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Post-A-Story
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(spoken in a british accent) Well my darlings, the post a poem thread is so smashing that I daresay a post a story thread is in order. I have many a story and poem to post and Id love to read all of yours! Hers a goodun I wrote recently. Standing In Line Lets see how deep we can make this chasm. I thought this to myself as I looked down into the depths of the shopping bag. I finished scanning the items and loaded up the cart. I had had that very thought almost every time I'd bagged an item. It was damn near ritualistic. I'm not sure where it came from, it just appeared in my head one day. If asked there's a pretty good chance I wouldn't be able to pin down exactly when said day was, I've been working the Quick and Save for the better part of ten years, though by no means were those years "better" then any other time in my life. I finally actually look up into the face of the customer I've been servicing. Funny thing how you never actually see the person's face until they are just leaving. I always busy myself so much with all the menial tasks that are involved in the not so intricate dance of cashier work that I never really take the time to see my customers. This man was not so much different then all the others. Medium height, medium skin tone, medium hair color, it was all so mundane, so monotonous. I despised this job and would have most definitely quit if it hadn't been for my cheapskate roommate of a friend. This so called buddy of mine has yet to make a single rent payment. Why I continue to take his crap I'll never really know. Strange how that thought made me queasy all of the sudden. Almost like a premonition. That was ridiculous of course, why would a thought of not knowing why I don't kick my roommate to the curb give me the willies? I have never trusted my instincts and now wasn't the time to start. Another customer pulls in to the line. Of course it has to be a ninety year old woman with a seventy pound bag of cat food. And it would only be my luck to have it facing a direction that I cant possibly scan without lifting the darn thing on to the counter. I sigh and walk around to help her out. She notices the sigh and my attitude and may be embarrassed from the look she gives me or she may just be annoyed. I'm am really hoping its embarrassment. Embarrassment I can live with but annoyance will just end up pissing me off. She pays for her items and asks for someone to help her out at her car. I sigh again and pick up the phone to call a maintenance person. She doesn't like my sighing or the eye roll I add on for good measure but she leaves without complaint. All the better that she did. Right away another customer comes up. I get through his entire order before looking up to see some mexican dude holding out a fifty and giving me this dumb-ass "I don't speaky english" look. I tell him that the money he's giving me isn't enough and he just keeps on trying to hand it over. I really get aggravated with him and I'm close to yelling before he finally realizes that he can just look at the stupid credit card machine and see his total. He hands over another fifty and in no time and I have him out of the store. Not a moment too soon either, he smelled like rotten garbage. I look down and see that he has left a small bottle from the pharmacy. He is still walking out the door but I decide that hes given me enough grief for the day. Its only been twenty minutes and already I'm steaming. It doesn't help anything that I am well aware of my managers thoughts on firing my ass. All around I'm feeling pretty disgruntled and my reaction is slightly poor when the next gentleman in line drops a large mixed up pile of clothing directly on to the deactivation pad. I start to yell as the pads security tag alert goes off," Hey pal, you want to get your fuc-". I stop mid-sentence. Right in the middle of my little tirade I look up in to his face and see.... nothing. All there is is this great gaping gory cavern where a normal face should be. He looks like someone whose just given up on life and taken the shotgun to his head. I nearly sick up in the trash can under my counter. In a state of near hysteria I frantically search the eyes of the people around me. Nobody seems to notice anything out of the ordinary. That may have been the most terrifying detail of all. No-one even noticed him. I almost wet my pants when he or it spoke to me,"You haven't been very nice to your customers. I've been watching you. In a service oriented business thats not a very good quality to have." He says all of this while a small dribble of blood leaks down his chin. "That poor woman you huffed and puffed at was just trying to buy food for her cats. Those cats are all she has left in the world and she spends what little pension money she makes on them instead of herself. Instead of handing a little warmth and good human cheer in her direction you make her sad and all the more aware of her pathetic condition. She is going to go home and take a bath with a toaster." I do not ask how it knows this. I'm not even able to breathe. He's not done yet though. "That latino man you nearly screamed at. He used the last months worth of paychecks to buy food, clothing, and medicine for his sick daughter. He only just got enough money to do this. He is an illegal immigrant and the factory he works for ten cents an hour at pays him cash under the counter once a month. His daughter will die of pneumonia because you didn't feel like smelling a dirty mexican any more than you had to. Thats not a humanly thing to do at all." I don't notice I am crying until my hand moves in to a wet spot on the counter. I had long since lost control of my bladder. "I think that we should see just how deep we can make this chasm of mine. Maybe then you will see a little of the pain you have caused." As he finishes his last statement he rushes forward and jams my face into the gaping hole that is the front of it's head. I lose it. My screams are cut short as I hear something. An old woman weeps in my ears. I hear her shooing animals away. I then can see her climbing fully clothed in to a bath tub full of freezing water. It never occurs to me how I know the water is cold. I yell out to her as she picks up the toaster. Moments before the appliance hits the water the scene changes. I see a dark room in an obviously run down house. A man is crying and holding something to his shoulder. He keeps calling out a name. Anita. He