCENE
Val - a cocky sounding young boy of 12.
Marty - a young, experienced sounding man of approximately 25 with a slight brooklyn-style accent.
Keeper - older, sloppy sounding man of approximately 50
Officer Finnes- older, experienced sounding authoritatively voiced police officer of approximately 40
---SCENE---
-(Faint background noises of the streets play in the background for a few seconds. As they fade, some rustling is heard - perhaps quick footsteps, crunching of paper)
Val: (whispering) Damn it! There's absolutely nothing in this pile.
Marty: Well, then quit playin' around and look over there. I think I seen a foil wrapper in that heap there... and watch your language, kid.
Val: I told you to quit callin' me 'kid'. My name's Val! I don't forget your name 'Martin'.
Marty: That's Marty. And It's Uncle Marty to you 'kid'!
Val: Yeah, yeah... Great job gettin' us kicked outa the club tonight - you couldn't have just gave him the stupid tip? I mean, come on, it's just fifteen cents! Even I could cough up that much!
Marty: Yeah- well then wadd'ya hold off for? You ate just the same as I did!
Val: (gradually getting a bit louder) Barely! I got two bites into my sandwich before Tommy recognized us. If you hadn't caused such a stupid fuss over that damn tip, we wouldn't be searching around this god-forsaken dump for burger scraps!
Marty: (almost shouthing) I said watch your mouth!
-(more rustling is heard - more footsteps)
Marty: Shh!- (whispering again) over there.
Keeper: (distant shouting) 'Ello? Who's out there?...
-(more footsteps are heard, approaching)
Keeper: (shouting) 'Ello?... Damn, cats.
-(footsteps heard moving further away, then a distant door slam)
Val: (still whispering) Geeze! You almost got us caught again! That'd be the third time this week.
Marty: So what? We was just buggin' people we knew. And that was just this week. So far I've been put away twice, and I don't plan on goin away again. The keeper here's a good friend of your dad's-
Val: (cutting him off) -don't talk about him.
Marty: ...Look, kid, he's your father just as much as my brother. Just 'cause he's locked up doesn't change that alright? Besides, Sammy was still good to you, wasn't he?
Val: (a bit louder) He was a jerk. A stupid jerk!
Marty: Shh!- He was not a jerk. He did what he had to do, and he's a good man for it. Now go look in that pile over there and find somethin'. I'm starvin' over here.
-(some more shifting and rustling is heard)
Val: Hey! Hey Marty, come over here!
Marty: Anything good?
Val: You kiddin'? It's like someone threw out a Christmas dinner over here! There's at least two cans of beans, half a sandwich,- what is that, a porkchop? We got porkchops!
Marty: Hehe, good job, kid- I mean Val.
Val: Lets get outta here- you got somethin' to wrap this up?
Marty: Yeah, here's a cloth.
Val: (over some rustling noises) Come on, hurry up!
Marty: I'm goin'... (rustling noises stop) Ok, let's get the hell outa' here.
Val: 'Watch you're language, Marty'.
Marty: Yeah, shut up, kid.
-(After a beat, a crash of dropped glass or metal is heard)
Marty: Val!
Val: Sorry.
-(A distant gunshot noise is heard)
Keeper: (distant shouting) Who's there?
Val: (Shouting) Shit!
Marty: Break for it!
-(Rapid footsteps are heard)
Keeper: Marty? That better not be you again! I swear I'll... I'm calling the cops.
-(The sound of footsteps fade out as street sounds pick up. After a few seconds, the street sounds fade back into footsteps accompanied by light wind sounds)
Val: (out of breath as the footsteps stop) They're... they're comin' for us Marty... Damn it!
Marty: Relax... we're safe here. Cops never check around the docks at this time of night... Not unless... not unless there's a bust, and I didn't see no-one.
Val: Ok... (catching breath) I think you dropped a can.
Marty: What?
Val: Beans. I think you dropped a can of beans.
Marty: (after shuffling) ...Aw, geeze. When?
Val: When we passed, uh... what's that store with the crappy sausage rolls?
Marty: That's that Sphinton place on Elmore. That ain't too far.
Val: Can we go back and get it?
Marty: No, we can't go back and get it, you Idiot. The cops ain't stupid, they'll patrol someone anywhere between here and the dump- it's procedure.
