Monday, May 15, 2017

Experiment 4 (in media res): Sewer Boys

“Why are you bringing us back here?” I questioned. “I've already spent enough time wading through sewage today.”

“Listen,” said Kurt, “we're on the right track and we've already come this far. We must have just missed some small offshoot or marking somewhere. Let's go around one more time and if we don't find anything, we can call it quits. Deal?”

“You're sick, but I'll do it.”

We kept wading through the sludge in semi-darkness. Our flashlights cut the rank atmosphere with large sweeping swathes of light, I felt like a bald, bipedal rodent in an oversized set of concrete hamster tubes. Only fitting for the domain of the Big Rat.

“Haven't we been here before?” I called out to Kurt, who had gone around the corner. “We're just walking in circles!”

“Of course we are,” his voice echoed back, “you agreed to retrace our steps one last time.”

“Well we've done that and then some. Look at that rusty pipe.” It was sticking out of the concave cement wall at just below waist level, and was leaking a lugubrious green sludge. “We've walked past it four times now. Just admit it, we're lost.”

“There's no way! On our first time through we only made right turns until we looked back around. This time we kept to our left and went the opposite direction. It's fool proof!”

“Well, foolproof or not--” I started.

“Wait a second. Has that graffiti always been there?” He pointed to a small black silhouette of a rat wearing a golden crown.

“So is it worse if it just showed up now? Or if we've walked around here four times and we've never seen it?”

“Either way, I was right. That makes this whole afternoon worth it!” Kurt declared with his hands on his hips.

“Alright, alright, you win,” I conceded. “But tell me, mighty Columbus of the sewer system, where do we go from here?”

“I don't know, look for like a hidden lever or something.” He wrapped both hands around the pipe and yanked it downward.

“There's no way--”

The tunnel began to rumble and the grating sounds of metal on concrete could be heard from below our feet. A four foot square of concrete had recessed back into the wall to reveal a new tunnel.

“After you.” he gestured toward the opening.


~


We crawled on our hands and knees through the opening and emerged on the other side in a tunnel system that looked identical to the one we had just left. The only difference was that the sewage was absent and in its place was a constant stream of rats.

“Oh Jesus” Kurt whispered. Then he grinned “Shall we go with the flow?”

At first we proceeded slowly, making sure that we weren't trampling on any of the rats, but we quickly realized that the rats were adept at avoiding being caught underfoot and we were able to move at a good pace.

“Hey Kurt?”

“Yeah, what's up?”

“How are we going to get out of here?” At this point we had probably walked at least half a mile away from the secret entrance into the Big Rat's domain.

“There's gotta be a back entrance or something, you can't expect me to believe that the Big Rat uses the same entrance we went through. To be honest I don't even think he would fit.”

The river of rats began to grow thicker and their scurrying was more frenzied. We were swept along by the tide of furry bodies into a large circular room completely covered with rats. In the center of the room was an enormous rat. It sat on its haunches on a raised dais. The rat had to be at least five feet tall and it was almost as wide.

“There's our guy,” said Kurt.

“Alright, great, now what?” I whispered back.

“We deliver our message.” He started to move forward through the throng of rats “excuse me... pardon me fellows...”

As he waded through the sea of normal sized rats I took a look around the room. The rats seemed to be trying to get as close to the Big Rat as possible, but were kept at bay by a ring of slightly larger rats at the dais's edge.

“Oh your corpulent majesty,” Kurt started. “I am here with a humble request from the surface dwellers.” The Big Rat's large black eyes turned to face the intruder.

“I am the Big Rat, so I make the rules.” He spoke with a deep squeak.

“Yes, yes, your mighty largeness. I understand how things work down here. But up above we play by a different set of rules. And I was sent to request that you please stop stealing coffins from our graveyards.”

A hush fell over the furry masses. Something was wrong, the Big Rat looked confused. I thought back to our initial instructions. Why would the Big Rat care about stealing human dead? He only cared about being the biggest rat—none of this made sense. Had we been set up? What exactly was the nature of our message?

The rats began to squeak. They started quietly, but slowly grew in volume.

“Kurt! We have to get out of here!” The rat's cacophony was almost deafening. The noise was echoing and reverberating throughout the concrete room. I could hardly think, I grabbed Kurt by the collar and ran for the exit.