is saying anita. A closer look shows a very pale and limp little girl in his arms. I am crying again. This time it is not in fear but in moral agony that I shed tears. I know that I am the cause of this. Time and again I am shown through terrible scenes of pain and loss. Not all are as bad as the first and some are worse. Finally as I am about to sink into a pit of despair where there can be no return I am thrown in to one final scene of chaos. A terrible sound deafens me. It is like a thousand trains whistling at once. No. Not trains. Screams. Women, children, all screaming. I see blood. Its everywhere. I wake slowly to voices all around me. "Are you okay Steven?" My eyes clear a little. "Jesus, he pissed himself!". Faces become clearer. Im in my aisle. The clock reads three minutes have passed. I start to scream. Later the therapists all have their own theories on what happened to me. I was too stressed out by the conditions of my job, I was depressed, I had some sort of strange version of a sleeping disease. All of them commented on how nice I was to everyone in the home. They believed it just another side effect of my previous job. Really it is because I no longer see faces or people anymore. All they have are chasms begging me to judge their depth.  |
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Re: Post-A-Story
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(Took place after the Sun, The Moon and The Eclipse quest) Every great hero that has ever lived, They lived for one thing and one thing only, They live for themselves, for their pride and glory, That’s what made them survivors That’s what made them a legend...... (Excerpt from Miriel of Concordia) If I fall, I will rise again, If I die, I will revive again, If I Lose I will gain it back I will return..... (Excerpt from Fenix, the Darklord of Chaos in the battle of Crimson dawn) ************************************************** *************** The dessert had slowly left his sight. What remains is a patch of barren wasteland and a river that runs north to a shore that is located half a mile from where he is, from the distance Serapis could clearly see a port city, finally after hours of traveling through the black dessert, he has finally found a civilization. The port city made of bricks is a welcoming sight for his fatigued body, even for an Ancient, to survive this long in the open dessert is no small feat, he craves for a piece of bread atleast, water and a bed. After a few minutes of walking along the sand covered road leading to the Anebrillith, he finally found himself upon the gatehouse leading into the city. Alas, civilization….I thought the last thing I would see would be sands and dunes. Near the gatehouse are 2 guards standing facing each other, conversing. “Halt! What business do you have here?†asked one of the guard as soon as he catched a glimpse of Serapis, the guard clad in chainmail armor and armed with a pike and shortsword, the sturdy young guardsman looks to be in his 20’s. “I seek shelter as well as a place to rest after long hours of traveling through this unforgiving sand†he replied, while remain hidden beneath his hood. The guard replied with a suspicious looks but then looks behind to his partner and nods. “Very well, you’re allowed into the city, but we’ll be watching you†the guard said in a threatening voice, although he didn’t see it, Serapis replied with a cynical smile at him before proceeding to the city. He went in and arrived to the market district, perhaps the busiest and industrious district in Anebrillith. Traders, merchants and stall keeper were the ones who greet him with promotion of their goods. To his right is a row of shophouses and to his left is a row of abandoned buildings. The whole place was busy with peoples and not to mention noisy. Serapis hates this, he hate those who disrupts his silence, his tranquility. The Chaos-Knight quickly straightened up his hood and walks away from the bazaar. Although he knew not where to find someone who could translate the scroll for him but for now he is planning to find an inn, the dessert travel had taken much from him, even as an Ancient he still needed rest just like any other mortal creatures. “Sir! might I interest you in something of a trend these days†suddenly a merchant came upon him, offering his goods. The casually clad merchant is holding something in his hand, a purple glass bottle possibly a perfume. Serapis quickly shook his head as a sign of no, but the merchant still won’t leave him. “Oh come on now good sir, this is the latest trend here in Anebrillith, it’ll make you popularâ€, “No, I do not need it†even after saying that the merchant persist that Serapis bought it. “Why won’t you need it?†he said, “I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you a sample of it…†However before the merchant could spray the perfume to Serapis, he quickly lift his head revealing his sharp cat-like eyes and from the looks of it, he wasn’t pleased. “I said, I do NOT need it!!†he pouts. The frightened and bewildered merchant took a few steps back, fear can clearly be seen through his eyes. After that the merchants look to him with fear and suspicious as he walk to the nearby rows of shophouses. There are 2 rows of shophouses at each sides of the road, however the shophouses district are much quieter than the hectic bazaar. His eyes trace each and every one of the shophouses until he came upon a 2 storey high building. The brick made building is graced with the appearance of flower decoration on both storeys. Without any hesitation he quickly walks in, hoping to find a comfortable bed for his tired body. The lobby is filled with tables and chairs to accommodate customers who are waiting to make reservations, lucky for the young ancient of course that there aren’t anyone except for an old man sitting on a chair behind the reception table and judging from his appearance he must be the inn keeper. The old man seems occupied with something, Serapis walks slowly to the innkeeper his eyes focus on what the innkeeper is holding in his hand behind the reception table. As soon as he got a few feets from the table the innkeeper quickly looks up, “Yes?†he suddenly said, the way the old man reacted, it is as if he had known it the whole time he was there. Suddenly the old man’s gaze met Serapis’s cat-like eyes but he doesn’t seemed suspicious of him either. “Well?†he asked again, clearly a tone of impatient in his voice “Are there any room for me to rent for a night?†he asked, but the old man didn’t answer it immediately but instead eyeing the ancient up and down before locating the katana sheathed at his left waist. “Adventurer, huh?†he replied, “Sure why not, 10 gold per night†Serapis immediately took out the leather pouch, took out the 10 gold coins and gives it to the innkeeper. As soon as the wrinkled old man receives the gold he gave a bronze key, the key to Serapis’s room it seems. “Your room’s number would be 15, it’s upstairs†the innkeeper said. He turns and climbs the wooden stairs leading to the second floor, finally he would have the chance to rest, and only after that shall he find something to fill his empty stomach…. You will have your revenge...... You will be resurrected...... You will lead them again...... You must return.... (unknown voice)  |