Val: Of course we can't go back and get it now. I didn't say to go back and get it now- I meant we wait an hour or two, then go back and get it.
Marty: ...Fine. We'll go back and get it. First we gotta wait, though... We just gotta wait.
-(The wind sounds pick up for a moment, then fade back into the street noises)
Marty: (under his breath) Well, where is it?
Val: I think we dropped it when we ran through this alley. Right around... There!
Marty: Great- now lets get outta-
Finnes: (Cutting him off) You can stop right there, Marty.
Marty: Val, get outta here.
Val: No, I'm not leavin' without you.
Marty: What are you, stupid? Get outta here damn it!
Finnes: Relax, Marty. I'm just here for you. Geeze, you gotta do somethin' stupid on my shift, don't you? Kid, beat it.
Val: No! I'm not leavin' without Marty.
Finnes: Well you're not comin' with us kid.
Marty: Come on, Val, get out of here.
Val: No! You're just like Sammy! He told me I was just a stupid kid, and told me to go away! Now he's in prison! I'm not just a stupid kid, damn it. (starting to cry) God damn it, You're not gonna just leave me like this!
Marty: ...Finnes, give me a minute with him.
Finnes: Look, It's the end of my shift, and my wife's probably worried sick about-
Marty: (cutting him off) I'm talkin' about a minute, Finnes.
Finnes: Fine. You got one minute. And that's Officer Finnes, Marty.
Marty: Yeah, yeah... Val, listen to me. Third time losers don't just pop out in a week or two, I'm goin away for a while. I've got five bucks in my pocket - that's food for a week. Give it to aunt Donna, and tell her what happened - she's gonna take care of you from now on.
Val: (Choked through tears) This is bullshit!
Marty: Watch your mouth. And don't try to come see me anytime soon - I've had enough trouble outta you. Just do your schoolwork, alright?
Val: I... (crying less now) fine Marty.
Marty: Alright, then get the hell outta here. Lets go, 'Officer'.
Finnes: It's a shame, Marty.
Marty: What do I care 'bout it? He's just a stupid kid.
Val: You're a jerk, Marty. A real jerk, you know that?
-(Rapid footsteps are heard fading away)
Marty: Yeah, yeah. I'm a real jerk.
-(Footsteps heard, fading into street noises, fading into nothing)
(OR, Footsteps heard, fading into music, fading into nothing)
END OF SCENE
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Journal Entry #2
For thousands of years, literature has influenced civilization from their views and ideals to the very structure of society and laws. Greatly influential literature pieces include The Declaration of Independence, Uncle Tom's Cabin, and The Communist Manifesto. These documents and stories have effected laws and society, ideals and social acceptance, as well as societal structure and government. Not all of these effects still remain, but remain as a part of history that can be easily applied to everyday life.
The Declaration of Independence is an American document written on July 4th, 1776 for the purpose of (amazingly) declaring the independence of the United States of America. Mainly written by Thomas Jefferson, it is the official document explaining why Congress voted to declare independence from Great Britian, and is the basis of the American holiday , "Independence Day". Independence day is a day celebrated by almost every American citizen, to remind them of the great battles their ancestors had to earn their independence and freedom. Written by cause of the American Civil War, it is the product of a change in ideals over many different causes - the main cause being slavery and human rights.
The book Uncle Tom's Cabin is a novel written by Harriet Breecher Stowe. While writing this book, Stowe was an active abolitionist - a supporter of abolishing slavery in the early to mid 1800's. This novel was written to show the heart-braking story and lifestyle of a group of black slaves, some sold due to debt troubles and their families attempting to run to Canada in order to escape the pursuing huntsmen and law enforcers. This reflection of a family in crisis, showing the compassionate side of black slaves and the predjudices that ran through society was a contributing factor to the support of anti-slavery groups, leading many towards the abolishment of slavery and resulting in The American Civil War.
The Communist Manifesto was written by both Friedrich Engels and Karl Marx. It is primarily a guide for a government based around communist ideals. The book is filled with several of Marx's theories, leading to an ideology of Marxism. these ideals influenced thousands of citizens and led to a communist government in Mid/Northern Asia. This may not have lasted long, but proved to be a nation's pride for a brief period, influencing many.