Saturday, May 13, 2017

The Huntress

It was dark, but the moon was full
He had to run
run away

Over rocky ground and gnarled roots
Once trusted hands now grabbed and groped
dark shadows in the woods

He was so small, he was so scared
no one to help, nowhere to go
following the moonlight

Scrapes, cuts, bruises
the path was deadly
the bushes thick

He tripped and fell, sprawling in the dirt
the darkness closed in
menacingly close

The branches' long fingers clawed at the moonlight
the boy could not find the path
Tears splashed down in the soft dirt

A breeze parted the clouds and branches
to reveal the moonlight
and a woman

She stood in a clearing with arms outstretched
reaching out to him
wrapping him in a cool embrace

She smote his assailants with a crescent bow
while he slept peacefully in the light
He was safe

Thursday, May 11, 2017

A Final Weekly Update

What am I working on?
I'm currently finishing up my portfolio. I should have a poem done and up on the blog by tomorrow. I'll probably post all of the finished works that aren't experiments to the blog.


How do I feel about the process?
Things are going pretty well, I just haven't had a lot of time to work as I finish my work for other classes.


What am I reading?
I found a bunch of old Spider-Man comic books from the 60s and I've been reading those on my breaks.

Monday, May 8, 2017

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

What am I working on?
I've been working on my drama scene for the past week. I also made some minor progress with two poems that are in the early stages.


How do I feel about the process?
It didn't go very well. I had a rough time trying to convey the story I wanted to through the script format. My biggest problem was trying to convey the character's thoughts to the audience, as a lot of the story and development occurs within his mind. Maybe I should have picked an easier story for my first time trying to write a script.


What am I reading?
Not much. I've been gearing up for finals.

Friday, April 28, 2017

What am I working on?
I was working on my narrative short story, but after turning it in, I've held off on working on it. In the mean time, I've been working on a short story in media res based off of the second sentence prompt we were given in class on Wednesday. I also have ideas for two poems which I'll be working on for my portfolio at the end of the semester


How do I feel about the process?
I'm glad that I have something more or less readable for my narrative, but there is still so much work to be done on the story, I can't say that I'm really satisfied, even with the part I have done already. Something I noticed while working on the narrative was that I was having trouble writing descriptions of my characters in a natural way that would give the reader the full visual I have in my head. A lot of the time I think that character description can often be cut out of the story, so I have a hard time including everything I want to say about a character without if feeling forced. I'm happy with the way some of the characters have developed and interacted with each other so far though.


What am I reading?
I haven't been reading very much outside of short stories and poems for my other English class. In other media, I've been liking the new single from The Mountain Goats.
 

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

FILE.07 (Hot Dreams) unfinished



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;

“It'll be good for you Liz” her boss said. “I know how hard it is to travel abroad due to the industry, but with 00-Life you can travel anywhere or experience effectively anything with almost no hassle. Normally the cost is a bit much for your average schmuck, but I booked you and some of the other girls some spots on the twenty-seventh. You're always among our top earners and consistently bring in consistent profits. Consider this a thank you for all of your hard work.”

“Thanks Frank” she said, “but I'm not sure I fully understand what I'm getting into.”

He laughed a deep, resonant laugh. “Just have fun—you're over-thinking it. This is your chance to be anyone or go anywhere, no strings attached. It's not real, but it might as well be.”

“Ah.”

“Now if you'll excuse me, I believe that we both have some work to attend to.”

Knowing her cue, Elizabeth got up from her chair and headed toward the door, leaving Frank alone in his office. She always felt like Alice in Wonderland after leaving his office, everything inside was abnormally large in order to accommodate Frank properly. His desk and chair were a good foot higher than what a normal person would use and his hulking frame made them seem average. Even the door was enlarged in width and height to allow him to easily pass through. She grew in size from a child to an adult as she stepped out into the hallway that lead to the dressing room.

As she changed, Elizabeth checked the date, it was the twenty-fifth. Two more days. She could do two days.

“So what are you going to wish for?” it was Monique.

She was already dressed and sat with her legs crossed on the long couch at the back of the room and kicked her feet back and forth. Her straight black hair was cut into a bob with bangs that framed her mischievous face. She grinned.

Elizabeth was taken back to her first day at work, over a decade ago. She was young, afraid, and had been out of options. Monique had signed her contract only a few weeks before Elizabeth and had helped her adjust to her new life. With her pale skin, petite body, and penchant for misbehavior she had earned the nickname of “imp” from Frank. To Elizabeth she was a guardian angle, in spite of her blunt speech and often abrasive habits.

“Oh, so you knew about this 00-Life business already? And when were you planning on telling me?”

“Actually I've known for a few weeks, but I was waiting to make sure that it wasn't just the big man trying to get revenge on me.”

“Revenge? What'd you do this time?”

“He's been on my case for smoking too close to the side entrance again. Something about 'keeping up appearances' or whatever. Keeping up appearances? We work in a fucking brothel!” she let out a quick twinkle of laughter. Elizabeth thought that she sounded like a fairy and found herself trying to suppress a giggle of her own.