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Re: Post-A-Story
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Seth groaned groggily as he came to. He felt as though somebody had dealt him a hefty blow to the head. It was not too far from the truth. His memories had been wiped, causing him to suffer a concussion. He slowly opened his piercingly blue eyes, and winced as light flooded them. He could hear voices around him, and could sometimes see people peering down at him. They were scrawny little children, who were very curious about him. The youngest one tugged at his black cat ears and tail to see if they were real. Seth wanted to wince, but his limbs still felt too heavy to move. The oldest one was a girl who took some of the water from her bucket and splashed it on his face. She had thoroughly soaked his slightly longish thick black hair when her father arrived. He eyed Seth’s strange clothes(ripped jeans and a fraying t-shirt) and the blue tips of his hair. After deeming him safe, the man pulled Seth over his shoulder and began to walk. His children skipped around him excitedly. When Seth awoke again, he sat up in the bed of an unfamiliar room. Of course everything seemed unfamiliar at this point. At least he could move again. In fact, he seemed to have made a full recovery. Seth slowly walked to the door and opened it. He half expected it to be locked, and fell out into the hallway as the door swung open. A passing couple giggled annoyingly, put he pushed them aside violently. He walked down two flights of wooden stairs and up to an employee of the inn. “Look!†he said, “The cat-boy’s awake!†Seth immediately grabbed the man by the front of his shirt and asked, “what happened to me?†The man shrugged innocently and slipped a knife into Seth’s pocket, “You were found with this knife. The carving on the handle is special. It means, you came from a different world. This world brought you here for a special reason. You have a great destiny.†“You’re joking.†stated Seth while releasing his captive, then with another moments thought added “What else do you know?†“Uhh… nothing else,†the man said truthfully “You’ve got weird clothes though.†“Thanks,†said Seth sarcastically He let the man hurry away. He had already attracted the stares of other travelers. Seth slunk into the shadows of the bar’s corner and sat for a while. The cat-boy wanted nothing else other than peace and quiet for just a moment, and it seemed the quietest place the bar could offer. He found a few coins in his left pocket. He might use them later. He wasn’t quite hungry yet. Seth put his head in his hands to think. He had no idea who he was, or anything else. If anything, he was completely helpless in this strange world. Before he knew it, Seth had slipped into sleep. |
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Re: Post-A-Story
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The high seas was never something the sword-wielder felt comfortable with. Tales of raging storms, restless spirits and crazed sea monsters kept Asuka well below deck throughout the trip across the ocean to Raiaera. The only reason she had need of this peril was because of a curious tip-off from a merchant at the Radasanthia seaport. The overly obese spice trader remarked about how she was supposed to be overseas in Anebrilith to meet with some cat-human creature these people so affectionately called "Furries." The swordsmaiden, however, had never seen one in all her life and she was surprised that the man had seen her before. That's it! It must be that Yamihara girl! I have to follow her. Of course, she had to endure the bowel-churning ride first. After tossing and turning restlessly in the crew quarters of the ferry, the ship finally docked and no sooner had the plank touched the piers Asuka bound straight out of the wooden beast's belly and out into the fresh salty air. That is, after she had given herself a nice round of purging her stomach. Guh... Remind me never to take the ferry again. As soon as the maiden found her bearing she realized how early it was in the morning. The sun was just barely peeking over the tall waterfront buildings near the seaport, each one urging the weary traveller to rest within its bosom. But Asuka would take no rest for now. Now... where could that snob be... However, her stomach decided on an alternative route for the redhead fighter instead. The audible growl alerted her that she had just lost all her meal she had wolfed down before embarking on her journey. Perhaps it's time I get something to eat... Looking left and right, Asuka sized up each establishment lining the waterfront section of the city. Hmm, this one looks good enough, she thought as her feet stepped through the swinging doors of "The Merry Eel" and entered into the relatively peaceful tavern. With each step taken the weathered oak floorboards squeaked lazily under the soles of her boots. The light-flooded chamber glowed warm in the sun, giving the establishment a homely feel. There were only a few drunken patrons lying about half-empty tables, most probably left there on purpose for fear of distrubing the slumbering nitwits hand have them turn on you in a moment's notice. Glaring distastefully at the sloppy display, she walked up to the bar and sat upon one of the raised stools. "So, what'll it be for today, miss?" The bartender greeted her with a smile, only to receive a cold stare back in return. "Um, well, perhaps something warm for breakfast?" "Yeah, whatever. Get me some mushroom soup." The weaponsmith's daughter mumbled unhappily. She wasn't here for a dine-out, that's for sure. She wasn't in an entirely happy mood considering she has yet to obtain any lead as to where this "ex-noble" could be. For all she knew that girl might have gone somewhere else already. "Geez, this is gonna be a long day for me..." __________________ Who is this that is me? Am I my own image, my own self? Am I, my own being? Or am I bound to another, for better or worse yet to come... |
