Stuff I've written and felt like sharing.
n.b. I was planning on revising this at some point, as it is not a very good allegory...
[ic=Allegoria Liberorum or, The Allegory of the Children]Consider children playing a game. As might be expected, they divide up into several groups; some to play, others to watch. The children playing divide up into teams, with a few of the teams being much larger than the others. These larger ones exert their influence over some of the smaller ones, and can generally dictate what should be done, to the exclusion of the other, smaller groups of children.
The children watching divide up themselves as well. First, they divide up into the chatty, gossipy children and the ones who simply watch. From there, they divide up further into those who are for a particular team. As to be expected, most are for one of the larger teams, because they probably have a better chance of winning. Some of the more popular children who are not playing use their influence to try and get some of the kids who are either for the smaller teams, because they have friends on them or who are not for a team at all, to go along with them. Some do, others don't. A small majority of the children are interested and watch the game, but not all of those gathered.
Yet even having these teams does not ensure complete stability. Some children from the smaller teams join the larger ones. Some children from the larger teams switch to another team. A few children on the larger teams join the smaller teams. Even a few of the smaller teams make a deal with the a few of the larger teams for their mutual benefit.
The child who runs each team is interesting. The leader of the team is usually the best athlete or the most charismatic person. A few times, especially on the smaller teams, it is neither. Even on the big teams, and uncharismatic, relatively nonathletic children are the leader simply because they are popular. Mostly the game is going to be played by boys, but a few of the tomboyish girls, and even a few "girly girls", are playing as well. At one time, the girls complained that it was unfair that it was only boys playing, so they started playing as well. A few of the girls try to take advantage of being girls, even the tomboyish girls, saying things like "Ladies first."
Some of the larger teams try to convince the children watching that they are the best, and that they are different than all the other teams. Their gossipy friends try to help them out, sometimes because they are just being good friends, other times because they were asked. Some of the other children watching listen to the gossipy children. After all, they usually seem to know what they're talking about.
A few of the very small teams start to walk off. When they are asked why, they give a few different answers. Some say that the game is stupid, and that a different game needs to be played, one where everybody, even the people watching, can participate to have fun. Others say that the bigger teams are going to make it unfair for the smaller teams, and that all the teams should be equal, otherwise it will never be fun. Some of the gossipy children make fun of those who left, saying that they are crazy for walking off for that kind of a reason, or that they are sore losers before they have even lost.
Some children, especially those on the bigger teams, begin to make fun of the other teams, taunting them. They find that it is so fun, and that the children watching enjoy it so much, they keep intensifying it, to the point that it does not really make sense, and only serves its own end. They especially direct it at the smaller teams, because they are bound to lose, so why should they be cheered for?
Just as the game is about to begin, they are called in. Maybe tomorrow they might play the game... maybe.[/ic]
[ic=Ad Societas or, Of Society]You live with the wool pulled over your eyes, and it feels so soft and warm you don't really care too much. CNN, or whoever you get your "unbiased"Â news from, shows you someone dying somewhere else from whatever it is this week: war, starvation, disease, genocide, whatever. You'll stand up and say, "This is horrible, somebody should do something."Â Then, you'll sit back down. That is your life. You are too afraid to simply do something, and it's starting to show.
***
People seem to like to avoid confrontation. However, this really only holds true when you are not in a superior position to the person, or, to a lesser degree, when you are in an equal position to the other person. Sometimes, such positions can be very easy to define, like a boss and a subordinate. Your boss has had a bad day. You come in to work late. Ordinarily, he wouldn't care, but today he chews you out. Now you are having a bad day.
Other times, these positions are muddied, like a worker and a customer. You get off work, still upset with your boss for chewing you out. You go to a fast food place for dinner. The guy working at the counter makes an honest mistake and screws your order up. You could let it go and just deal with it, but most people don't. You could let him know politely that he made a mistake, but not today. You're worn out, stressed out, and this is the last straw. You chew the guy out because your double cheeseburger without onions had onions.
You let it get to you, in the worst way. And, as much as you'd like to, you can't deny that it felt good. It feels good to exert power. Who cares it if was at someone else's expense? If they don't like it, well, too bad.
***
People are starting to break from the stress, though. And not just when it's to someone lower than them. Take road rage. Our guy from before, still mad after a bad day at work and, in his mind, a wholly incompetent fast food place, gets cut off by Average Joe. Average Joe was on his cell phone, not really paying attention, and simply cut it a little close. Our angry Salary Man gets upset, and tailgates Average Joe. They both cut off Average Jill. She gets upset, and we now have the three car pileup on the seven o'clock news. None of these people are in a position any different than the others. They're all just random drivers, on a random road. Getting cut off, while somewhat dangerous, is nothing to get that upset about.