“You should really--” she started.

“Yeah, yeah. Stop smoking, it's bad for my health and all that” Monique replied with a singsong voice. “I don't smoke because it's good for me. I do it because it makes me look cool and sexy, she blew Elizabeth a kiss.

“LADIES, YOU'VE GOT FIVE MINUTES” the receptionist's voice came hammering through the door.

“THANKS PEGGY” Monique hollered back. Then she laughed again. “Damn it feels good to yell. You ready Lizzy?”

“Yeah,” she double checked her makeup in the mirror. “Let's go.”


Peggy was waiting for them at her desk. She was an imposing woman in her late fifties and was probably quite beautiful in the past, but now kept a much more matronly figure. Her long red hair was tied up in a tight bun and she was almost never seen without her tortoise shell glasses. Though Frank was the owner of the business and provided the money for its upkeep, Peggy was their true boss. She kept the building running and well maintained while making sure that appointments where scheduled and properly adhered to. She looked up from her computer.

“Monique, I have no appointments for you, so you've on standby for now.”

“God. Again?”

Being on standby wasn't so bad, because if there were no walk ins or you weren't requested midway through the night, you didn't have to work. But if you didn't have a client, you also didn't make money off commission or tips.

“As for you Liz, you've been booked for the whole night by one 'Louie Lowman'.”

“Lucky” muttered Monique under her breath.

Elizabeth mulled over the name, she couldn't remember any regulars who went by that alias, especially not anyone who would put in a request for her specifically.

“This will be his first time booking with us, so I'm glad that he'll be in your care” Peggy continued, ignoring the interruption. “It seems that he saw you in one of our late night ads, so at least those weren't a complete waste of money. He'll be here at 10:00.”

“Oooh, a secret admirer” teased Monique as she headed for the side door. “Good luck!”

“You better not be going out to smoke already!”

“Oh, I wouldn't dream of it Peggy!”

;

So this was Louie. Elizabeth sized him up, he didn't amount to much. He was an old man, maybe in his mid-to-late seventies; short of stature with a slender frame and dressed in an antiquated style. His wire frame spectacles were perched on a sharp nose and his thin, clean-shaven face was creased all over from a lifetime's worth of emotions. In his hands he held a flat cap and it's absence revealed a thinning head of slicked-back silver hair.

“Hi, I'm Lou,” he introduced himself with a handshake.

“Well come this way Lou” she said. “I'll be taking good care of you tonight.”

“Oh I'd like that” he grinned sheepishly, “It's been such a long time since anyone's taken care of me.”

She beckoned for him to follow with a curl of her index finger and he followed her down the hallway to room 103. She sat down on the edge of the bed, he sat in an armchair in the corner of the room.

“So, Mr. Loman, what can I do for you this evening?”

She reached for his belt.

“No no” he interrupted her, “that won't be necessary. I just wanted someone to talk to. You remind me of my late wife Eleanor, you see. I thought if I could just talk with you I wouldn't feel so old.” He looked so small, like a child in their grandfather's recliner. “You know, I used to be afraid of getting old, but here I am—an old man. I guess it snuck up on me.” He chuckled sadly. “I miss her, I really do, but I have to wait until the good lord calls. She wouldn't be happy if she knew it was by my doing, no sir...” he trailed off. Elizabeth found herself stroking his arm consolingly. “This might be a bit much to ask” Lou ventured, “but do you sing? Eleanor had the most wonderful voice and she would sing to me when I was stressed.”

“Sorry, but I don't think--” started Elizabeth.

“No, no don't worry about it, just do your best, I'm sure it will be wonderful. As long as it's something slow I'll be asleep in no time at all.”

Elizabeth started to hum a song she had heard on the radio. She didn't think that she was a particularly talented singer, but halfway through the second verse, Lou was fast asleep. She took off his glasses and laid them on an end table next to his cap before slipping quietly out into the hallway.

“Peggy! He's asleep. It's only been like fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, so soon? I figured he wouldn't take all night, but he instructed me beforehand to let you know that you could leave when he fell asleep. He paid your rate for the whole night, so you effectively have a paid vacation. Some men are strange like that.”


Elizabeth left to look for Monique. She found her loitering around by the side entrance.

“Glad to see you not smoking at least.”

“Yeah, well I can't afford it if I don't get any work. Unlike you, I don't have a Mr. Moneybags to full book me every night. Speaking of which, how was Mr. Lowman?”

Elizabeth explained her encounter with the old man.

“Damn” sighed Monique. “I wish I looked like some old guy's dead wife.”

;

“Anything catch your eye Ma'am?”

“Well, quite a few things actually. Do you have any recommendations? This is my first time here.”

