Again, sleep is a necessity tonight so I have to cut my writing short. I decided to quick write something completely new and put my longer story on the back burner as I work out ideas.
May 30th, 2008
The job had gone perfectly. The money was in the bag and all there was to do now was clean up. Maxwell stood beside his partner Lester. They had pulled off perhaps the greatest bank heist in the past 100 years. It really all was quite simple. No frills, no tricks. Walk in, walk out. That was what made it so easy. To many bank robbers these days are trying with to much gadgetry and not enough heart. Maxwell had a friend who worked at the bank and told them when an investor was due to drop off a large sum of money. It was Maxwell and Lester who took the deposit though, not the bank.
Now all that’s left is the clean up.
“I’m glad I didn’t have to shoot anyone, I’ve never even seen a dead person,” said Lester; standing beside Maxwell with a large bag of money in his hands.
“Look in a mirror,” Maxwell said as he shot Lester in the side of the head with the pistol he kept in his shoulder strap.
The bag of money fell to the ground along with Lester’s body. The bag was taken by Maxwell while the body stayed.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Friday, May 30, 2008
May 29th, 2008
Sleep is a necessity tonight, so small progress was made.
May 29th, 2008
(Continuation from May 28th, 2008)
It must also be noted that these two men were both from this very town. It is a bit of a cosmic coincidence that the two most creative and possibly successful people born in this town should end up living right next door to each other.
So there it was, two houses, alone in a field. One occupied by an artist, and the other a musician. It would seem like this would be a perfect situation; two artists of different fields living side by side, each individually working on their own creations. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
Robert Barkosk was a man set in his ways. At his age, change was seldom and far between. Moving to this house was the most drastic thing he had done for several years, and it was merely a reaction to the passing of his wife. Every morning he would wake up at roughly 8 A.M (Sleeping in was a luxury he enjoyed nowadays), and would start his day with coffee and three eggs hard boiled. He would then smoke one single hand rolled cigarette followed by a brisk walk, rain or shine. His day would be spent with his music, the only true enjoyment he found anymore.
May 29th, 2008
(Continuation from May 28th, 2008)
It must also be noted that these two men were both from this very town. It is a bit of a cosmic coincidence that the two most creative and possibly successful people born in this town should end up living right next door to each other.
So there it was, two houses, alone in a field. One occupied by an artist, and the other a musician. It would seem like this would be a perfect situation; two artists of different fields living side by side, each individually working on their own creations. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
Robert Barkosk was a man set in his ways. At his age, change was seldom and far between. Moving to this house was the most drastic thing he had done for several years, and it was merely a reaction to the passing of his wife. Every morning he would wake up at roughly 8 A.M (Sleeping in was a luxury he enjoyed nowadays), and would start his day with coffee and three eggs hard boiled. He would then smoke one single hand rolled cigarette followed by a brisk walk, rain or shine. His day would be spent with his music, the only true enjoyment he found anymore.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
May 28th, 2008
The following is the first part of a story I am writing. It was started from scratch tonight and due to time I am going to have to split it up. Though it is not a finished story I feel it still fits in the boundaries of the rules I have set for myself as the overall goal of this is just to keep me writing. It has some structure errors but I am not editing these as I go.
May 28th, 2008
There is a small village outside of a small town in the outskirts of the capitol city to a state that is often forgotten. This is a town of roughly four hundred people comprised mostly of later middle-aged people and their generation of kids. This town has a doctor’s office that acts as their hospital, a federal post office, a school with four teachers, and a life expectancy of 64.2 for men and 66.3 for women. It must also be noted that this is not a story of colonial times or the dustbowl, but a story that happened just barely a year ago. In this town there is a large open field that stretches just beyond the grocery store all the way to the mayor’s house. In this field sits two houses. The first house being a split-level with pale yellow siding and a small white front porch with a single rocking chair. Directly beside this house sits a ranch style home with brick walls and also a front porch, this one being a dark stained wood color. A paved road with a cul-de-sac about fifty feet from the houses on one side stretches all the way back to the town connecting with the major thorough way, Megre Road, that connects the town with itself. This single paved road is the only way to get to these two houses.