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Re: Post-A-Story
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Spectacular Crusader! Absolutely wonderful. Ill be expecting more of the story now. Might as well throw out another story I wrote A while back. Noir baby, love it or hate it. Fools City It was a dark night. Coal dark. The kind of night you could be swallowed in and I was on the job. I had been tailing this dame for half an hour. I was hoping she'd give me a lead. I was hoping she'd stop driving soon. I was near out of gas and if I stopped now it would be another month before I caught up with her again. It was too cold and I was too old to go another month. I caught a break about a mile down one of the sleaziest drives in all of the old city. What such a pretty girl was doing in a place like this, well, thats what I was going to find out. She pulled up into a run-down old motel by the name of "The Sleep Easy". A flickering green neon sign that was about as inviting as road-kill boasted vacancies. My mark pulled in front of room 108. Now I had been trailing her for a few months now and this is the first I had seen or heard of this motel. So the room wasn't hers. But then who's was it? I sat in the parking lot drinking day old coffee and listening to some really good jazz. You can't beat cold coffee and good jazz, the aroma and background more than the taste kept me awake. I was out there for close to an hour wondering if this was a dead end before what looked like a man walked out of the room. He was walking hunched over and had a green trench coat on. His only really defining feature was a ridiculous bowler hat. I considered following after him but decided against it. This was probably one of those one night stands all the kids were doing these days. I waited until he had disappeared down the road before leaving my car and heading towards the room. One night stand or not you can never be too careful. The still night air was a dreary mist against my skin. It was far too silent. My footsteps rang out like cannon shots on the broken pavement. I knocked on her door. No answer. I knocked again. My only return was quiet. I got that funny feeling in my gut that something wasn't right. I kicked down the door. The room was immaculate. It even smelled good, like some fancy cologne. The only thing amiss was the sound of rushing water in the bathroom. As I walked towards the back of the room I tried real hard to convince myself that maybe she had left the water running. Maybe she was about to take a shower and I had scared her to death. Yeah, right. I just gave the room a new entrance and she's still about to take a shower. As I opened the bathroom door and saw crimson painting all over the floor I let out a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding. She was definitely dead. There was enough blood on the floor to choke Dracula. I thought I might have time for a quick check around and then be on my way. Cops never took too kindly to the private sectors. At first glance it looked like she had fallen and hit her head. At first glance a Black Widow spider looked like any other. And like the red hourglass on the widow that denoted her danger there were signs shouting of foul play all over the room. For the first thing no one has the look of terror the young woman's face was now displaying when they fall and hit their head. For another thing she had just visible hand prints on her neck. This had been a murder and the guy in the bowler was responsible. The only thing I had to go on was my quick glance at a trench coat and the smell of cologne. Just before I left the scene I noticed that the poor wretch was clutching something in her right hand. The object which she had held onto for dear life was a key, a skeleton key to be specific. It was engraved with the words "Part App 46". Okay, she left me something. Great, now all I had to do was find out what this key had to do with anything. Might as well ask why I drink my coffee cold. I didn't know any more then anyone else. But at least I had a place to start. A new lead. I needed to get the key checked out and I knew just the guy for it. John Steinbell lived above his one room workshop in Lower District Two. The guy was a genius but you wouldn't know to look at him. You wouldn't know it to talk to him either for that matter. He ran a small parts workshop out of his first floor. He was pretty good at tinkering with parts, but his real genius was finding things out. John had been my informant for fifteen years and he had yet to be wrong. I walked in at two-thirty in the morning. The store was closed but that didn't matter to me. You don't put absolute trust in someone for fifteen years without getting a key in the bargain. Just to satiate my curiosity I tired the skeleton key in his door. No go. That was fine with me. I'd just as rather not have John mixed up in this. I walked straight through the back of the store and upstairs to his private apartment. As I had expected he was still awake playing with one of his little gadgets. "Thomas Trenton." He calls me, "I haven't seen you in a good six months. I had almost been hopeful that you wouldn't come around again." I look at him seriously for a few seconds before we both burst in to laughter. It was the same joke every time and we laughed every time. I go to his fridge and pull out some coffee. John knew to always keep cold coffee around on the off chance I would show up. John waits patiently for me to speak first. He has all the time in the world and he knows I'm deep in thought. "John, I need you to find out what doors this key unlocks." I hand the skeleton key over to him. "I think the answer to my latest problem may be behind the door it opens," John takes the key and walks over to his desk. He pulls out an ancient looking book and rummages through the pages. "This is no rare key Tom. It may take me a few days to find the location." I didn't expect him to find it right away but there was some small hope. "Ok John, you know how to get ahold me unless you've gone senile in your old age." We share another laugh and I'm on my way.I have a few things to do while I wait for John to get back to me with information on the key. I thought i might want to pick up a new hat. "Do you need help finding anything?" Asked the manager of "Le Hat Emporium" I nodded my head slightly. I was looking around the store for a certain kind of hat. This was a fancy place. Probably the fanciest I had been in all day. "Yes mam, I was wondering if you carry green bowler hats?". I though she might look at me the same way all the other store managers had looked at me that day. A look of utter confusion followed by shrill annoying laughter. Apparently green bowler hats are close to impossible to find. But instead she just looked at the ceiling in thought for a few seconds and replied cheerily "I think we might have some in the back! Ill go back and look for you." I thanked her and she was off. I took the opportunity to run behind the counter and shuffle through her customer list. I didn't recognize anyone but that was fine. I just grabbed the whole stack of cards and stuffed them down an inner coat pocket. I was just finished readjusting myself when she came back. "Lucky you, I found the last one. We don't get these very often. We really only keep them because of a customer who comes in once a month to buy them. He's an odd fellow. Very quiet. But he's polite and he buys our products. Anyways did you want-. Sir, sir!" I was on my way out before she even finished speaking. I had my lead. This was the my guy. Now I just needed John to get back with the specs on the key and I might be able to fit a few more pieces of the puzzle together. |
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Re: Post-A-Story
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by TheSubsect
on 2005-11-29 04:36:51
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| Is there a summary of these story? So long *sigh* |
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Re: Post-A-Story
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Ha ha no summary Zephyr. I did write about four more pages on it though. Ill type them up eventually... |
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Re: Post-A-Story
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| well at least i can say that you guys obviusly have a great understanding of writen stories(i ahve ideas in my head but i cannot wrie well,or they just come up stupid.)Your grammer is perfect and your stories have a neo EuroAmerican Style(just made that name up, it means a modern style). Very good. |
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Re: Post-A-Story
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Why thank you. And you say you cant write well. That made up descriptory word is wonderful! |
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Re: Post-A-Story
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Ok i'm gonna just make a short little scene here from something i'll make as i go along. I know it'll stink but it'll give yall somthing to look at. I put in music on the stage directions. You can download them or just play them on your media player. They are from this site. Setting: Small courtyard outside some old British Castle that is now Old Upper Lip High. About 100 of the 1200 school kids are sitting out side in the courtyard, most of them gothic. [enter bobby brown]-music in background is Justice and Freedom (gundam seed) Bobby Brown- God, school is so boring-I don't even have time to paint my nails black! Random Girl-Who are you talking to? Narrator- Noticing Ty, his ony friend, left him to go to the bathroom before Bobby even said "school" he realized he must have looked quite the fool standing there talking to the water. RandomGirl-Hello stop standing there! Bobby Brown-Uh,right-stupid lady-there you go. RandomGirl-I swear. Justice and freedom music stops BobbyBrown(thinking)-Man nobody likes me except Ty. Ty-hey buddy i can tell what your thinking,dont worry that'll change(gets a Malicious look on his face).....today BobbyBrown-Oh yeah! i almost forgot we have a emergcy bombing drill in a few minutes (bringgg!!!!!!) BobbyBrown-Or now. Everybody exits with there book bag except Ty. That's all I have made up. |
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Re: Post-A-Story
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by
on 2005-12-06 23:17:01 (edited 2005-12-06 23:29:32)
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Guys i'm upset, I typed one of my stories and when I was about to post it, it said I had to login first and my whole story got erased,Man, I worked so hard on it too,my fault for typing too slow. When I get the chance I'm gonna type it again so expect a story to come from me soon. I'm gonna post it even if I have to keep retyping it. Sorry for the interuption.
"Someday....Somewhere..."
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Re: Post-A-Story
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by
 Red Queens
on 2005-12-07 00:29:45 |
I posted a story on Postfiction called bloody dreams...  |
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Re: Post-A-Story
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| i know what you mean. I typed a two page report,forgot to save it, closed out of the program and then..........well you can guess. |
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Re: Post-A-Story
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A first part of a first chapter of a story I'm working on. The clock went off for the first time in nearly two months of disuse, its familiar shrieks annoying the demon girl burrowed under her covers, although it was still insufficient enough to fully rouse her from her very much earned, and very much important sleep. Her pointy, furry long ears, silver as her impractically long hair, twitched uncontrollably from the shrillness. Reluctant to relinquish the drowsy warmth of her bed, she apparently preferred the alternate world of dreams to reality. A minute later, the damn thing still wouldn’t be quiet. As always on the first day of school, when her system was still in summer-vacation mode, Shiro saw fit to shut it up for once and for all-that was, until she patched it back up with flimsy pieces of tape. With an agitated growl, a slender arm removed itself out of the protective mound of blankets and slammed brutally down upon the unsuspecting clock with the practiced ease of one accustomed to doing so many times, shattering it into shards of plastic. Flinging her sheets off in one harsh motion, Shiro rolled to one side, and her long dark lashes fluttered open; she cast the remains of the evil noisy pest of a digital timepiece a careless look, where it was on the cold tiles next to a picture frame turned down onto the