Let's take this in another direction. Let's say Average Jill calms down a bit before she gets to her exit. She decides it isn't worth it, and goes home. Our Salary Man, however, is still angry at Average Joe. They both get off at the same exit. Average Joe gets to the red light first, with our salary man right behind. Average Joe finishes his cell phone conversation, as our Salary Man walks up to his window. Average Joe looks over to see an angry-looking man standing outside his door. He rolls down his window to see what the problem is, but he can't even get a word in before our Salary Man gives him the tongue-lashing of his life. Average Joe tries to be apologetic, but the only thing that gets our Salary Man back in his car is the light change. Now four people are having bad days because one person took his stress out on someone else.
What did they gain from this? An ephemeral feeling of catharsis. And putting another person down. A great way to live, right? A positive feedback system is where a system responds to change in the same direction or manner as the change. Stress, in societal terms, is usually a positive feedback system. You get stressed out, you usually stress someone else out. It feeds off of itself.
People don't get that this builds up until you break. When you break, you get release, but in the worst way. Don't let it build up. Ignore the guy yelling at you from outside your car, he has road rage. Behind that, he's stressed because nothing is going his way. He got cut off trying to drive home after work and dinner. The kid at the fast food place screwed his order up. His boss was an ass because he had a bad day.
There are plenty of ways to get rid of stress. Some ways work for some people, other ways work for other people. Find whatever way is right for you.
***
Everybody knows fear. Knows what scares them. Maybe a loud noise that you weren't expecting. Or being on a ledge high up. Or maybe not so high up. Everyone gets scared sometimes. Fear can be used. It can coerce people. When someone holds a gun up to your head and demands that you give them all your money, there are three typical reactions. The main one that most humans will take is a hysterical reaction. They'll freeze up. They'll cry and plead not to be shot. Maybe they'll piss themselves. Maybe they'll try to run away. The second most common is to simply give into the demands. You aren't hysterical, but you're not stupid either. There's a gun to your head. It's probably a good idea to do most anything whoever is holding the gun says. These two constitute the so-called "flight"Â response to fear. The least common reaction, one that usually has to be trained into people, is to fight back. You get the gun so its line of fire is away from you, and whatever you do, you don't let its line of fire back on to you. This is the so-called "fight"Â response to fear.
But this isn't the only way fear is used. We live, everyday, under some kind of fear. And now there are visible reminders of this fear. Many cars and homes have alarm systems. Most people who can afford a car or house alarm live in neighborhoods where the crime rate is very low. But, if you ask them, it is very important that they have an alarm. You never know in this kind of neighborhood when something might happen.
Every day the media helps remind us that we need to be afraid. They show us all the bad stuff that happens all over the world. Some of them even can do it instantly, twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. And if you ask them, these are the only important stories. They say that nobody wants to hear about how a teenager helps out an old lady every week with her groceries. Or about the parents who work two jobs each to send their kids to school. Nobody thinks that stuff is important... right?
And the government does its job too. We pay taxes, we should get our fear-return on investment. They even color-coded it to make it easy for us. You better be careful today, I heard the color went from orange-red with more orange to red-orange today. It just became a little more likely that something bad might happen somewhere, at some time, in the foreseeable future. They must get some great information to predict things like that, I'll bet.
When is the last time you talked to your neighbor? How about the person two doors down? When is the last time your neighborhood, apartment, or whatever had a party for everybody? When is the last time you said "Hi"Â to a perfect stranger and they didn't give you a weird look? Are you yourself ever suspicious of strangers just because you don't know them? The common answers to these questions are a little disconcerting.
If you have a front porch, how often do you use it? I'll bet not very often. Is it right at the sidewalk, or is it far away? The richer you are, usually, the farther it is away from the sidewalk. How about the distance between your house and your neighbor's house? Aside from condos and apartments, there is a very obvious trend here. Row homes and town homes, generally places for the lower and middle classes, are right next to one another. As houses go further up on the property scale, so does the space between them. I lived in a town home. My neighbors were just on the other side of two walls. Richer people might have 30 to 40 feet in between their homes.[/ic]
n.b. Make of this one what you will. Unfortunately, the italics, which offset something integral in this piece, are a little hard to see at this font size. If it's too much of a hassle, copy and paste it into your favorite word processor.