The circumstances of these two houses being alone together in a large field are quite extraordinary in themselves. At least, they are to the people in the town that it happened in, as you could hardly go a day without hearing some one mention it, and it is still common to hear it brought up in every day conversation still today. These two houses were the first step in a large contracting company’s attempt at spreading and building a large subdivision right in the middle of the town. This itself was a subject of much controversy as a large section of the town thought this expanding was a great idea while another faction thought that it would ruin the peace that they had, the safety and security. They felt that too many people in their small town would only ruin it. In the end the expansion side won, most likely due to the fact that a certain small group were set to too make a lot of money off of this subdivision. Most notably, the mayor, David Alberta, a portly man who is developing a bald spot on the top of his head, would be the benefactor and also the center of this controversy.
The contracts went through and development began. First, a road was built, followed by two houses built to industry standards in just a few weeks. These were to be show houses to entice the population to purchase a house before they were even built. Billboards were placed all along the highway and one was placed right in the middle of the town.
It was about two weeks before construction on more houses for the neighborhood was to begin, some even already purchased (the billboards had worked) when the mayor was caught and charged with accepting bribes from the contracting company. David Alberta was caught attempting to cash a personal check of a large amount at his bank. When he tried to cash it, an astute young teller at the bank noticed it was strange for a mayor to receive such a large personal check and reported it to her manager. Her manager reported it to her boss, who reported it to his boss, who then reported to his boss, all the way until it was investigated.
David was charged with bribery and sentenced to two years in a federal prison two states to the north. With this sentencing the development stopped, the contractors pulled out, and the two houses were sold at bargain prices to the first bidders.
And that is where the real story begins. The first house, the split-level, was bought by an aging man of 65 with the money he had recently collected from the passing of his wife. His name was Robert Barkosk and he at the prime of his life had been an extremely successful composer. His main instrument being the cello but he was also proficient in piano and the viola. Over the past 15 years Robert has felt that he has lost his talent, and with the passing of his wife, jumped at the opportunity to purchase such a nice house for so cheap with only one neighbor. He had hoped to spend some nice time by himself working on his music.
A man named Benjamin Outley purchased the other house, the ranch. He was a sculptor in the classical sense that loved to work with stone. He would spend months at a time working on a single piece, which upon finishing would be purchased and whisked away to someone in some city somewhere in the world. While Benjamin was successful he was nowhere near the level he had hoped to attain in his lifetime. He bought the house in the middle of the field in hopes he would be inspired and perhaps complete his master work; vaulting him into stardom in the art world.
May 28th, 2008
There is a small village outside of a small town in the outskirts of the capitol city to a state that is often forgotten. This is a town of roughly four hundred people comprised mostly of later middle-aged people and their generation of kids. This town has a doctor’s office that acts as their hospital, a federal post office, a school with four teachers, and a life expectancy of 64.2 for men and 66.3 for women. It must also be noted that this is not a story of colonial times or the dustbowl, but a story that happened just barely a year ago. In this town there is a large open field that stretches just beyond the grocery store all the way to the mayor’s house. In this field sits two houses. The first house being a split-level with pale yellow siding and a small white front porch with a single rocking chair. Directly beside this house sits a ranch style home with brick walls and also a front porch, this one being a dark stained wood color. A paved road with a cul-de-sac about fifty feet from the houses on one side stretches all the way back to the town connecting with the major thorough way, Megre Road, that connects the town with itself. This single paved road is the only way to get to these two houses.
The circumstances of these two houses being alone together in a large field are quite extraordinary in themselves. At least, they are to the people in the town that it happened in, as you could hardly go a day without hearing some one mention it, and it is still common to hear it brought up in every day conversation still today. These two houses were the first step in a large contracting company’s attempt at spreading and building a large subdivision right in the middle of the town. This itself was a subject of much controversy as a large section of the town thought this expanding was a great idea while another faction thought that it would ruin the peace that they had, the safety and security. They felt that too many people in their small town would only ruin it. In the end the expansion side won, most likely due to the fact that a certain small group were set to too make a lot of money off of this subdivision. Most notably, the mayor, David Alberta, a portly man who is developing a bald spot on the top of his head, would be the benefactor and also the center of this controversy.
The contracts went through and development began. First, a road was built, followed by two houses built to industry standards in just a few weeks. These were to be show houses to entice the population to purchase a house before they were even built. Billboards were placed all along the highway and one was placed right in the middle of the town.