floor. Seeing the longer arm frozen at precisely seven half, she retreated to her previous comatose state with absolutely no regrets. Shiro Zehr was not one for regrets, or any such sentimentality like that. Besides, it was much, much too early in the morning for that. Yes, much, much too early, as from what she could glimpse of her half-shaded window through the gauzy curtains, the sun was not yet high in the crimson sky. She needed a tad more sleep; Necessity was necessity, and she couldn’t be spared the time that she could use to sleep, to harbor such miserable thoughts. They would simply make her life even more ghastly than it already was, and would also drive her to insanity…not that she wasn’t already considered delusional enough by many. Among them was her strict, unbearably, depressingly sad excuse for a tribe, those pitifully stuck up annoyances. It wouldn’t hurt to miss first period. Or even second, while she was at it. So much for making a good first impression for a new school year.  |
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Re: Post-A-Story
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Well I figure that since the post-a-poem thread has been completely revived maybe we can reveive this trhead. How bout it you writers of Gendou? Care to join me on a magical quest of written delicious goodness? As a starting point for the revival I shall post my updated version of the Noir Ive been working on FOREVER... Fools city. Enjoy. Fools City A short story It was a dark night. Coal dark. The kind of night you could be swallowed in and I was on the job. I had been tailing this dame for half an hour. I was hoping she'd give me a lead. I was hoping she'd stop driving soon. I was near out of gas and if I stopped now it would be another month before I caught up with her again. It was too cold and I was too old to go another month. I caught a break about a mile down one of the sleaziest drives in all of the old city. What such a pretty girl was doing in a place like this, well, thats what I was going to find out. She pulled up into a run-down old motel by the name of "The Sleep Easy". A flickering green neon sign that was about as inviting as road-kill boasted vacancies. My mark pulled in front of room 108. Now I had been trailing her for a few months now and this is the first I had seen or heard of this motel. So the room wasn't hers. But then who's was it? I sat in the parking lot drinking day old coffee and listening to some really good jazz. You can't beat cold coffee and good jazz, the aroma and background more than the taste kept me awake. I was out there for close to an hour wondering if this was a dead end before what looked like a man walked out of the room. He was walking hunched over and had a green trench coat on. His only really defining feature was a ridiculous bowler hat. I considered following after him but decided against it. This was probably one of those one night stands all the kids were doing these days. I waited until he had disappeared down the road before leaving my car and heading towards the room. One night stand or not you can never be too careful. The still night air was a dreary mist against my skin. It was far too silent. My footsteps rang out like cannon shots on the broken pavement. I knocked on her door. No answer. I knocked again. My only return was quiet. I got that funny feeling in my gut that something wasn't right. I kicked down the door. The room was immaculate. It even smelled good, like some fancy cologne. The only thing amiss was the sound of rushing water in the bathroom. As I walked towards the back of the room I tried real hard to convince myself that maybe she had left the water running. Maybe she was about to take a shower and I had scared her to death. Yeah, right. I just gave the room a new entrance and she's still about to take a shower. As I opened the bathroom door and saw crimson painting all over the floor I let out a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding. She was definitely dead. There was enough blood on the floor to choke Dracula. I thought I might have time for a quick check around and then be on my way. Cops never took too kindly to the private sectors. At first glance it looked like she had fallen and hit her head. At first glance a Black Widow spider looked like any other. And like the red hourglass on the widow that denoted her danger there were signs shouting of foul play all over the room. For the first thing no one has the look of terror the young woman's face was now displaying when they fall and hit their head. For another thing she had just visible hand prints on her neck. This had been a murder and the guy in the bowler was responsible. The only thing I had to go on was my quick glance at a trench coat and the smell of cologne. Just before I left the scene I noticed that the poor wretch was clutching something in her right hand. The object which she had held onto for dear life was a key, a skeleton key to be specific. It was engraved with the words "Part App 46". Okay, she left me something. Great, now all I had to do was find out what this key had to do with anything. Might as well ask why I drink my coffee cold. I didn't know any more then anyone else. But at least I had a place to start. A new lead. I needed to get the key checked out and I knew just the guy for it. John Steinbell lived above his one room workshop in Lower District Two. The guy was a genius but you wouldn't know to look at him. You wouldn't know it to talk to him either for that matter. He ran a small parts workshop out of his first floor. He was pretty good at tinkering with parts, but his real genius was finding things out. John had been my informant for fifteen years and he had yet to be wrong. I walked in at two-thirty in the morning. The store was closed but that didn't matter to me. You don't put absolute trust in someone for fifteen years without getting a key in the bargain. Just to satiate my curiosity I tired the skeleton key in his door. No go. That was fine with me. I'd just as rather not have John mixed up in this. I walked straight through the back of the store and upstairs to his private apartment. As I had expected he was still awake playing with one of his little gadgets. "Thomas Trenton." He calls me, "I haven't seen you in a good six months. I had almost been hopeful that you wouldn't come around again." I look at him seriously for a few seconds before we both burst in to laughter. It was the same joke every time and we laughed every time. I go to his fridge and pull out some