“Oh don't worry,” said the attendant. “Plenty of people are only able to join us for a single session, so I often recommend that they start somewhere in the middle of a longer simulation that they're interested in so that they can get right to the action” she smiled. “in media res, if you will.”

Elizabeth looked back at the options menu. Even if she ignored the “Create Your Own” button there were still hundreds of pre-made scenarios for her to choose from. Each simulation had its own little preview window on the screen, often highlighting decadent riches or incredible opportunities for adrenaline highs. Others showed strange alternate worlds where fantastic beasts roamed and the normal rules of Earth no longer applied.

But she was drawn toward a rather unassuming preview. In the picture an old brick red SUV with a black roof rack was parked in front of a cabin in the woods. The cabin was paneled with dark brown wood and had green and white painted trim. Smoke gently curled up from the chimney and a warm golden light radiated outward through the cabin's many large glass windows. It was all so nicely nestled in between strong, dark pines. Ferns and moss covered the ground where there was no path and wrapped the base of the trees. The simulation was titled; “Family: Old Growth Forest”.

“I think I'd like to try this one.”

;

Elizabeth came to on her back in an all-white room with the glow of white fluorescent lights overhead. She was in a large bed with freshly pressed white sheets. The room was slightly cool, but she was comfortable under the blankets. Machines made gentle whirrs and murmurs in the background. She felt pleasantly tired, as if she had just completed a long workout.

The door opened and a plump nurse entered with a small bundle in her arms and a satisfied smile on her round face.

“Congratulations Ms. Smith. I'll be returning Jonathan to you now.” She handed the newborn to Elizabeth. “I'll let you rest now dear. Press the call button if you need anything.” She slowly backed out of the room and gently closed the door behind her with an affectionate wave.

Finally alone, Elizabeth looked down at the child in her arms. She was amazed at how small he was, how intricate were his hands and fingers. He reached a tiny pink hand upward and grabbed her by the finger. She wept.

;

“Monique, I wish you could have been there, it was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.”

“I don't know—Fiji was pretty beautiful too. You should try that simulation if we ever get the chance to use it again.”

“If? We have to. It was so real. I have to see what he looks like all grown up!” said Elizabeth.

“Lizzy, do you know how expensive that one session was? Maybe if you don't eat for a few weeks you could pay for another one, but what's the point? It's just another distraction. It's not real. We should keep saving our money so that we can buy out our contracts and put down a deposit on a place up north.”

“Yeah...” said Elizabeth, her eyes out of focus. “Up north... I think I'd like that.”

“Just think about it” said Monique, “the dark green of the trees, the fresh mountain air. It'll be like a postcard, we'll have a cabin or a nice rustic cottage—we just have to endure through another five years of this shit.”

She had finished undressing and stood barefoot next to Elizabeth in a green gossamer slip.

“It would be like a dream.”

“No Lizzy, it's not just a dream. We can make it happen! Think of all the money we've been saving. We're on the right track, we have a plan, we have a way out—it just takes time.” Her normally diminutive five foot three frame had grown with her passionate energy. Monique was an imposing force, an Atlas—who could lift and shrug off the world with the strength of her conviction. “Now go out and make a billionaire exceptionally happy and see if he'll donate to take a year or two off our sentence.


That evening was a rush of flesh and whispers for Elizabeth, but their probing grasps and rough words never penetrated her inner sanctum. For the first time in a long while she could retreat inside herself to an inner room. With the blinds drawn the carnal world rushed along outside without disturbance.


Elizabeth took off her slip and put it on to the pile to be washed. She stepped into the dark shower, with its small, crimson-red tiles and large rainfall shower head.. She adjusted the handles and let the warm water flow over her bare skin. She watched as it swirled between her toes and down the drain. She thought about the 00-Life simulation and about Jonathan. Did babies need to be bathed? How often? Did she have to use a special soap? Elizabeth realized that she had no clue as to how to take care of a baby.

“I'm home” she announced to her dark apartment. The conspicuous emptiness answered back. She dropped her work bag by her shoes and flicked on the light. Her sock-clad soles padded across the living room carpet into the linoleum of the kitchen. She wasn't particularly hungry, but knew that she had to eat something. There should still be some frozen dinners in the freezer. She picked one out at random and put it into the microwave. Elizabeth looked at the box as her future meal rotated in the light—Salisbury steak. Wasn't that just a fancy name for a hamburger patty? Maybe she should learn to cook.