Political history is not necessarily an interesting topic or issue that I find interesting in comparison to creative historical stories and events. I have limited knowledge of Greek mythology and great classical novels, but would be willing to indulge some research in order to expand my writing capabilities. For example: After recently reading The Picture of Dorian Grey, I have gained a keen understanding of imagery presented in Oscar Wilde's flamboyantly ostentatious view, as well as horribly corrupted view, of life in the 1800's. This understanding has presented to me more options for creative writing in this sort of setting, or with these sort of characters. I could make a change to research more practical historical facts and events, which would also give me another aspect of writing - and should I have to indulge in this sort of issue or topic, I suppose I would.
The Declaration of Independence is an American document written on July 4th, 1776 for the purpose of (amazingly) declaring the independence of the United States of America. Mainly written by Thomas Jefferson, it is the official document explaining why Congress voted to declare independence from Great Britian, and is the basis of the American holiday , "Independence Day". Independence day is a day celebrated by almost every American citizen, to remind them of the great battles their ancestors had to earn their independence and freedom. Written by cause of the American Civil War, it is the product of a change in ideals over many different causes - the main cause being slavery and human rights.
The book Uncle Tom's Cabin is a novel written by Harriet Breecher Stowe. While writing this book, Stowe was an active abolitionist - a supporter of abolishing slavery in the early to mid 1800's. This novel was written to show the heart-braking story and lifestyle of a group of black slaves, some sold due to debt troubles and their families attempting to run to Canada in order to escape the pursuing huntsmen and law enforcers. This reflection of a family in crisis, showing the compassionate side of black slaves and the predjudices that ran through society was a contributing factor to the support of anti-slavery groups, leading many towards the abolishment of slavery and resulting in The American Civil War.
The Communist Manifesto was written by both Friedrich Engels and Karl Marx. It is primarily a guide for a government based around communist ideals. The book is filled with several of Marx's theories, leading to an ideology of Marxism. these ideals influenced thousands of citizens and led to a communist government in Mid/Northern Asia. This may not have lasted long, but proved to be a nation's pride for a brief period, influencing many.
Political history is not necessarily an interesting topic or issue that I find interesting in comparison to creative historical stories and events. I have limited knowledge of Greek mythology and great classical novels, but would be willing to indulge some research in order to expand my writing capabilities. For example: After recently reading The Picture of Dorian Grey, I have gained a keen understanding of imagery presented in Oscar Wilde's flamboyantly ostentatious view, as well as horribly corrupted view, of life in the 1800's. This understanding has presented to me more options for creative writing in this sort of setting, or with these sort of characters. I could make a change to research more practical historical facts and events, which would also give me another aspect of writing - and should I have to indulge in this sort of issue or topic, I suppose I would.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Ideal Clash
Clide almost dropped his glass when he heard the noise. Almost. It was some sort of crashing pop, similar to a gun shot, except it seemed to emit some sort of tooth-grinding reverberation for a moment. Simultaniously, everyone else in the pub either jumped in their seats, or chugged down the rest of their beers. One man immediately let out a spontanious belch which set the whole of a party section ary with laughter. No one seemed to care for looking, or even curious of what had happened. An earthquake maybe? Clide had never heard of earthquakes in the Southern part of Scotland. With quick pace and a glass in hand, he opened the glass door, chiming the bell and grabing notice of the bartender.
"Hey! Ya think yer leaving without paying, do you?" he belted in a thick accent. Immediately the rather stockey man next to the door rose from his stool before turning towards the towering presence of Clide that he was not expecting to deal with. His smug grin quickly faded to a to a cowering grimace. Clide, still fed up with the seemingly oblivious nature of the surrounding bar patrons, gave a quick, underhand jab to the man foolish enough to get in his way. The feeble whimper of this short, burly man was a small splash in still, yet immensly unstable waters. All chatter had ceased, and Clide gazed around the room to find every eye fixated intensely on him.
The glass door broke with the immense pressure of every patron and worker forcing themself upon Clide, pushing him into the street. Through sharp will enhanced by a drunken stupor, he managed to retain his balance, not to mention his glass. Forcing the three closest men to the ground with a swift, backhand strike, he took another gulp of his beer and readied himself for another enslaught of barbaric force - but it did not arrive in time for another immense crash.