coffee. John knew to always keep cold coffee around on the off chance I would show up. John waits patiently for me to speak first. He has all the time in the world and he knows I'm deep in thought. "John, I need you to find out what doors this key unlocks." I hand the skeleton key over to him. "I think the answer to my latest problem may be behind the door it opens," John takes the key and walks over to his desk. He pulls out an ancient looking book and rummages through the pages. "This is no rare key Tom. It may take me a few days to find the location." I didn't expect him to find it right away but there was some small hope. "Ok John, you know how to get ahold me unless you've gone senile in your old age." We share another laugh and I'm on my way.I have a few things to do while I wait for John to get back to me with information on the key. I thought i might want to pick up a new hat. "Do you need help finding anything?" Asked the manager of "Le Hat Emporium" I nodded my head slightly. I was looking around the store for a certain kind of hat. This was a fancy place. Probably the fanciest I had been in all day. "Yes mam, I was wondering if you carry green bowler hats?". I though she might look at me the same way all the other store managers had looked at me that day. A look of utter confusion followed by shrill annoying laughter. Apparently green bowler hats are close to impossible to find. But instead she just looked at the ceiling in thought for a few seconds and replied cheerily "I think we might have some in the back! Ill go back and look for you." I thanked her and she was off. I took the opportunity to run behind the counter and shuffle through her customer list. I didn't recognize anyone but that was fine. I just grabbed the whole stack of cards and stuffed them down an inner coat pocket. I was just finished readjusting myself when she came back. "Lucky you, I found the last one. We don't get these very often. We really only keep them because of a customer who comes in once a month to buy them. He's an odd fellow. Very quiet. But he's polite and he buys our products. Anyways did you want-. Sir, sir!" I was on my way out before she even finished speaking. I had my lead. This was the my guy. Now I just needed John to get back with the specs on the key and I might be able to fit a few more pieces of the puzzle together. I took the long way home. I needed some time to think and I almost always did my best thinking in the car. The shower might work for some people but I always reserved that for signing. I crack the window down a couple of inches. The cool, misty night air serves to wake me up and clear my mind. A good thing I opened the window too. If not for that I may not have noticed the car driving about a quarter mile behind me. It follows me for a mile or so. "Could just be coincidence..." I think to myself. But its not. I know the same way I knew the girl would be dead before I even got to the bathroom door back in the apartment. I take a few random turns and sure enough my shadow is still behind me. I take one more slow turn and punch the gas. This is no granny car. When I put my sneaker to the floor of my navy blue 69' Stang it happily obliges my need for speed. Im screaming down the deserted suburban streets taking almost too wide turns and any shortcut I can remember. My mysterious pursuer keeps steady behind me as if this was not his first chase. Probably it wasn't. A hired assassin then, but why? I slow suddenly and pull into a parking garage. The garage is old and out of use. A demolition sign hangs dusted over in the entranceway. No electricity but thats fine. I need it dark and quiet. I wait patiently and sure enough a black Mercedes pulls in. Definitely an assassin then. No regular street thug could afford the price tag attached to those wheels. He parks next to my recently vacated car and silently gets out of his. Incredibly stealthy and careful. If I wasn't as well trained I probably wouldn't stand a chance. I cant see the glint of his gun but I know its there. A pro like this would have a blacked out deal with a silencer on it for sure. He takes a step. I inhale. My heart is flying a million beats a minute. Another step, coming towards me. Its been a while since I've had to take someone down. Even longer since it was someone who knew what he was doing. Another step. He looks to be young and in shape, Im getting to old for this. I exhale. Just a little closer now. When I lunge out at him and throw a quick right to his temple he almost plants his gun in my belly before it goes off. Sloppy. Both of us. I should've waited until he was closer. He shouldn't have come in. The bullet tears a hole through my jacket and nicks my side. I hope it only nicked my side. The made man is down and dazed on the ground in front of me. I spend the rest of the night asking him a few questions. After dropping him off at the hospital in the morning and phoning the police, I head back for Jon's. I knew he said a few weeks but I trusted he would have something to give me. I didn't care what as long as it was something I could look in to, I couldn't bear to be idle after last night. I was positive I had stumbled on to something much larger than just a simple murder. If they were willing to silence me just for asking around about some nobody girl than maybe I was coming a little too close to something big. When I got to Jon's I knew right away that something wasn't right. The air had a slightly hazy look and I could smell smoke. That and the fact that his shop door lay in a few hundred pieces told me that something was amiss. Foolishly I run straight up to his rooms. His door is blocked from the inside and the smoky smell is alot stronger. To the displeasure of my side I throw my weight into the door several times. When I finally break in the place is an inferno. Jon is lying unconscious next to his work. I fireman's carry him downstairs and outside and check his pulse. Still there. Barely. I take another trip to the hospital. its two weeks before Jon has recovered enough to take visitors. "Tom, drop this one," Jon chokes out to me through his slowly healing wind pipes, "this ones too big for you. If you keep snooping your going to end up on the bottom of the lake." I take a few moments to consider this,"Whoever tried to kill me and crisp you killed her and I'm not going to rest until I find out who did it. Did you find anything useful out or not?" I reply a little too sharply but its too late to take it back. Tom just sighs and gives me some bad news. About as