;

Experiment 15: A letter to my 100 year old self

Hello me, it's you. The 2017, twenty-one year old you from seventy-nine years ago. Let's agree to ignore the mess of pronouns and just use whatever pops into our head. To be honest, I'm surprised that we made it to one-hundred. Hopefully we found something fun to spend our time on along the way, or someone to spend it with. Do we have robotic wrists to replace our garbage fleshy ones yet? I hope we still have all our mental faculties together, our family doesn't have the greatest track record with that. Can I even address you as we? How much of the me who is writing this letter is still left eight decades from now? Did you kill me off in favor of a better version of myself along the way? Or did you just swap out the bad parts and add on new ones to create a patchwork version of us? Do you still like the same things that I do now? Please make it a priority to join Starfleet if that's an option, it should be coming up soon.

Have fun lad.

Thursday, April 20, 2017

Weekly Update (on time)

What am I working on?
Now that I've finished my poem, I'm just working on my narrative story which is due this coming Monday. I'm not sure how long the story will be when I turn it in, but it is not likely to be complete in 2400 words.


How do I feel about the process?
I've been making slow process and one of my main struggles has been pacing the development of the main character. I'm so used to writing short stories which are complete in around 1000 words that I try to push through the story too quickly. 


What am I reading?
I like the style of "The Veldt" by Ray Bradbury, especially how he stacks lines of dialogue without "he said" or other verbs, so I've been rereading that short story. I'm also still reading H. P. Lovecraft short stories.

Monday, April 17, 2017

I'm in Love with a Ghost

I bought a house out in the countryside.
Where I met Alice
She has unfinished business.

I cannot touch her, but I can feel her.
Like a cool weight
or a pressure on my chest.

We talk and play board games.
Chess and checkers
I move the pieces for both of us.

She can reach out and touch the world.
But it is very tiring
so she doesn't do it often.

She says she used to be a voracious reader.
Now I read to her
or play audiobooks.

One night there was a thunderstorm.
She hid under the covers
I laughed.

“What does a ghost have to be scared about”
“Shut up” she said.
We watched reruns of Tom and Jerry.

She likes to watch me cook.
She loves the smell
but eating is impossible.

I asked if she could glide through walls.
She said she can
it is uncomfortable.

“How would you like it if I pass a wall through you!”
I conceded
it sounded unpleasant.

She wears clothes from a different era.
And said she didn't need to sleep.
She takes naps.

My friends can't see her.
They tell me I'm crazy
the cat can see her though.

He hangs around the house and rubs against her ankles.
I have no idea where he came from.
She named him Eugene.

Sometimes visitors can see her
but never directly.
“I feel like someone's watching me.”

On nice evenings we sit on the porch and map constellations.
Me on the bench
her just above it.

“I can only remember the Little Dipper and Orion.
What's your favorite?”
“Vega and Altair.”

For the longest time I didn't ask her about her unfinished business.
It felt too personal.
Something for the ego alone.

“What was the afterlife like?”
“I don't remember.
I still feel alive.”

“Don't you want to pass on?”
“Of course not” she laughed.
“You'd be lonely without me.”

She was right.

Sunday, April 16, 2017

Happy Easter update

What am I working on?
I've been working on my narrative poem a lot this past week along with my narrative for the second narrative assignment.


How do I feel about the process?
I've been struggling with expanding the poem into larger slice of life blocks as I explained in class. The flow of the poem as a whole has suffered as I expanded it, so I might scrap that idea and just make it one long poem.


What am I reading?
I've been reading short stories by H. P. Lovecraft from an anthology I checked out from the library. Though I am not a super huge fan of the horror genre, I like his style of writing.

Sunday, April 9, 2017

Word Count wSunday

What am I working on?
I've been steadily moving forward with my 20 Master Plots experiment and I think I'll turn it into my second narrative assignment. I am also working of a sort of narrative poem in non-rhyming tercets, which I will post once I finish.


How do I feel about the process?
I'm pretty happy with the structure of my poem so far. Usually I just default to full free verse because I have had very little success with structured meter. However, I am not happy with the tone of the poem. I intended to go with a comfortable, happy feeling; but reading it over it feels much too melancholy.


What am I reading?
I haven't really been reading much this past week. I have been doing my taxes though.

Thursday, March 30, 2017

Weekly Checkup

What am I working on?
I've been working on my narrative based on my Master Plots chapter. I am also working on a poem for the next experiment. I had an idea for a Villanelle, but was struggling for rhymes with "mama" so I might have to rethink things.


How do I feel about the process?
I've actually been getting a good amount of writing done in my car before my classes. I usually get to campus 15 to 20 minutes before class and I've been able to get three pages done in that down time so far this week.


What am I reading now?
I've been reading the short story "The Swimmer" by John Cheever for my other English class and 20 Master Plots.