[ic=American Archetypes]I am the Plebeian. I might vote, though then again, I might not. It's not like my vote counts. It doesn't? Why should I care? "Why shouldn't you?"Â should be the question here. If you promise me something I want there's a good chance I might vote for you. But they're under no compulsion to actually do it for you. More than likely, though, I'll vote for you because you're in the party that my reliable and unbiased news source says is the better of the two this election year. But that changes every two years... I might also vote for you just because you're in my party, especially at the local level. That's a good system?
I am the Dominionist. I am reclaiming America for Jesus. From who? I decide morality, and I force it on everyone. You're no Kant... You're either with us, or against us. I don't see how logical fallacies help your point. Islam is an evil religion, violent maybe, but no more so than Christianity... and it tries to impose a theocracy over its people as do you, and it must be replaced with Democracy. Whoever said they wanted to change? I'll vote for you if you're a God-Fearing Christian, you need to fear God? God bless America, support our troops. "A yellow ribbon instead of a swastika"Â is it?
I am the Critic. Everything the other side says is wrong. What's with you people and false dichotomies? Everything my side says and does is right. I doubt it... I'll point out all the flaws in the other side, especially the ones in their private lives. They're the worst people ever. I don't think ad hominem helps either. Do you see how they say x and y, but they do a and b? You can't trust them, they're fascists. They are? Says who? Like you're any better... I'll vote for my side to the exclusion of all else. Everything negative about them is lies. I like apathetic people better now...
I am the Interest Group. You've never heard of me, and if I can help it, you never will. My message is approved by my proxy. I decide what your politicians vote for, after all, you can't provide them with money. But politics aren't about who gives money to who... It's not bribery, I mean, it's legal isn't it? It shouldn't be... We live in a capitalist economy. So what if people are poor? I've got my interests to look after, and better places to spend my money than on some homeless guy. Like what? Helping someone worse off? Probably not... I vote for the guy I paid. Hopefully I can make you vote for him too. Because money decides elections, not votes, right?
I am the Star. I care and I show it by funding things like schools in Africa. A private school is not the same as free public education. I can't help it if younger people like me, so why should I be a role model? I thought you cared. Don't you? Why shouldn't I get off easier when I commit a crime? I have money, and that should help get me out of it, right? No. I'll vote for whoever I choose. Feel free to do the same. "The same as you,"Â right?
I am the Media. I am your most trusted, the most powerful, and of course, the most watched name in news. I am more than the headlines. Watch or read me, and be the first to know. Of course, I am fair and balanced: I report; you decide. It's too easy when they say this themselves. Fairness and Accuracy In Reporting? I have that. Umm... you "have"Â a watchdog group? Noam Chomsky? Why give a linguist airtime? Only in America, I suppose. I mean, the rest of the world seems to like to hear the opinions of this linguist for some reason. I am unbiased, therefore I cannot tell you who I vote for. I'll help you make the right decision. I need help for that? I can't form my own opinion?
I am the Politic. I don't have a forked or silver tongue, that kind of thing is for those crazy, hippie teenagers. It's not meant in a physical sense... I definitely, almost never, in a general sense don't lie. Umm... I never accept bribes, but I will gladly take donations. There's a huge difference. One's illegal, the other isn't. I don't really see any other difference, though. I represent you, the people, not someone who pays me money to go one way or another on an issue. Why can't you respond to a letter or an email personally, then? What are the interest groups paying you for then if you don't vote according to their whims? I don't really get what all this "logical fallacy"Â stuff is about. It seems perfectly logical to me. Thank you, Mr. Spock. I vote for myself, and I hope you will too. Your silvered tongue is showing...
I am Sophia Phronesis. You fail to exercise your own power. You are at once more free and less free than you think. I say be a skeptic. Not everything CNN says is the truth because they are liberal, and nor is everything Fox says a lie because they are conservative, and vice versa. But more than likely neither are telling you the truth. Voting for a third party is not "throwing away your vote."Â You should pay attention more, you should speak up more, you should do more. Do you really have freedom if you don't use it? I vote for who best, and more importantly, actually represents me. I like her...[/ic]
n.b. This one is unfinished.
[ic=Untitled]I am asleep, I know I am asleep, yet I cannot help but feel that I am somehow awake. I am in an empty room, nothing more than four walls and a door. Between the door and myself is a Faceless Man. He wears a faceless, porcelain mask. The Faceless Man steps to one side, and motions for me to go through the door. I place my hand on the doorknob, and look back at him. I cannot help but feel that if the Faceless Man had a face, he would be grinning at me. I shake my head. Like the Cheshire Cat, I think to myself, or was it the Caterpillar? I open the door, and fall to the ceiling. Before me lies a barren waste, somehow gravity is subjective in this place. Curiouser and curiouser, I think to myself, Oh... that's right. This is a dream. I get up, and leave the building.