It was about two weeks before construction on more houses for the neighborhood was to begin, some even already purchased (the billboards had worked) when the mayor was caught and charged with accepting bribes from the contracting company. David Alberta was caught attempting to cash a personal check of a large amount at his bank. When he tried to cash it, an astute young teller at the bank noticed it was strange for a mayor to receive such a large personal check and reported it to her manager. Her manager reported it to her boss, who reported it to his boss, who then reported to his boss, all the way until it was investigated.
David was charged with bribery and sentenced to two years in a federal prison two states to the north. With this sentencing the development stopped, the contractors pulled out, and the two houses were sold at bargain prices to the first bidders.
And that is where the real story begins. The first house, the split-level, was bought by an aging man of 65 with the money he had recently collected from the passing of his wife. His name was Robert Barkosk and he at the prime of his life had been an extremely successful composer. His main instrument being the cello but he was also proficient in piano and the viola. Over the past 15 years Robert has felt that he has lost his talent, and with the passing of his wife, jumped at the opportunity to purchase such a nice house for so cheap with only one neighbor. He had hoped to spend some nice time by himself working on his music.
A man named Benjamin Outley purchased the other house, the ranch. He was a sculptor in the classical sense that loved to work with stone. He would spend months at a time working on a single piece, which upon finishing would be purchased and whisked away to someone in some city somewhere in the world. While Benjamin was successful he was nowhere near the level he had hoped to attain in his lifetime. He bought the house in the middle of the field in hopes he would be inspired and perhaps complete his master work; vaulting him into stardom in the art world.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
May 27th, 2008
May 27th, 2008
There is an astronaut floating in space. He was flung from the outside of his ship while he was working on the oxygen tanks. A quick burst from the tanks was just enough to shoot him just out of reach. He has drifted far from the safety that is the ship, which is now but a speck in the distance. Fortunately for him his suit has a built in oxygen tank, a new addition that was acquired just before this mission was taken.
They were sent up to study the effects of direct sunlight, not filtered by Earth’s atmosphere, on various chemicals and plants from our planet Earth. But none of this is a concern to the astronaut who is floating in space. What is more of a concern is how long he has, his chance for survival, and naturally, the thought of his family back on Earth. He is also concerned for the two other men on the ship he recently departed. Will they be able to make it back without him? Will they risk their lives to rescue me? Are they even trying?
One small shining light in this event was that the astronaut was truly able to witness the wonderful beauty that is our solar system. Free from the inside of his ship he was now able to feel one with his surroundings. Earth was more beautiful than he could ever imagine. The vibrant blues of the ocean and the bright white of the clouds over top. He imagined he could see his children playing in their pool from so far above. He liked to think that they could look up, and look up, and look up just enough to see him waving to them. So he waved. He waved to Earth, and he waved to his ship, and he turned and waved to the Sun. It was at this point he became content with his life. He had experienced something no man had ever done before. He was alone in this feeling, just as he was alone in space, and this made him feel just fine.
And then, breaking the silence, he heard a faint crackle, a hiss, and then a voice come in through the speakers in his helmet.
“Dr. Pheon, can you hear us?”
“Why yes, yes I can.”
“We have located your position, and the rescue mission has begun.”
“Please, take your time,” the astronaut said, with a smile on his face.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
May 22nd - May 26th
The following is every story I wrote from the dates of May 22nd till May 26th. One of which is a true story of the night it was written while the others were made up on the spot.
May 22nd, 2008
When Jacob awoke to the sound of thunder he didn’t feel quite right. A haze, like the clouds outside his window, dark and advancing, had taken over his current mental state. The smell of liquor overtook his nostrils and the sudden urge to vomit uncontrollably crashed its way into his mind. “I need to get up,” he thought, but that was much harder to do than he had expected. It took a few minutes before Jacob could even make a solid attempt, but a weight was holding him down that he couldn’t quite understand. As he was finally starting to rise a faint whimper surprised him and caused him to fall back. “There is someone else in bed with me,” he realized. In the bed with him was a woman that he didn’t quite recognize, other than a vague familiarity. When he realized he didn’t know the woman, he also realized he didn’t know what bed, or even what room he was in.
This came as a massive shock to Jacob because first of all, he couldn’t remember a thing about the night before, but also because this was not the type of thing he would do. Vague memories from the day before came creeping back: He had gotten out of work early and met some friends after work for drinks. “Had I really drank that much? Would they really have let me stay out all night?”