Monday, March 27, 2017

Experiment 9: The Greenhouse

I was planning on recording a reading of this story, but the time I had alone was interrupted by the chainsaws and wood chipper of tree-trimmers on my street. Here's the text. I'll still get a recording done, but unfortunately not in time for today's class.




The Greenhouse


It was too hot. Not blazingly so, but decidedly uncomfortable, and enough to make a person sweat. Lieutenant Elliott DeWitt unzipped his flight suit down to the waist, slipped off the arms—tying them around his midriff to form makeshift olive green pants—leaving the rest of his body covered by a standard issue white tee shirt and field boots.

It was still too hot.

You would think that for a mission to one of the coldest planets in the solar system, the crew of six could have been put up in a slightly cooler hab. He looked around. The majority of his fellow crew members had followed suit in modifying their flight one-piece in an attempt to beat the pervasive heat.

Elliott took off his white boots and set them beside his station. They weren't going to be going anywhere soon, this was an observational operation, and besides, it was so cold on the surface of the planet that exposure to the atmosphere was hazardous even for a moment without proper protection. He was now left in his long white tube socks, and still uncomfortable and still hot.

Perhaps heat wasn't even the best word to describe how it felt. It was congested, the heat lay heavy on the stale air, like a smog on a windless day. Being inside didn't help things either. Even though the air was being circulated from room to room, it seemed as if it came back thicker each time it passed through the ventilation systems. The air felt dense and sleepy, deadening any energy or clarity of the crew. It was as if everyone had to walk around in an overly-warm haze.

“Hey Captain,” he swiveled around in his terminal chair, “How about we crack a window or something? I'm suffocating in here.”

Captain Ellen Fitzroy looked at Elliott.

“You know that's not possible.”

“Aw, c'mon it'll only instantly freeze us. At least we won't be hot anymore.”

“No.”

“At least let us strip down to our skivvies.”

She had given up on the conversation and returned to what little work they had remaining at the outpost.

“DeWitt, you will be assigned the middle watch tonight. And put your shoes back on.”

Too far. Sometimes he could joke around with the Captain, but she always made sure to keep the crew focused on duties first. Middle watch was the worst. At least with first or last, you could just pretend that you were staying up late or waking up early, but with the middle—he finished re-lacing his boots—you were guaranteed to have to wake up right as you were hitting the good restful sleep.

~

Fisher, the second in command, woke him up to start his night's watch. Elliott hadn't slept well, he was always restless when it was too warm. Walking over to the window he pressed his hand against the inner glass. Not even cold here, he lamented, as the hab had been designed with large series of windows, allowing view out onto the planet's surface, but with enough insulation between the panes that the glass on the inside was the same detestable warmth that bled throughout the building.

Looking out over the alien landscape it didn't seem very cold outside. No real snow like on Earth, and it was all so still, so quiet. The first moon was just beginning to peak over the horizon, throwing long shadows across the rocky surface. The lunar light danced around the outside of the hab with a tantalizing crispness, as if mocking the stuffy glow produced by the bulbs around him.

The crew was asleep and he was alone now, alone with the stifling, muggy heat, looking out into the glittering night landscape. If only there was a way he could just get a little breath of that cold, revitalizing air; like when a child sticks only their nose and mouth out from under a heavy blanket to take a crisp inhale of the night. He looked around. Fitzroy's body rose and fell rhythmically as she breathed. The room felt droopy with heat, tired and motionless. It clung to him like a wrapping. He sat down, then quickly stood up again, but could not shake the warm, enveloping air which followed his every move. It filled every nook and cranny of the hab. He reached for his canteen and took a sip of water.

Warm.

Try as he might, he could not escape the seditious atmosphere. His skin began to itch. He took off his pants and his shirt, but it did not help. He felt like he was too hot on the inside. He was bursting with warmth. It pulsed in his fingers and toes, he could feel it like static through his skin, itching to get out, get out. The heat drew around him, muffling his senses and squeezing him from all sides. Tighter, tighter it embraced him; he could not breathe, he needed fresh air. He scrambled about, looking for a window, a door, a hatch, anything to escape from the poisonous warmth of the hab. He had to get out before it was too late.

What was one little cracked window, just for a moment, just enough to let the cold in? He looked across to the crew, lifeless in their bunks. Carefully, silently, he moved past their beds toward the wall of glass observation windows. He placed his hands against the latches and his fingers throbbed, they ached for a cold release. Everyone was asleep, no one could stop him. He seized the handle to open the window. His flesh undulated with glee. It was so hot, there was nothing he could do, he had no other choice.

~

Warning sirens blared throughout the hab, as hot red lights flashed out across the cold, barren landscape.