bad as news can get. The key is one commonly used in the Ninth District. Mafia District. Why of all the places in this town did it have to be the Ninth? Nobody went in to Mob territory. Not if they wanted to keep their insides in and their outsides attached. They were nothing like the organized crime families in my favorite movies. At least in the Godfather they were intelligent and somewhat merciful. Our cities mob was the cruelest, coldest, and most needlessly violent band of no good dirty thugs to ever grace this good earth of ours. They would brainwash their own sons to kill their mothers if they thought some money could be made out of it. And I had to go there. I didn't have a choice. I wanted to see this one through and I wouldn't be able to do it from the outside. I am more than a little ashamed to say that I have procrastinated for days now. I lay awake at night stinking of sweat and fear over the prospect. Any sane man would be terrified. Outsiders were killed almost on sight in the Ninth. I would have to blend in. That means my car was out of the equation. Nothing but black suits, black cars, black guns, and black hearts in the Ninth. At least I owned a black suit. It had been several years since I'd carried a gun on me. A while back my pistol had a misfire and injured an innocent, but If I wanted to survive I would have to look, act, talk, walk, and even smell like a mobster. I took a final drive in the Stang down to Bob's gun emporium to pick up some new hardware. Bob used to be a personal friend who Id helped out of more than one considerable jam. I was positive Bob would be more than happy to hook me up with a certain rare item he kept locked away in his desk... Bob's Emporium was really nothing more than a seemingly run down shop on the bottom floor of an apartment building. Little did the common Joe passerby know that the run down look was just a cover for the "shadier" dealings Bob took part in. Weapon running, gun smuggling, small arms supply, call it what you want but he sold big guns to high bidders. Bob was another trusted informant and close friend. I walk into his shop at one in the morning and Bob is sleeping at the counter in front of a sizable gun rack. A small black and white tv buzzes with static and a coo-coo clock ticks away the hours in the corner. "Your liable to get yourself robbed again Bob." I say in a gruff voice. Bob wakes with a start and instantly reaches under the counter. "I wouldnt do that Bob..." I point the barrel of my gun in his face. He slowly looks up the barrel into my face. "Jesus Christ on a jumped up chariot Tom, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Those damn kids have been running loose in the area again and I thought one of 'em had finally grown some testis and come lookin fer trouble. What brings you around this hell hole. Haven't seen ya in problly, two years now. Get into some trouble an needs 'ole Bob to dig you out?" With the last line Bob gave out a much heartier chuckle than was really warranted. I give him a look serious enough to cut him off in mid laugh. "I need the R-12." Is all I tell him. With those four words Bobs face turns very pale. He turns away and wrings his hands together clearly thrown off guard. "I dont know what yer talkin 'bout Tom. I think Ima go up 't bed now." He starts to walk away and Tom grabs him by the shirt sleeve. "Bob. I wouldn't want to have to call my friends up in District to come down here and look into a few violations. Who knows where that would lead... I really need that gun Bob. Im going into the Ninth." If Bob was pale before he was a ghost now. "The Ninth! Are ya outta yer mind. Youll be dead before you go ten steps. Christ in a handbasket Tom." I look at him for a few more tense seconds." Well if yer really going to do it. Come with me." He leads me back through a much enforced locked door in the back of the shop. His private office is immaculate and and much nicer than you would guess from looking at his store. he walks straight over to a giant oak desk and starts fumbling with a key ring he pulled from his pocket. After a couple of tries he finds the correct key and opens a low and almost hidden drawer and pulls out a black case. Its what is inside that case that Jon came for. The R-12 was a gun not yet even released to the US army. It was made of a light titanium alloy that was harder than diamonds and wouldnt set off any metal detectors. It was perfectly balanced, laser sighted, it came silenced, and it fired a custom bullet that could rip through reinforced concrete. It was an evil device but It would be needed when I infiltrated the Ninth. "Thanks Bob. Ill wire the money to the usual account." Bob shook his head. "No Tom. This ones on me. God willin you'll pull off whatever it is your tryin to do and I'll be seein you again. Take care friend." I clasped his hand and utter a brief goodbye and im on my way. Chapter 2 Samuel Valentine. I know, a cheesy, cliche name for the mayor of a corrupt city right? Maybe, but it was the name I was born with and I wouldn't change it for all the sake in Korea. Or was it tea in China? I guess thats not really the matter of the moment anyhow. The matter was Thomas Trenton. One of those goodie goodie, spit-shine, blue-collar, right and righteous cops. I hated any cop I couldn't pay to have in my back pocket. Thomas would never be one of those cops, though not for lack of trying on my end. He was born and raised to follow the law to the very end. The matter was that Thomas was looking into things best left unlooked into. I had my fingers into more cookie jars then a fat kid on a sugar binge and thats just how I liked it. If Tommy boy followed the trail just right he might find some things out that would close the lid on the cookie jars for good. He needed to be silenced, and quickly. The only problem was that after the torching of his friends flat he all but disappeared from the radar. I had already sent one unsuccessful assassin after him and it was a mistake I couldn't afford to make twice. I needed the best so I called in the best. A man known only as Sion was my best hope for shutting down my little problem. A legend by the age of twenty, Sion was well versed in the art of killing. It had been mere chance that I had come to employ him. By chance I mean to say that he contacted me, gave me an extortionate price, and I helplessly accepted. Noone refused to employ Sion. Refusing him meant signing your own death warrant and no amount of bodyguards or fancy equipment were going to save you from your mistake. |