I'm starting a new project, because you know, I have nothing else to do. This is ntohing immediate. It's just meant to be fun really. But anyway, I am writing a collection of 28 (it's my favorite number) stories. I am writing and editing all of them this year. Some are already done, many are inspired by my crazy, but loving friends in what seems to be a heartbeat and some are going to be 'extracted' from novel ideas I've written. Lots of good things to come. This is what I have so far:
1. The Underground (needs editing)
2. The Army Jacket (needs editing)
3. They Call Me Jacob (needs finishing and editing)
4. Catch me: Symbolic tragic romance. Involves transitioning in time between youth and adolescence, innocence and corruption
5. With All My Love: girl writes emotional letter to her best friend who was killed in a tragic car accident
6-28: still in collaboration. More to come.
December 14, 2011
I know it needs some work, but...
Okay, so a friend gave me an idea for a short story back in September and just now I sat down to write it. Actually, I typed it up on my iPod while I was in my mom's car, so that's kind of why it might seem like it's full of grammatical errors. Anyhoo, here it is. I've mentioned the story before. It's not done. But this is what I have thus far:
Outside, the rain steadily fell upon the earth, immersing the parched soil with sweet pure water. Each drop fell to the ground with a light tap contributing to the overwhelming roar of the rain. Right on the edge of their property was a forest and in this forest there were two evergreen trees. Two strong firs that had taken root in the soil below them. Underground, their roots were intertwined. Conjoined.
on the property there was also a small cottage carefully assembled with the bricks and mortar bought on credit at the local general store. It was not a small shack nor was it a large palace. It was average and so were the people who occupied it.
A modest sized garden held several thriving vegetable plants and was separated from the nature around it only by a thin strip of rocks that had been found by the river one day whilst they were collecting water and washing their clothes. The nearest paved road was more than a mile away on foot. Their car had broken down more than a month ago. There was simply no money to pay for the extensive repairs necessary.
Inside a woman, the homeowners wife, had just given birth. Her fair hair and skin glistened in the light. She lay asleep by the fire. Her brow was laden with sweat and dried tears remained on her face. What should have been a joyous occasion of pride and celebration had instead become melancholy. The woman had given birth to a set of twin boys.
Her sister was on her hands and knees wiping up the rest of the amniotic fluid with an old rag. The father was leaning against the untreated wood walls his hand on his face in a sign of defeat and resignation. All of the other family members had been sent away , sworn to secrecy. Next to their father, the boys were bundled up in warm cloth sleeping and peacefully unaware that both of them, since conception, we're fugitives. The rain continued to pound on the roof refusing to leave them alone.
"this cant be. How can this be? What are we going to do?" the father begged in utter defeat. He was a hardworking man who carved out an honest existence as a carpenter in town. He'd never broken a law in his entire life, always tried to do the right thing. Now he had broken the law one that was inexusable. If they were discovered the entire family would be in jeopardy.
"Gertude," he said sternly refusing to look up at either his sons or the young girl, "please-please take Gabriel town to the river and drown him." Gertrude went pale with terror but knew she had no choice but to follow her brother in laws orders.
With trembling hands she took the sleeping baby in her arms. His cheeks were rosy and his sweet eyes were still closed. She rushed out the door, shaking, and into the cool spring rain. Inside, the father wept and wept. He was absolutely disgusted with himself. He was a monster.
Outside the girl was rushing through the forest to get to the river. Once she reached its banks she got on her knees and prepared to submerge the screaming infant beneath its murky waters. She tried but her arms would not move. She just couldn't do it. Gabriel looked into her eyes and she just held him close to her.
Looking around she found a hollow piece of wood that was shaped like a shallow bowl. It would have to do. Gertrude knew four things. First she knew that she wasn't able to kill gabriel. He hadn't done anything wrong. But at the same time she knew that she couldn't bring Gabriel back. Michael would kill him then and chastise her for being weak. Gertrude knew that she had to give Gabriel a chance at life. There was another town fifty miles downstream and the river moved swiftly. It was his only hope.
After kissing the baby on the forehead she placed him carefully in the wooden bowl and sent him into the river. She could not stop the tears that rushed to her eyes. The rain had stopped and the two pine trees seemed to droop with a certain sadness.