Thursday, March 23, 2017

Chugging Along

What am I working on?
I've been working on my story for experiment #7 which I mentioned in class. Unfortunately I don't have anything worth sharing yet, but eventually I will post that story here. I also got an idea for a story using the Descension plot.


How do I feel about the process?
I'm excited to continue working on my story, but it is slow goings as I have only been able to work in small chunks of time. I would like to sit down over the weekend and try to write until I run out of ideas and am forced to think of what happens next. Right now I feel like I know what will happen up to a point, I just haven't gotten it down on paper yet.


What am I reading now?
I've been rereading sections of Rod Serling's Night Gallery Reader which is a collection of short stories which Serling used for episodes of his show Night Gallery. Some of the stories are much better than others, but the good ones are exceptionally well done. I'm also watching the 1985 version of Death of a Salesman in my other English class.

Wednesday, March 8, 2017

What am I working on?
I spent the majority of my time this past week working on a research paper and other midterm projects. I did spend a bit of time before writing this post working on the outline for my story based off of the master plot "Sacrifice."


How do I feel about the process?
I'm going to try to write a little bit each day over spring break and then try to carry that momentum along when classes start up again.


What am I reading now?
I'm reading On Writing and I'm going to try to finish Don Quixote over the break.

Wednesday, March 1, 2017

What am I working on?
I was working on my short story for presentation for the latter half of last week. I should have finished the second segment of the story, but I got the idea for a sort of apocalyptic world in which trains are the main form of transportation and engineers are like pirate captains. A very bleak and desolate world, very dirty, oily, and dusty. I wrote down a bunch of character descriptions for the railroad titans, who hold great power and influence in their society. I also did some general world building and tossed around some scenarios to use as a jumping off point to start. I want to try and write this story as a pantser. My current idea is for the main character to find a young girl of five or six. He doesn't particularly want to raise her, so he tries to find a place to dump her off that is at least relatively safe.


How do I feel about the process?
I am really enjoying world building for this new story as it gives me an opportunity to use some of the more outlandish characters which I have had on my mind, but who never had a world to live in or a story attached to them. I also am excited to try writing without plotting as much.


What am I reading now?
I'm currently reading As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner and On Writing.

Monday, February 27, 2017

Field of Dreams: Segment 1

       The Halleys lived on a small farm in Eureka, USA. Emily Halley was an accountant and worked in the state's largest metropolitan area. She woke up before the sun each morning in order to make her commute. George Halley wasn't asleep for much longer, as he ran the farm and spent almost every daylight hour out in the fields, tending to the crops.
       Jeffrey Halley was eight and he liked space. Jeffrey also had a hyperactive imagination and very few close friends to spend time with. He liked to play pretend, and he was good at it. Sometimes it felt like he had spent days away from the farm when his mother would call him in for dinner and the spell would be broken. Sometimes he could hardly remember what was real and what was something conjured up in his day dreams.
~
       Tonight, there was something different. A bright star, right in the middle of the Little Dipper's pan. Jeffrey made a note of this on his map and decided that he would keep track of the new star's progress. How exciting! It could be visitors from another planet, or a return rocket with some of the Federation's highest brass, even a meteor—with unknown elements that he could be the first to discover.
       “Jeffrey?”
       His door slowly opened. It was his mother.
       “Remember the talk that we had about staying up past your bedtime? I know that you don't have school tomorrow, but you're already up an hour past what we agreed on. This is a warning. Next time I'll have to take your telescope.”
       Jeffrey retracted his prized possession back inside the room, and promptly slid his pajama-clad body into bed, drawing the covers up to his chin.
       “Thank you,” his mother whispered, as she kissed him on the forehead, “Goodnight”.
       “Goodnight mom” he whispered back.
       He had a hard time falling asleep, even with his telescope put away. He was too excited about the new star.
~
       Today he would be flying deep into uncharted space. He had to be extra careful and prepared for anything; nebula dragons, or alien pirates, he could even get sucked into a multi-dimensional hole if he wasn't careful. Spaceship captain Jeffrey adjusted his helmet and blasted off the farm into the unknown.