In the distance, I can see a great River. I walk towards it. As I get closer, I see a multitude of People huddled near the River's banks, with a good number wading in the River. The water in the River appears odd; the color is just not quite right. As I get closer, I see that the water appears to be red, almost as if it is stained by blood. I can see the People in more detail now. They all appear to be washing their hands in the River, trying to get a red stain off, yet, it appears no matter what they do, the stain is indelible, and simply will not come off. I look at the River yet again, and I notice that the River does not simply run red with blood; the River is blood. The People are washing their hands in the River trying to wash the blood staining their hands off in vain. Like Tantalus, I think, or was it Sisyphus?
Seeing nowhere else to go, I walk back towards the empty room I had left. I go inside, and find that there is another door, placed opposite of the one I found originally. I place my hand on the doorknob,
...
And for the second time in a row, I wake up. â,¬Å"I hate dreams I don't get,â,¬Â I mutter to myself. I am in an empty room, nothing more than four walls and a door. This seems kind of familiar, kind of like... oh. I think to myself, How odd everything is today. And yesterday things weren't so normal either...[/ic]
This stuff is totally awesome. The first writing gave me a vibe similar to what various Allegory of Good and Bad discussions did. I love your stuff on fear and on American society. All of the material to that point is a fairly realistic look at the chaos that exists in today's society. The last one is trippy as hell...
I'm surprised and yet I'm not how similar the opinions that seem to be present here are similar to my own. If the politically-related material is written with a bias, it's definitely not one in favor of the media and the current state of affairs.
I like. :)
Quote from: TrollI'm surprised and yet I'm not how similar the opinions that seem to be present here are similar to my own. If the politically-related material is written with a bias, it's definitely not one in favor of the media and the current state of affairs.
I like. :)[/quote]
Thanks!
"Archetypi Americani or, American Archetypes" was a good read, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Interesting, political writing that is neither inflammatory nor rambling is a rare sight in these (and I suppose all) times. Thanks, tom.
"The Allegory of the Children", while well written and thought-provoking had some flaws in my eyes. Namely, that those thoughts have been provoked before. Though it was concise and pointed, it's been done before (which I note you acknowledged).
I won't comment on "Untitled" until it's finished, but thus far it has captured my interest, please continue. It's Sisyphizing...er...:D
Quote from: Jaerc"The Allegory of the Children", while well written and thought-provoking had some flaws in my eyes. Namely, that those thoughts have been provoked before. Though it was concise and pointed, it's been done before (which I note you acknowledged).
Ad Societas[/i]," it's my least favorite one of these.
Quote from: JaercI won't comment on "Untitled" until it's finished, but thus far it has captured my interest, please continue. It's Sisyphizing...er...:D
I'll finish it sometime, but it's exam week/moving week right now for me, so it'll be a little while before it's done.
Archetypi Americani was a good read. Nice work! I particularly enjoyed the name "Sophia Phronesis".
Túrin
Ha! I knew had a thread in this section.
Bumpage.
[ic=Honor Amongst]The glass shatters.
Jean is on the other side of the room, startled. As is everyone else. Except me. This kind of thing seems to follow me.
Men come through what was a window, crunching over the glass.
'I like an entrance, don't you? Now, your money and valuables,' says one. Another walks over to me.
I mutter those words and grin. The pretentious ones are easy.
'How about it, pretty lady?' he asks, as he grins back.
He never sees it coming. My hand grasping his throat. The slight shift to put him off balance. The marble floor rushing up to meet his head. It all flows like water.
He hits the floor and the room shakes. The marble is cracked.
The room goes quiet and everyone looks at me. The thief is dead. My smile's gotten wider. The other thieves begin walking over.
'Looks like we get to have some fun, eh boys?' the pompous one says.
This time, I mutter those other words.
'What was that? I didn't quite hear you.'
I move forward. Walking. Running. Sprinting. Flying. He'll see it coming. But he won't be able to do anything.
I stroke his face with my finger as I go past. His head snaps back. The tell-tale crack. He falls to the floor.
I land and grit my teeth. The ground is pain. I was having too much fun with him. I had stopped paying attention. My feet are bleeding.
The other two are running. I don't care. I am on the floor, clenching my feet.