It was different than the noise from earlier - it was much closer and almost seemed to build up before knocking several patrons and workers off of their feet. Should there have been bystanders to this war like scenario, they would have been knocked down as well. But it seemed as though everyone had vacated this section of the town.
The pointless squabble of angry, drunk men was interupted as attention was drawn up the hill, directly towards what seemed like some sort of immense sculpture covered in unsettled dust over an entire intersection. Upon cautious, distant speculation, it became aparent to Clide that some sort of explosion must have forced the concrete boulevard to break upwards towards the sky. It did not seem to break as expected 'though. Perhaps it was simply the 'trick of the drink', but it seemed to curl, as though weaving itself around a spherical presence, creating some sort of arch.
This was almost enough to distract everyone from the massive swarm of dark birds approaching quickly from above this ominous scene. But their curiosity did not compare to their overwhelming instinct to run as fast as possible away from this sight. Clide jolted to run, but did not move more than an inch before noticing that amidst this chaos, a lone figure of what seemed to be a young girl emerged from the massive makeshift archway. Without thinking, Clide sprinted, to the best of his impared ability, towards her. It was not until he was at least a stone's throw away before he realized that she was not a young girl, and she was not alone. Followed by a rather large dog, he saw that she must have been a woman of at least twenty-five. Upon even closer inspection, he first noticed that whatever kind of creature was following her, it was not a dog.
"Jesus, what the hell is going on here? What the hell is that? Are you..." Clide's barely coherent shouting was cut short by his even more shocking discovery. "...Danielle?"
Even through his hazey observations, he fixated upon her eyes, which were in return fixated upon his. Her gaze seemed to peer into his soul, as though she was searching for something.
Yet another crash interrupted with effect to even make Clide start. He started as a fool only to find that he had scared himself upon droping his glass.
"Where is Danielle?" she sternly asked, which set Clide into an even more deeply confused state. Desperately trying to grasp the situation, he simply gaped his mouth, before finally muttering some incoherent drunken banter.
"I don't think we shall get much from him in his current state, master Corby," which seemed to come from nowhere until Clide broke his gaze to stare in disbelief at the 'dog', which proved itself the source of these words.
"Perhaps not, Sully, but we have time enough."
Completely disoriented and only able to look down at his broken glass, Clide clenched his callouses in utter frustration. Cringing upwards towards this woman that he can no-longer believe is his wife, he is only able to grunt, "You owe me a beer," before passing out at the feet of mighty Peyton Corby.
"Hey! Ya think yer leaving without paying, do you?" he belted in a thick accent. Immediately the rather stockey man next to the door rose from his stool before turning towards the towering presence of Clide that he was not expecting to deal with. His smug grin quickly faded to a to a cowering grimace. Clide, still fed up with the seemingly oblivious nature of the surrounding bar patrons, gave a quick, underhand jab to the man foolish enough to get in his way. The feeble whimper of this short, burly man was a small splash in still, yet immensly unstable waters. All chatter had ceased, and Clide gazed around the room to find every eye fixated intensely on him.
The glass door broke with the immense pressure of every patron and worker forcing themself upon Clide, pushing him into the street. Through sharp will enhanced by a drunken stupor, he managed to retain his balance, not to mention his glass. Forcing the three closest men to the ground with a swift, backhand strike, he took another gulp of his beer and readied himself for another enslaught of barbaric force - but it did not arrive in time for another immense crash.
It was different than the noise from earlier - it was much closer and almost seemed to build up before knocking several patrons and workers off of their feet. Should there have been bystanders to this war like scenario, they would have been knocked down as well. But it seemed as though everyone had vacated this section of the town.
The pointless squabble of angry, drunk men was interupted as attention was drawn up the hill, directly towards what seemed like some sort of immense sculpture covered in unsettled dust over an entire intersection. Upon cautious, distant speculation, it became aparent to Clide that some sort of explosion must have forced the concrete boulevard to break upwards towards the sky. It did not seem to break as expected 'though. Perhaps it was simply the 'trick of the drink', but it seemed to curl, as though weaving itself around a spherical presence, creating some sort of arch.