“Jake what’s wrong?” The woman beside him asked, snapping him back to reality.
No body calls me Jake, he thought.
“Uhm, I think I have to get to work,” he said, not really sure of what day it was, or if he even had to work.
“It’s Friday honey, you never work Fridays.”
She knows my schedule? Honey?
“Oh, uh, right.”
Jake knew he had to get out of there quickly as possible, if only for some time to be alone and figure out what was going on.
“How much did I drink?” he asked.
“Huh? Honey you were in by 9 last night.”
Jacob scanned the room for any clues as to where he was, or who he was with. The room itself had a vague familiarity about it also, but not enough for him to realize what it was. He scanned the bed, the woman next to him, and finally himself. It came as a shock when Jacob realized not only were these not his clothes, but also, this was not his body. Jacob sprang out of bed, ignoring the sickness that was overtaking him, and ran out of the room. He, for reasons unknown to him, knew exactly where the bathroom was. The door was shut and he nearly broke it off the hinges slamming through. One quick look into the mirror nearly dropped Jacob on his back. He knew who he was. He knew this face. He was his father.
May 23rd, 2008
This is a story about a man who was stuck in a sewer. He fell in this sewer because of an unmarked manhole, a common problem in the town he lives in, and a ringing cell phone. This problem has expanded exponentially because of the simple fact that upon landing in the sewer the man broke both of his legs. The impact, about a 20-foot fall, also knocked him unconscious for according to the clock on his watch, roughly 3 hours. The man is even lucky to be alive. Unfortunately, the man is unlucky because in that time that he was out, the good hard working boys in the sewer division noticed the ever common unmarked man hole, and promptly covered it up, rendering any shouts or screams for help useless.
Two days later the man was still in the sewer. His cell phone was gone, along with a lot of his energy that was spent crawling along the sewer floor in search of it. It must have fallen in the water, he thought. The pain in his legs had gone from a screaming blinding pain to a dull ache to now a numbness that was slowly spreading throughout his lower body. He knew if he didn’t act soon this sewer would soon become his grave, with the filth on the floor being his coffin. This was not a fate worthy of a man of his stature.
Three days before his fall had been one of the greatest days of his life. The contracts had finally come through at the office, and because of this, he was receiving the biggest promotion of his life. This meant he could finally afford to build the house that him and his wife had always wanted. Nothing extravagant. No. Just a nice 3-bedroom ranch out in the outskirts of town where they could raise their children when they decided it was time. Yes, everything was coming together finally. But now he was lost in a sea of darkness and the waste of everything in the world above him.
But now was the time for action. He knew that there was a small steel ladder embedded in the wall beneath the hole he fell through. If he could manage to pull himself up the ladder, using only his hands, maybe he could push off the lid and at least shout for help.
Finding the ladder was not as easy as he thought. The fall, and the extreme amount of time spent in one position, had not only disoriented him but also locked his body into one tight muscle cramp. It took nearly 2 hours for the man to locate the bottom rung of the ladder. Another two hours was needed to rest and gain strength for what would be an extremely excruciatingly painful climb. The man was, when fully rested, a decently strong person. But now, here in this sewer, the sheer thought of supporting his entire weight up a 20 foot ladder was almost mind numbingly painful. What other options do I have, he thought. And so the climb began.
The first few rungs were pretty simple. In fact, he was able to pull himself all the way to where he was essentially standing with his feet flat on the ground and his arms crossed leaning on the fifth rung. This was only the beginning. Unable to move his legs he had to pull his whole body up each rung, supporting himself on his arms at each run to regain his strength. With each pull the pain in his legs would return, sending a shockwave of shock throughout his whole body. Coupled with the increasing decay of strength in his arms the man was afraid he would never make it out.
The man was about halfway up the ladder when it happened. Water dripping from the street above had dripped down onto a few rungs of the ladder. When the man pulled himself with all his energy to this rung, his hand slipped off and he fell backwards. When his body smashed into the concrete below he practically bounced into the rushing sewer water alongside the platform he had been lying on. With his broken legs and what appeared to be a broken spine from the fall the man lasted nearly 3 minutes before he took in to much water.