When she got back to the cottage, she simply told Michael that it had been done. Two years later, she would hang herself from the branch of an oak tree outside. The guilt had destroyed her from the inside out. She was given a simple burial.
Gabriel, although unlikely, would make it to the town down the river. Gertrude had indeed saved his life. He was found by the daughter of a poor watchmaker. Although she and her husband were both very young, they felt that they had no choice but to bring the helpless infant into their family.
His new mother, Eleanor, was a lovely girl. She and her husband, a printer, named the child Jacob, unaware that he'd already been named by his birth parents. Like the child, eleanor had bright red hair. No one knew the child was not theirs nor did anyone question it. Jacob seamlessly became a member of the family. The couple never had any children of their own.
Jacob was a sweet and caring child, eager to please his parents. He was never told anything of his past. The little cherub simply enjoyed a carefree existence throughout his childhood never giving a thought about why he had brown eyes when both of his parents were blue.
Meanwhile, Lucas, the other twin, grew up with his parents. His father hated the child blaming it for all of the problems that the family had. He taunted the child mercilessly and despite his wife's pleas he beat the child with a belt at every error. If he ran through the garden he would be beaten. If he got a bad mark on a school paper he was beaten. When he spilled water on the new rug he was beaten. On his worse days Michael couldn't help but wonder if he had decided to kill the wrong twin.
The mother had always wondered what had become of her other son but on fear of being beaten by her brutal husband never felt that it was a good idea to bring the matter up. Somewhere deep within her she knew that her other son was alive. She had no way of knowing how happy he was but she truly believed thats somewhere out there he was alive. She loved Lucas dearly and tried to make sure that he was happy. He had her big brown eyes.
Lucas went to his first public execution when he was just sixteen. He was a tall lanky boy with a shock of red spiky hair on his head. He was wearing knickers and a button down shirt, clothes that he'd bought with his own money working at a clerk at the local general store. He didn't want his friends to know how poor his family was nor did he want them to know the sad truth that his father never bought him anything.
His mother bought all of his toys with the spare change she earned cleaning the neighbors houses. She never had any more children. Michael forbade that.
Lucas watched on as the gallows were set up for the criminals. Today two murderers and a set of twins would be hanged for all to watch. Lucas turned to his best friend Samantha and put a protective arm around her shoulder. She smiled and leaned her head carefully against Lucas's shoulder. She was wearing gray trousers and a black sweater that clung to her petite figure. Her and Lucas had been especially close in the past couple of months. She was the daughter of the towns book store owner.
" don't you find this just a little gruesome, Lucas" Katie asked nervously "I mean I can understand killing the murderers. That's an eye for an eye. What about the twins though? What did they ever do?"
"shh," Lucas said "didnt you learn anything in history class? It's 2200 and things are different than they used to be a hundred years ago. Technology was rid of and we brought back the old ways."
"but we still have phones and the hospitals are all advanced. I have a portable music player and a digital typewriter. I don't see how things were much different." Samantha's face fell.
Lucas smirked, "there used to be this thing called the Internet. It was horrible. It was a dangerous place and people were in able of properly using its immense power. It wasted peoples time and...oh there were just too many problems with it. People werent living their lives because the Internet became their lives. It was a terrible terrible thing so the government got rid of it and everyone just began reverting to a simpler existence."
"but what about the whole twin thing? And the executions?"
Having an answer for everything, Michael smiled and said, " that my dear is just as simple. Overpopulation was. Ad enough. Why would we need two copies of the same person ?" Samantha shrugged and Lucas smiled proudly.
What Lucas didn't know was that he wasn't with samantha at all. Samantha was an home in the attic. Instead, lucas was with Samantha's twin sister, Bethany. He had always found it a little odd that samantha sometimes didn't always remember dates they'd been on. He simply passed it off as her just being a little air-headed. He thought that it was cute.
What Lucas also didn't know was that his own twin lived a mere fifty miles away. Jacob was finishing school and serving as an apprentice to his father. He was proud to follow his fathers trade. He wanted to make his father proud.
It was lunch time and Jacob was sitting on a bench in the park, writing in his journal. Whilst he was writing Ophelia came up to him and sat down on the bench next to him. Her dark brown hair flowed over her shoulders. Jacob had just dyed his hair blonde.
"Why did you dye your hair, jake?"