I start pulling one piece of glass out slow. Pain. I take a breath and clench my teeth. I pull it out fast. Fire. I pull another out. Not as bad. But I'm tearing up now. Last one. It's in the other foot. It hurts much worse than the first. I can't even see for a few seconds after. I had thought it was just an expression.
I try standing up, but I fall right back down. I can't even walk.
I manage a smile as Jean comes to me. She tears part of her dress and starts bandaging my feet. I almost manage a chuckle. Doing something like that, really. Like me, she didn't fit in at this party anyway.
She stops. 'No way,' it's finally dawned on her, 'You're that thief I've been chasing, aren't you? Never would've figured a witch needs to steal.'
I forgot. I know her, but she doesn't really know me. Or she didn't. Hopefully, she won't arrest me after this.[/ic]
Flash fiction from that new setting (http://www.thecbg.org/e107_plugins/forum/forum_viewtopic.php?57839) I'm making.
To be quite honest, this is the first piece of fiction I've written since I last posted anything in this thread.
Much less pretentiously titled, no?
I need a little better Visual about Jean, but the rest, as you said, flowed like water. Nicely done, and a lot you can do with that.
Quote from: Vreeg's Coachwhip.I need a little better Visual about Jean, but the rest, as you said, flowed like water. Nicely done, and a lot you can do with that.
EDIT:[/b] Resolved in CBGchat.
Expect more about these two later on. I have decided to go for an inanely mundane story next. How both Jean and Lasa typically obtain breakfast. If you want, you can consider this story
in media res.
Revised my earlier piece. Not sure how I feel about it, but I think it's a bit of an improvement.
[ic=Honor Amongst]The door slams open and three men burst in.
They kick a table over, glasses go flying.
The room had been filled with the sounds of a party. Now it's silent. Jean is on the other side of the room, standing in disbelief.
'I like an entrance, don't you? Now, your money and valuables,' says their leader.
I choke back laughter. I'm going to find it hard to take killing them seriously if they act like this. I mean, who says that? Seriously.
They begin a 'collection.' One walks up to me.
'How about it, pretty lady?' he asks, with a stupid grin on his face.
I mutter those words. The pretentious ones are easy.
He never sees it coming. My hand grasping his throat. The slight shift to put him off balance. The wood floor rushing up to meet his head. It all flows like water.
He hits the floor and the room shakes. The planks splinter.
The room turns and looks at me. The thief is dead. My smile's gotten wider. The two thieves just stand there, gawking.
You know how snakes can dislocate their jaws to swallow prey whole? My smile is like that now. When I smile like this, it scares me sometimes.
'W-what...' the leader splutters.
What was that? I didn't quite hear you. I don't wait for a clarification; I wasn't going to let him finish.
This time, I mutter those other words.
I move forward. Walking. Running. Sprinting. Flying. He'll see it coming. But he won't be able to do anything.
I stroke his face with my finger as I go past. His head snaps back with a tell-tale crack. He drops to the floor.
I land and grit my teeth. The ground is pain. I was having too much fun with him. I had stopped paying attention. My feet are bleeding.
The other one runs. I don't care. I'm on the floor, clenching my feet.
I start pulling one piece of glass out, slow. Pain. I take a breath and clench my teeth. I pull it out fast. Fire. I pull another piece out. Not as bad, but I'm tearing up now. Last one. It's in the other foot. It's worse than the first; I can't even see for a few seconds afterwards. I'd thought that was just an expression.
I try standing up, but I fall right back down. I can't even walk.
I manage a smile as Jean comes to me. She tears part of her dress and starts bandaging my feet. I almost manage a chuckle. Doing something like that, really. Like me, she didn't fit in at this party anyway.
She pauses and pushes her hair out of the way. She wore it loose for once.
She stops. Suddenly, realization flashes over her face.
She grins.
I think she knows who I am now.
'You're under arrest.'
Yep.[/ic]
[ic=That Time of the Month]Once again, I can't sleep. This always happens right before that time of the month, as if I needed another reminder. I've come to dread it. That said, it is not like it's something I can control.
One of the first things I notice is that, my skin gets really sensitive. Even the softest clothes I have irritate my skin, almost like being sunburned all over. Everything starts to make me itch, too. It's not exactly fun.
A couple of months ago, I moved to an abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere. When it gets to be that time of the month, I generally stay away from the village down the road. I'd say I'm usually a pretty quiet, but I've noticed that I start snapping at people over little things then. It makes me feel bad, you know. But it's not like I can control it.
***
'Go away.'
'Is that any way to greet a guest?' Lasa asks him.