May 24th, 2008
Tim McThompson rode the bus to school everyday. Every morning he would be at his personal bus stop (his mother had argued with the school board that the other stops were too far away) at promptly 7:45, and every day he would be dropped off at exactly 3:14. It was like this every day, and he liked it. Fourth grade was tough, let alone worrying about busses. They were but a simple standard in his every day life. The yellow bus with the rows of windows and the number 15 on the side was a bit of a safe haven for Tim. His front seat was always there, his bus driver, Pat, was always there.
Pat was a simple lady who drove the bus for some spare cash, she had worked all her life as a school teacher, only to now retire and drive the bus in order to still spend some time with the kids.
Unfortunately for Tim, today Pat was sick. She was going to miss her very first day driving the bus, ever.
As soon as the bus pulled up, 5 minutes late, Tim knew something was wrong. Perhaps it was the way the bus was driving much faster than usual, or maybe just the fact that it came to a screeching halt in front of him. When he stepped inside instead of being greeted with Pat’s standard “Good Morning Tim!” he was greeted with what sounded like a grunt mixed with a snort blended with a hint of a snarl.
“Who are you?” questioned poor little Tim.
“Names Jackson, now take your seat.”
“You’re late.”
“Sit down kid.”
“Where’s Pat? I like Pat.”
“Pat’s sick”
“Pat’s never late.”
With this Jackson pulled extra hard on the lever that shuts the door; slamming it behind Tim. Tim stepped cautiously up the rest of the stairs and wouldn’t you know it but his seat was taken. Not by anybody, but by a large duffel bag of which appeared to be owned by Jackson.
“Today is going to be a bad day,” thought Tim, as he took another seat.
May 25th, 2008
Everybody loves a good thunder storm. The sound of the thunder, the rush of seeing a lightning bolt scream across the sky, the soft breeze that fights its way through the rain or the gust of wind that nearly knocks you off your feet, and even the sense of refreshment as you are soaked in the downpour. Everyone loves a good thunderstorm. That is, everyone loves a good thunderstorm when they are in a safe place to take the storm. There are several occasions when a thunderstorm is one of the last things you want, such as in a small raft out at sea, a wedding celebration scheduled at the local park, or in my situation: driving my car late at night on the highway.
I have this condition in my eyes that hinders both my ability to pick up light and my peripherals. In other words, I’m essentially night blind. Now typical night driving is not to bad, I may not be the best, but I can manage. Unfortunately, when it rains it can really cause a problem.
I have had a job that works me Thursday-Sunday all night for roughly 9 months now. In these nine months I have somehow never gotten off while a major storm is happening. They certainly have happened while I’m at work, but it has always blown over by time I left.
Today was different though.
A massive storm cell had blown in from the west, and me, anxious to get home after a very long shift, decided that I could make it. It’s really only 7 miles. Unfortunately, I was completely wrong.
The highway wasn’t that bad at first. I was able to make it about halfway, going slow in the right lane, before everything went down the drain. The rainstorm quickly converted itself into a violent lightning and thunder storm with lightning striking nearly every two seconds. Later on the news I would see a map showing every place in the area that had cloud to ground lightning strikes and confirm my belief that I really was right in the middle of a pure lightning explosion.
Roughly 2 miles from my exit something happened that would force me to pull off the highway and spend 20 minutes overcoming what was pretty much a panic attack. I was still going out about 40 miles in the right lane when naturally, a semi truck pulling a very large trailer decided to fly right beside me. The sheer force of the semi pulled my car over until I was roughly 2 inches from scrapping the left side of my car across the under belly of the trailer. With this I swerved to the right, nearly hitting the right wall, and took the very first exit I could find.
I then proceeded to pretty much drive blindly into a neighborhood, park my car, and call a friend, who graciously was able to pick me up.
My car now sits stranded in some neighborhood, while I sit, not able to calm myself, writing this story.
May 26th, 2008
Today a small Indian boy stared at me through the window I was washing. He was amused by the spray from my cleaner bottle dripping down the window and would try to touch it. The confusion in his eyes when he couldn’t, not understanding that it was on the other side, was easy to see. I drew in a deep breath and let it out on the window in front of him; making a large circle on the window. I then drew two eyes and a smile. He laughed and smiled back at me. His face matching almost directly with the face I had drawn on the window. I heard my boss yell my name so I smiled back at the boy, washed off the smile, and went back to work.
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