Outside, the rain steadily fell upon the earth, immersing the parched soil with sweet pure water. Each drop fell to the ground with a light tap contributing to the overwhelming roar of the rain. Right on the edge of their property was a forest and in this forest there were two evergreen trees. Two strong firs that had taken root in the soil below them. Underground, their roots were intertwined. Conjoined.
on the property there was also a small cottage carefully assembled with the bricks and mortar bought on credit at the local general store. It was not a small shack nor was it a large palace. It was average and so were the people who occupied it.
A modest sized garden held several thriving vegetable plants and was separated from the nature around it only by a thin strip of rocks that had been found by the river one day whilst they were collecting water and washing their clothes. The nearest paved road was more than a mile away on foot. Their car had broken down more than a month ago. There was simply no money to pay for the extensive repairs necessary.
Inside a woman, the homeowners wife, had just given birth. Her fair hair and skin glistened in the light. She lay asleep by the fire. Her brow was laden with sweat and dried tears remained on her face. What should have been a joyous occasion of pride and celebration had instead become melancholy. The woman had given birth to a set of twin boys.
Her sister was on her hands and knees wiping up the rest of the amniotic fluid with an old rag. The father was leaning against the untreated wood walls his hand on his face in a sign of defeat and resignation. All of the other family members had been sent away , sworn to secrecy. Next to their father, the boys were bundled up in warm cloth sleeping and peacefully unaware that both of them, since conception, we're fugitives. The rain continued to pound on the roof refusing to leave them alone.
"this cant be. How can this be? What are we going to do?" the father begged in utter defeat. He was a hardworking man who carved out an honest existence as a carpenter in town. He'd never broken a law in his entire life, always tried to do the right thing. Now he had broken the law one that was inexusable. If they were discovered the entire family would be in jeopardy.
"Gertude," he said sternly refusing to look up at either his sons or the young girl, "please-please take Gabriel town to the river and drown him." Gertrude went pale with terror but knew she had no choice but to follow her brother in laws orders.
With trembling hands she took the sleeping baby in her arms. His cheeks were rosy and his sweet eyes were still closed. She rushed out the door, shaking, and into the cool spring rain. Inside, the father wept and wept. He was absolutely disgusted with himself. He was a monster.
Outside the girl was rushing through the forest to get to the river. Once she reached its banks she got on her knees and prepared to submerge the screaming infant beneath its murky waters. She tried but her arms would not move. She just couldn't do it. Gabriel looked into her eyes and she just held him close to her.
Looking around she found a hollow piece of wood that was shaped like a shallow bowl. It would have to do. Gertrude knew four things. First she knew that she wasn't able to kill gabriel. He hadn't done anything wrong. But at the same time she knew that she couldn't bring Gabriel back. Michael would kill him then and chastise her for being weak. Gertrude knew that she had to give Gabriel a chance at life. There was another town fifty miles downstream and the river moved swiftly. It was his only hope.
After kissing the baby on the forehead she placed him carefully in the wooden bowl and sent him into the river. She could not stop the tears that rushed to her eyes. The rain had stopped and the two pine trees seemed to droop with a certain sadness.
When she got back to the cottage, she simply told Michael that it had been done. Two years later, she would hang herself from the branch of an oak tree outside. The guilt had destroyed her from the inside out. She was given a simple burial.
Gabriel, although unlikely, would make it to the town down the river. Gertrude had indeed saved his life. He was found by the daughter of a poor watchmaker. Although she and her husband were both very young, they felt that they had no choice but to bring the helpless infant into their family.
His new mother, Eleanor, was a lovely girl. She and her husband, a printer, named the child Jacob, unaware that he'd already been named by his birth parents. Like the child, eleanor had bright red hair. No one knew the child was not theirs nor did anyone question it. Jacob seamlessly became a member of the family. The couple never had any children of their own.
Jacob was a sweet and caring child, eager to please his parents. He was never told anything of his past. The little cherub simply enjoyed a carefree existence throughout his childhood never giving a thought about why he had brown eyes when both of his parents were blue.
Meanwhile, Lucas, the other twin, grew up with his parents. His father hated the child blaming it for all of the problems that the family had. He taunted the child mercilessly and despite his wife's pleas he beat the child with a belt at every error. If he ran through the garden he would be beaten. If he got a bad mark on a school paper he was beaten. When he spilled water on the new rug he was beaten. On his worse days Michael couldn't help but wonder if he had decided to kill the wrong twin.