There's a long pause. Lasa looks back towards the setting sun.
'Look, will you just go aw-'
'No.' She crosses her arms. I would say, 'for effect,' but I don't think he'll see it on the other side of a door.
He mumbles something. Neither of us can hear it.
'What?'
'Please.'
''Please' what?'
I can just barely hear him sigh through the door.
'This is a really bad time for me. Couldn't you just-'
'No.'
There she goes with that grin again. It scares me a little to think how much she likes toying with people. You know, what with her being a witch and all.
The guy doesn't say anything for a long time. Lasa looks over her shoulder again.
'If you don't let us in, we're just going to have to come in.' Her grin gets wider again. I wouldn't be surprised if she used magic to do that or something.
'NO! I mean... I'm sorry. This is just not a good time. Please...'
'Lasa, we could just come back tomorr-'
'No. Look.' She points at the setting sun behind her without turning.
'Seriously, what does that have to do with anything? You're acting as weird as he is.'
'It's only part of the problem. Well, neither of them are problem. Once we can see the other thing, he'll be the problem.'
'Uh... what?'
'Anyway...'
Lasa whispers something. She puts her hand on the door and I hear something click. She pushes and the door creaks open.
She steps into the doorway, still grinning.
'How did you...'
'Sit, boy,' she says as she points to a chair.
'Jean, remind me why we came up here again?'
'There's been weird stuff happening every couple of weeks or so for the last few months. Strange noises, animals killed and eaten by something big, people seeing some kind of large animal at night, that sort of thing.'
'And how would you connect all of those?'
'I don't know.'
The guy is just sitting there with his head down. He seems pretty upset. And I can't figure out what Lasa is getting at.
Lasa squats down in front of him, arms crossed, with that Cheshire cat grin of hers. He looks up, leaving his head down, and sighs.
'This man, Jean,' she says to me, 'is a werewolf.'
'Okay...' I start to take this in and remember something. Something really important.
'Wait, Lasa, isn't tonight the full mo-. Shit.'
***
The one woman, Jean, looks like she's in the guard from the city down the road. The other one, Lasa, well, I have no clue who or what she is. You know, aside from clever and all smiles. No, that's not really right. She doesn't look like the type that smiles all the time. More like, she just has this huge shit-eating grin she'll put on whenever it suits her. Appropriateness be damned.
I guess my real problem right now is that they're still here. The whole point of going to this cabin was to get away from people. Because I'm afraid. Afraid of what they'd do to me if they found out. Afraid of what I might do to them. But here they are. Jean just remembered what tonight is. She looks nervous, to say the least. Lasa knew to begin with, and is just standing there grinning that Cheshire cat grin. I can't tell if she's brave or crazy or smug. It kind of pisses me off.
I start feeling weird. My joints all ache, like growing pains when I was a kid. My teeth feel a little loose when I play with them with my tongue. And I'm really, really hungry. I know this feeling. I mouth for them to run. But words don't come. It's starting.[/ic]
More flash fiction with Lasa and Jean. I ended up starting this once, stopping, starting completely over, and stopping again. I ended up fusing the two attempts into this one story.
Interesting piece; I really like the quick, back-and-forth pace of it. Is this set in the modern day??
Quote from: SteerpikeInteresting piece; I really like the quick, back-and-forth pace of it. Is this set in the modern day??
I realized after I wrote the earlier piece with Lasa and Jean that it was really ambiguous as to the time period. These two stories are supposed to be set in my setting, which is medieval fantasy. I kind of like, however, that it's ambiguous.
In the case of an ambiguous time setting you may want to avoid references like the Cheshire Cat, simply because they allude so strongly to the real world. A bit like using the word byzantine or machiavellian to describe the politics of a fantasy world, or using the same days of the week...
Revisions, with thanks to Steerpike. Same story, now with +2 to temporal ambiguity.
[ic=That Time of the Month]Once again, I can't sleep. This always happens right before that time of the month, as if I needed another reminder. I've come to dread it. That said, it is not like it's something I can control.
One of the first things I notice is that my skin gets really sensitive. Even the softest clothes I have irritate my skin, like being sunburned all over. Everything starts to make me itch, too. It's not exactly fun.
A couple of months ago, I moved to an abandoned cabin that's pretty far out of the way. When it gets to be that time of the month, I generally stay away from the village down the road. I'd say I'm usually a pretty quiet, but I've noticed that I start snapping at people over little things around then. It makes me feel bad, you know. But it's not like I can control it.
***
'Go away.'
'Is that any way to greet a guest?' Lasa asks him.