This was almost enough to distract everyone from the massive swarm of dark birds approaching quickly from above this ominous scene. But their curiosity did not compare to their overwhelming instinct to run as fast as possible away from this sight. Clide jolted to run, but did not move more than an inch before noticing that amidst this chaos, a lone figure of what seemed to be a young girl emerged from the massive makeshift archway. Without thinking, Clide sprinted, to the best of his impared ability, towards her. It was not until he was at least a stone's throw away before he realized that she was not a young girl, and she was not alone. Followed by a rather large dog, he saw that she must have been a woman of at least twenty-five. Upon even closer inspection, he first noticed that whatever kind of creature was following her, it was not a dog.
"Jesus, what the hell is going on here? What the hell is that? Are you..." Clide's barely coherent shouting was cut short by his even more shocking discovery. "...Danielle?"
Even through his hazey observations, he fixated upon her eyes, which were in return fixated upon his. Her gaze seemed to peer into his soul, as though she was searching for something.
Yet another crash interrupted with effect to even make Clide start. He started as a fool only to find that he had scared himself upon droping his glass.
"Where is Danielle?" she sternly asked, which set Clide into an even more deeply confused state. Desperately trying to grasp the situation, he simply gaped his mouth, before finally muttering some incoherent drunken banter.
"I don't think we shall get much from him in his current state, master Corby," which seemed to come from nowhere until Clide broke his gaze to stare in disbelief at the 'dog', which proved itself the source of these words.
"Perhaps not, Sully, but we have time enough."
Completely disoriented and only able to look down at his broken glass, Clide clenched his callouses in utter frustration. Cringing upwards towards this woman that he can no-longer believe is his wife, he is only able to grunt, "You owe me a beer," before passing out at the feet of mighty Peyton Corby.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Journal Entry #1
It is difficult to express what I know, since what I know does not have a substantial degree of concrete background. This, however, does not mean that I do not have experiences that can be easily applied to literature. First and foremost, I am an actor. Having spent a few years studying and practicing different techniques for theatre, story, and character work, the majority of my writing is not based on my experiences, but what I believe I can create from the far reaches of my imagination. To put it bluntly, I suppose I am more interested in creative writing than anything else. Most of my interestes fall into novel or fantasy geared stories, be the product anything from a comic strip to a flamboyantly budgeted film production.
Recently I have found myself interested in historical fiction. I am in the midst of reading the novel Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott - the tale of Robin Hood and King Richard during the Crusades. I find it to be a wonderful novel, and would be interested if I could recreate a similar themed story. Not that I am only interested in historical fiction. One of my favourite novels is Brave New World by Aldous Huxley - an intriguing futuristic story about a flawed metropolis with twisted ideals in comparison to modern day society. I suppose that were I to research any sort of theme or subject, it would simply be to expand my knowledge of existing creative stories, be them 'sci-fi', horror, romance or action. I don't believe that my interest would dwindle should I come accross any kind of genre that I find less interesting.
In all honesty, however, certain lifestyles would be difficult for me to recreate. As an actor, I try to search for characters that I have some ability of portraying, and there are many rather common characters, that I could not even imagine. Certain characters like modern 'gangsters' or elderly widows, to say the least, would be difficult to invent purely through creativity. This would not stop me from attempting to understand these characters and their motives, but would prove a barrier for my writing ability.
Recently I have found myself interested in historical fiction. I am in the midst of reading the novel Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott - the tale of Robin Hood and King Richard during the Crusades. I find it to be a wonderful novel, and would be interested if I could recreate a similar themed story. Not that I am only interested in historical fiction. One of my favourite novels is Brave New World by Aldous Huxley - an intriguing futuristic story about a flawed metropolis with twisted ideals in comparison to modern day society. I suppose that were I to research any sort of theme or subject, it would simply be to expand my knowledge of existing creative stories, be them 'sci-fi', horror, romance or action. I don't believe that my interest would dwindle should I come accross any kind of genre that I find less interesting.
In all honesty, however, certain lifestyles would be difficult for me to recreate. As an actor, I try to search for characters that I have some ability of portraying, and there are many rather common characters, that I could not even imagine. Certain characters like modern 'gangsters' or elderly widows, to say the least, would be difficult to invent purely through creativity. This would not stop me from attempting to understand these characters and their motives, but would prove a barrier for my writing ability.