The mother had always wondered what had become of her other son but on fear of being beaten by her brutal husband never felt that it was a good idea to bring the matter up. Somewhere deep within her she knew that her other son was alive. She had no way of knowing how happy he was but she truly believed thats somewhere out there he was alive. She loved Lucas dearly and tried to make sure that he was happy. He had her big brown eyes.
Lucas went to his first public execution when he was just sixteen. He was a tall lanky boy with a shock of red spiky hair on his head. He was wearing knickers and a button down shirt, clothes that he'd bought with his own money working at a clerk at the local general store. He didn't want his friends to know how poor his family was nor did he want them to know the sad truth that his father never bought him anything.
His mother bought all of his toys with the spare change she earned cleaning the neighbors houses. She never had any more children. Michael forbade that.
Lucas watched on as the gallows were set up for the criminals. Today two murderers and a set of twins would be hanged for all to watch. Lucas turned to his best friend Samantha and put a protective arm around her shoulder. She smiled and leaned her head carefully against Lucas's shoulder. She was wearing gray trousers and a black sweater that clung to her petite figure. Her and Lucas had been especially close in the past couple of months. She was the daughter of the towns book store owner.
" don't you find this just a little gruesome, Lucas" Katie asked nervously "I mean I can understand killing the murderers. That's an eye for an eye. What about the twins though? What did they ever do?"
"shh," Lucas said "didnt you learn anything in history class? It's 2200 and things are different than they used to be a hundred years ago. Technology was rid of and we brought back the old ways."
"but we still have phones and the hospitals are all advanced. I have a portable music player and a digital typewriter. I don't see how things were much different." Samantha's face fell.
Lucas smirked, "there used to be this thing called the Internet. It was horrible. It was a dangerous place and people were in able of properly using its immense power. It wasted peoples time and...oh there were just too many problems with it. People werent living their lives because the Internet became their lives. It was a terrible terrible thing so the government got rid of it and everyone just began reverting to a simpler existence."
"but what about the whole twin thing? And the executions?"
Having an answer for everything, Michael smiled and said, " that my dear is just as simple. Overpopulation was. Ad enough. Why would we need two copies of the same person ?" Samantha shrugged and Lucas smiled proudly.
What Lucas didn't know was that he wasn't with samantha at all. Samantha was an home in the attic. Instead, lucas was with Samantha's twin sister, Bethany. He had always found it a little odd that samantha sometimes didn't always remember dates they'd been on. He simply passed it off as her just being a little air-headed. He thought that it was cute.
What Lucas also didn't know was that his own twin lived a mere fifty miles away. Jacob was finishing school and serving as an apprentice to his father. He was proud to follow his fathers trade. He wanted to make his father proud.
It was lunch time and Jacob was sitting on a bench in the park, writing in his journal. Whilst he was writing Ophelia came up to him and sat down on the bench next to him. Her dark brown hair flowed over her shoulders. Jacob had just dyed his hair blonde.
"Why did you dye your hair, jake?"
December 12, 2011
New Projects and OneWordforOneMinute: princess
Letters to Mom, as I've been saying, is almost done. I have about one month left in time to finish up. Very, very close.
I started a short story that takes place in a futuristic world where twins are killed. Very interesting concept. Making some connections to nature and adding a few more plot twists. I will post a section of it later.
One more thing. Here is a one word. Haven't done one in a while:
"You're my little princess," he said to me and I smiled. I thought about this for a second, "Okay, but then what does that make you?" I had to say it. I was stumped. I didn't know what to say. She just sat there, giving me that look and I just could tell how curious yet slightly pissed off she was. Sure, it was cute, but it was just so frustrating at the same time. She always had an intellectual one up on me.
And one more since it was an interesting prompt today:
I could hear his voice in my ear still, his voice echoing through it. "Princess," he had said. But what did that mean? Was I just this little pet that he kept up locked away. What a sick bastard, I though. I wasn't anyone's property. No way. I was just me and that's the way it was absolutely going to stay. It had to, right? I kept running.
One more:
Okay. So, I looked into her eyes and this is what I saw. I could tell she was trying to hide the fact that she was pretty, and it simply was not working. Her hair could be pretty if she grew it out. Her eyes could sparkle if she let her guard down. If she cared, clothes would look very nice on her body. But I just didn't understand. Why didn't she care? She could be a princess if she wanted to be.