There's a long pause. Lasa looks back towards the setting sun.
'Look, will you just go aw-'
'No.' She crosses her arms. I would say, 'for effect,' but I don't think he'll see it on the other side of a door.
He mumbles something. Neither of us can hear it.
'What?'
'Please.'
''Please' what?'
I can just barely hear him sigh through the door.
'Right now is a really bad time for me. Couldn't you just-'
'No.'
There she goes with that grin again. It scares me a little to think how much she likes toying with people. You know, what with her being a witch and all.
The guy doesn't say anything for a long time. Lasa looks over her shoulder again.
'If you don't let us in, we're just going to have to come in.' Her grin gets wider again. I wouldn't be surprised if she used her magic to do that or something.
'NO! I mean... I'm sorry. This is just not a good time. Please...'
'Lasa, we could just come back tomorr-'
'No. Look.' She points at the setting sun behind her without turning.
'Seriously, what does that have to do with anything? You're acting as weird as he is.'
'It's only part of the problem,' she stops to think about something for a second. 'Well, neither of them are problem. Once we can see the other thing, though, he'll be the problem.'
'Uh... what?'
'Anyway...'
Lasa whispers something. She puts her hand on the door and I hear something click. She pushes and the door creaks open.
She steps into the doorway, still grinning.
'How did you...'
'Sit, boy,' she says as she points to a chair. 'Jean, remind me why we came up here again?'
'There's been weird stuff happening every couple of weeks or so for the last few months. Strange noises, animals killed and eaten by something big, people seeing some kind of large animal at night, that sort of thing.'
'And how would you connect all of those?'
'I don't know.'
The guy is just sitting there with his head down. He seems pretty upset. And I can't figure out what Lasa is getting at.
Lasa squats down in front of him, arms crossed, grinning from ear to ear. He looks up, leaving his head down, and sighs.
'This man, Jean,' she says to me, 'is a werewolf.'
As I am taking this in, I remember something. Something really important.
'Wait, Lasa, isn't tonight the full mo- Shit.'
***
The one woman, Jean, looks like she's in the guard from the city down the road. The other one, Lasa, well, I have no clue who or what she is. You know, aside from clever and all smiles. No, that's not really right. She doesn't look like the type that smiles all the time. More like, she just has this huge, shit-eating grin she'll put on whenever it suits her. Appropriateness be damned.
I guess my real problem right now is that they're still here. The whole point of going to this cabin was to get away from people. Because I'm afraid. Afraid of what they'd do to me if they found out. Afraid of what I might do to them. But here they are. Jean just remembered what tonight is. She looks nervous, to say the least. Lasa knew to begin with, and is just standing there grinning that damned grin of hers. I can't tell if she's brave or crazy or smug. It kind of pisses me off.
I start feeling weird. My joints all ache, like growing pains when I was a kid. My teeth feel weird. They're a little loose when I play with them with my tongue. And I'm really, really hungry. I know this feeling. I mouth for them to run. But words don't come.
It's starting.[/ic]
This is really short, but I like it just the way it is.
[ic=Eating the Big Cheese]'Did you know the Moon eats the Sun every eighteen years?'
'At least, I'm sure that's what some shaman probably thought up ten thousand years ago or so to explain solar eclipses. They noticed something other people didn't '" something elemental in how the universe works '" and they gained power.'
'And that, Jean, is where babies come from.'
With that last quip, she gives me a look.
'That's where magic comes from...?'
She's still giving me that look.
'Alright, fine, it's a useless piece of anthropological and astronomical knowledge.'
She cracks a grin.[/ic]
Mysteries solved! Mysteries revealed! Other crap!
[ic=Whipped Cream]It looks as if they have switched bodies.
Jean is giving me a look, but Alice seems to either not know about, or more likely not care about, our argument.
'You drunk shit, you have no clue what you're talking about.'
Obviously, Jean does not share my love for the Geo Metro.
'That car's an absolute piece of garbage.'
Nope.
'Ah, but have you ever owned one?'
'That's not the point.'
'But you can't judge it just on some stories you heard...'
'Yes I can.'
'No you can't.'
Thunk.
Alice interrupts with a beer bottle to the table.
'So, yeah. Beer. Drink it.'
I get the feeling that if she wanted to, she could drink the both of us under the table. Without magic.
Thinking about it, I haven't drank in a good while. I wasn't sure at first how drinking would affect my condition, but it seems not to. Probably should hold back around that time, though.
And of course, as if reading my mind '" and I'm not entirely sure she can't do that...