Character: Clide
"What is the capital of Peru?" In all honesty, I wasn't really listening. This show just pisses me off more than anything. All of these people that actually make it on the show are either doctors, or teachers, or 'scientists' in claim, but are most often med-school drop-outs. They're so full of themselves and usually end up making thousands of dollars by pressing a stupid buzzer - just because they know that magnesium has 26 protons, or neutrons, or whatever. Thousands of dollars that probably don't amount to what they already own from their doctor, or teacher, or scientist parents. This show just pisses me off.
Lucky enough for me, I can barely focus on anything right now. I remember I was watching "Friends" a while ago. It was the one when they lose the baby on the bus. Everyone tells me that they hate that show, but I don't mind it. I think that was four shots ago, and when I still had my shirt on - by all rights I should go get the sippy cup in the kitchen, but it's way too far of a walk. I have to use vodka because we ran out of scotch, and I'm not waiting untill tuesday for my paycheck. I can still see 'though, and think (I think,) so Danielle won't get mad. I know she's coming home around six, and she's bringing Ian back from daycare. It will be nice to see him, since I don't have to work tonight.
I don't know why I'm still watching this show. Turning off the television probably seems like the best idea right now. In a foolish attempt to get up, I bang my head on the doorframe. Again. I keep fooling myself that if I start something, I can finish it, and it works. The trip to the kitchen wasn't as far as it seemed. There's still a piece of salami in the fridge, so I can tide myself over until about six thirty - which means I've got about an hour to spare before everyone comes home. If I can make it to the door, I may as well go for a walk.
It's cold out, but not cold enough for my good jacket. Putting my shirt back on, I grab my sweater and almost trip, stumbling out the door. I feel like everyone stares at me as I make my way down the steps. I know that's not true 'though - people are usually afraid of me. Whenever I pass someone they always stare at the ground, unless they're just kids, then they can't stop staring up. Ian is like that. He will be two years old in June. That's over two months away and Danielle's already preparing for the party. She always gets worried whenever I go out alone. It's not like she says it, but I can tell. She doesn't say, 'Goodbye Clide,' with that happy tone anymore, and there's something about the way that her eyes sink whenever I leave. She has every right to worry 'though. More than once I've turned down the wrong corner and some punks decide to take me on just because of my size. It's worth it since I managed to land a job as a security guard down at the Clivesdale Park Mall - not bad for my first job right after college. Now that I think about it, It's been two or three days since I've got out of the house for something other than work.
Maybe I'll get something nice for Danielle. I can always get more scotch next week.
Lucky enough for me, I can barely focus on anything right now. I remember I was watching "Friends" a while ago. It was the one when they lose the baby on the bus. Everyone tells me that they hate that show, but I don't mind it. I think that was four shots ago, and when I still had my shirt on - by all rights I should go get the sippy cup in the kitchen, but it's way too far of a walk. I have to use vodka because we ran out of scotch, and I'm not waiting untill tuesday for my paycheck. I can still see 'though, and think (I think,) so Danielle won't get mad. I know she's coming home around six, and she's bringing Ian back from daycare. It will be nice to see him, since I don't have to work tonight.
I don't know why I'm still watching this show. Turning off the television probably seems like the best idea right now. In a foolish attempt to get up, I bang my head on the doorframe. Again. I keep fooling myself that if I start something, I can finish it, and it works. The trip to the kitchen wasn't as far as it seemed. There's still a piece of salami in the fridge, so I can tide myself over until about six thirty - which means I've got about an hour to spare before everyone comes home. If I can make it to the door, I may as well go for a walk.
It's cold out, but not cold enough for my good jacket. Putting my shirt back on, I grab my sweater and almost trip, stumbling out the door. I feel like everyone stares at me as I make my way down the steps. I know that's not true 'though - people are usually afraid of me. Whenever I pass someone they always stare at the ground, unless they're just kids, then they can't stop staring up. Ian is like that. He will be two years old in June. That's over two months away and Danielle's already preparing for the party. She always gets worried whenever I go out alone. It's not like she says it, but I can tell. She doesn't say, 'Goodbye Clide,' with that happy tone anymore, and there's something about the way that her eyes sink whenever I leave. She has every right to worry 'though. More than once I've turned down the wrong corner and some punks decide to take me on just because of my size. It's worth it since I managed to land a job as a security guard down at the Clivesdale Park Mall - not bad for my first job right after college. Now that I think about it, It's been two or three days since I've got out of the house for something other than work.
Maybe I'll get something nice for Danielle. I can always get more scotch next week.
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