       Everything was going according to plan when suddenly red lights flashed and an automated “Warning! Warning! Warning!” rang out from the ship's computer. Jeffrey checked his scanners—it was an atomic meteor storm! He had to land. And soon.
       Up ahead he saw a green and brown planet—it would be his best chance for survival. But he was going too fast! An emergency crash landing was his only option. He squeezed tightly on the brakes of his ship, the point of impact was getting closer and closer.
       One hundred miles.
       Fifty miles.
       Twenty miles.
       Ten.
       Five.
       In a plume of dust and sediment, Jeffrey's craft was abruptly acquainted with the surface of the alien planet. Jeffrey stepped out of the ship and looked around.
       He was completely surrounded by some sort of alien race. They were tall and thin, with oblong heads and multiple undulating appendages that oscillated gently in the breeze. There was no clear leader among their ranks—and they were in ranks. Row upon row they stood, in perfectly straight lines, each rank equally spaced, without a single member breaking file.
       “Hello!” said Jeffrey, “I come in peace.”
       The aliens hissed and rattled at him in some language that he could not understand. Swaying in unison, they did not seem rather dangerous, but were still unwelcoming.
Jeffrey decided to take his chances, and pushed forward through the first line of creatures. There was no response. Now through the second line. Still no action to impede his progress from the multitude. They now began to hiss again, but did not take any action against the stranded pilot.
      “How strange” thought Jeffrey. “That they spent all that time lining up like that, but don't mind me moving between them.” It seemed to him that the ocean of creatures spread out all the way to the horizon—and with no distinguishable marker other than his own ship—he decided to move away from the crash site along the channels naturally created by the alien’s single file lines.

      He was in no particular hurry, but he was curious about this new planet. Where did all of these creatures live? Who was their ruler? And why were they so insistent on lining up the way they did? Periodically he would let out a cry of “Hello” over their ranks just to see if he could get an answer.
       Still nothing.
       The sun was much lower in the sky now and he began to feel discouraged. Perhaps it would have been better to take his chances back with the meteor storm. There was nothing to find here but row upon row of the same green creatures.
       “Hello!” ventured Jeffrey.
       “Hello,” something returned.
       Jeffrey stopped. He had played make believe many times before, and met many strange and wonderful beings, but never once had they said anything back to him. At least not in a way which he could understand. He looked around for the source of the cool, measured voice.
       Off to his right there was a clearing, where a large group of the green creatures had been knocked down, bowed back, and scattered and at the far end there was a ship and something moving around next to it.
       “What are you doing here?” exclaimed Jeffrey.
       “I'm lost” lamented the thing. “I crashed here and my ship is too damaged for me to continue.”
       “I crashed too” giggled Jeffrey.
       “Oh?” inquired the thing.
       “Yes, just over there,” he pointed off in the direction he had come.
       “Do you think you could boost my ship back into hyperspace?”
       Too embarrassed to mention that his own ship was incapable of such a feat, Jeffrey shook his head no.
       The thing looked up at the clear blue sky, “What is the name of this planet?”
       “Earth!”
       “Earth? I am not familiar with that name. I don't know where that is. I'm hopelessly lost” the thing droned.
       Jeffrey though back to what he knew about the solar system, looking for any information which could help the stranded pilot.
       “Our solar system is in the Milky Way Galaxy, I could show you a map if you'd like!”
       “Oh yes that would be wonderful” said the thing, but its brief moment of hope was dashed by the realization that the ship had no power and it returned to moping around and looking forlornly up into the sky.
       At a loss for words Jeffrey just stood and watched the thing.
       "Jeffrey! Come in, it's time for dinner!”
       He quickly stammered out “I-I'll be back tomorrow” and ran off in the direction of his mother's voice.

       That night Jeffrey went to sleep happy. He had made a new friend.

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

What am I working on?
I'm still tuning my short story for my narrative submission. Both adding pages and editing what i have already written.

How do I feel about the process?
I really enjoy the feeling that the story is coming together, but i'm not enjoying having to work on the tough parts that I skipped over last week.

What am I reading now?
I'm still reading On Writing and I read the short story "The Chrysanthemums" by John Steinbeck.

Thursday, February 16, 2017

I'm Late

What am I working on?
I've been working on a short story for my narrative submission. I added around a page of new content and have been editing the opening of the story. I also have a decent number of notes that I haven't put into the story yet.


How do I feel about the process?
I am enjoying the process because at this stage there is always something to work on, so if I get stuck on one part of the story I can work somewhere else and come back to the tricky segment later.


What am I reading now?
I'm finishing up In Our Time by Ernest Hemingway and I just started Sylvie and Bruno by Lewis Carroll.

Wednesday, February 8, 2017

Weekly Checkup

What am I working on?
This week I've been working on multiple short stories. I spent most of my time editing a draft to bring in to share with the rest of House Anglebent, but I also worked on two other pieces which are still to raw to share.


How do I feel about the process?
I like editing, because it helps me to really carve the story out of the rough block of the draft. This time around I felt that I needed to rewrite a lot of portions of the story because they weren't up to snuff. I'm still not happy with it overall, but I know which sections are pretty much fine to leave after talking with my housemates.


What am I reading now?
I'm starting In Our Time by Ernest Hemingway for another class.