'Dave, you're more fun when you're on your period.'
Jean giggles at that.
'What.'
'You heard me.'
They're both giggling now.
'Look, I know you're crazy, but I personally don't consider transforming into a ravenous beast 'fun''.
'Suit yourself.'
'I will.'
'Fine, then'
'It is fine.'
'We're out of beer.'
'Wait, what?'
'Beer. We don't have any more of it.'
I sigh. I know where this is going.
'Go get some more.'
I look at my watch. Crap. Liquor stores should still, unfortunately, be open.
'Pleeease?'
I get up with a bit of a wobble, grab my wallet and keys, and head out.
Come to think about it, this crappy motel room we've been holed up in for the past three days isn't that bad, comparatively. But I still miss my cabin.
I swagger along to the store. Though I know it won't work, I try to make smoke rings with my breath in the night air. I still don't get why that doesn't work. Ten minutes pass and I'm there. Seems it's routine in these parts to come back for more; the clerk doesn't even look at me twice.
I'm starting to get a bit soberer walking back. I think my tolerance has gone down since I last drank. Probably should slow down a bit.
As I reach for the door handle, I hear a scream from inside. It's Jean.
I open the door. What I see before me makes me grin one of those grins Alice makes. Apparently, there was a can of whipped cream stashed in the fridge. It has partially been discharged in Jean's hair.
Like the golden apple was to the quick girl.[/ic]
[spoiler]A situation very much like this happened to me once.
[spoiler]Yes, the whipped cream thing.[/spoiler][/spoiler]
EDIT: I forgot to mention, in a setting retcon, Lasa is now Alice. I'll revise the other stories eventually.
Why is 'Pleiades' not in spellcheckers but 'Orion' is? That's kind of silly...
Also, new characters in a new story. Almost too much new to handle.
[ic=One Week Left]We're sitting on the curb.
It's like, shit, I don't even know how late.
I'm leaving in a week.
'You see Orion right?'
'Yeah. I think so.'
I have no clue where this is going.
'There's a little grouping of stars below and to the right of it. That's the Pleiades.'
'Where?'
Is it going anywhere?
'There.' I point. At this point, I just have to hope. Pointing never works.
'I don't see it. Show me.' Claudia leans closer.
I can't say I mind. Although, it doesn't help the situation any.
'I am. They're right there.'
'That?' She points. It's hopeless. I give up for now. It would probably help if we weren't as drunk.
I'm not good at this sort of thing. I can't get a feel for it.
'Why do you talk about stars anyway?'
'Because they're interesting.'
I'd like to assume everyone feels like this, but I'm not sure.
I hate telling some stories. People will probably tell you otherwise, but there are just some stories I hate telling. 'Why Joe's Interested in Stars' one of them.
'Uh huh.'
My friends deem to give me advice on this sort of thing whenever they can. I usually don't listen.
'No, really. They are. So the story with the Pleiades and Orion is really weird. Constellations are just lines drawn between stars right? But tons of cultures saw the same things when they saw them.'
'Okay.' It's a lost cause.
But really, I'd just like to know what she really thinks about me.
'So, like, lots of people saw the Pleiades as seven sisters. Or at least seven siblings. Except for the Aztecs. They saw it as a market place.'
'You still haven't told me why you think I'm picky.' She changed the topic. Now onto a whole other can of worms...
Why am I assuming she thinks anything about me?
'I don't remember.'
'You have to tell me.'
Christ, there's the depression talking again. I don't know what she thinks, I can't. Best not to speculate.
'But I can't tell you something I don't remember...'
She smacks me on the arm. 'Tell me.' I can almost never tell if she's joking. People tell me I do that, too.
Maybe she's smart like that. Maybe she's just keeping it like this because I'm leaving. I'm not sure I like it like this.
'Tell me.'
I point up at a random star. It's not even particularly bright. 'Because I don't like where that star is.'
Life is absurd. People tell me otherwise. I might think otherwise, but if I believe that it is, it might end up being that. At least it would make things simpler. You wouldn't need to speculate.
'What? What kind of answer is that?'
'A bad one.' She smacks me again.
I don't think I've ever told her I think stuff like that. Judging by how well this has gone, though, I don't think she'll care.
"Why do you want to know things? You can't really know things. Like, you can't know your neighbor here thinks it's cool we're on his curb. Well... he probably doesn't know we've ever been on his curb."
She give me a look. And smacks me again.[/ic]
I look through some of the older stuff every time I post. I can't believe I wrote some of that.
I'd like to say I grew up since then, but hell, look at what I write now... :3