I started a short story that takes place in a futuristic world where twins are killed. Very interesting concept. Making some connections to nature and adding a few more plot twists. I will post a section of it later.
One more thing. Here is a one word. Haven't done one in a while:
"You're my little princess," he said to me and I smiled. I thought about this for a second, "Okay, but then what does that make you?" I had to say it. I was stumped. I didn't know what to say. She just sat there, giving me that look and I just could tell how curious yet slightly pissed off she was. Sure, it was cute, but it was just so frustrating at the same time. She always had an intellectual one up on me.
And one more since it was an interesting prompt today:
I could hear his voice in my ear still, his voice echoing through it. "Princess," he had said. But what did that mean? Was I just this little pet that he kept up locked away. What a sick bastard, I though. I wasn't anyone's property. No way. I was just me and that's the way it was absolutely going to stay. It had to, right? I kept running.
One more:
Okay. So, I looked into her eyes and this is what I saw. I could tell she was trying to hide the fact that she was pretty, and it simply was not working. Her hair could be pretty if she grew it out. Her eyes could sparkle if she let her guard down. If she cared, clothes would look very nice on her body. But I just didn't understand. Why didn't she care? She could be a princess if she wanted to be.
December 2, 2011
Hello all. I'm back!
Okay. November was crazy. But after a day of rest, I am totally ready to open up a new chapter (no pun intended) in my writing. I learned a lot in National Novel Writing Month. I learn a lot about myself as a writer every year that I do it. And this year I learned that I can really push myself as a writer, and that maybe I need to do some more discovering in terms of who I am as a writer. I realized that this is seriously something I'd like to do professionally. And in order to do that, I'm going to need to find out exactly who I am as a writer. So, that's what I'm setting out to do.
Nevertheless, I'm putting my NaNo work aside for right now. It's great to have and I'll get to it eventually, but first and foremost I want to finish my first book and prepare it for submission. In terms of editing, I need to clean it out and make it all shiny and perfect. I'm excited regardless of the fact that I know it's going to be a MAJOR pain in the ass.
I also want to be committed to posting on here, because I feel like that by writing about my own writing and posting parts of it to read, I'll get to know myself as a writer. I also want to have a solid writing blog to look back on and reflect on in a few years. In essence, this is a time capsule. Thank you. I will try to post around 1-2 posts a day, whether it be philosophical speculation, a onewordforoneminute or a snippet from something I'm working on.
For today, let's start with just that. Here's a short passage from my book Letters to Mom:
We all hung out and listened to my underground punk music until about seven when we finally heard dad's car pull up in the driveway. When he came in, he took his coat off and asked, “Hey? I didn't get invited to the party?” We were all sprawled out over the couch and on the floor, drinking soda, eating Cheeto's and listening to the sweet sound of Secondhand Serenade. I was sitting in Isaac's lap and had orange dust all over my face when he came in.
We all just laughed and said him and asked how his day at work was. “Is it okay if Sadie and Patrick stay for dinner tonight?” I asked, pouting. Isaac rubbed my leg and giggled.
“The more the merrier,” dad said, going into the kitchen to grab a drink, “I won't crash your little get together. I'll be up in my office if you need me. I'll call in the pizza for delivery in like twenty minutes or so?”
We all nodded and once dad was upstairs, we went back to talking. “Your dad is fucking amazing, Eli,” Patrick said, “If we had a dad like that growing up, maybe we wouldn't be fucked up.” Isaac grabbed me tight. Sadie looked at me worried.
“Patrick,” Isaac said, feeling responsible for his brother's foolishness, “Our parents are fine. They're just a little bit different.”
“They kicked you out,” Patrick pointed out. It was true. My dad would never kick me out. I knew that now, even if I wasn't so sure just a couple of months ago. Dad was amazing, mom, but I felt bad to think that Patrick and Isaac were always comparing themselves to mine.
Isaac gave Patrick a stone cold look, “It worked out, okay? I'm really happy here. It's actually helping our relationship.”
“Okay,” Patrick said defeated, “Have you guys picked a date yet?”
Nevertheless, I'm putting my NaNo work aside for right now. It's great to have and I'll get to it eventually, but first and foremost I want to finish my first book and prepare it for submission. In terms of editing, I need to clean it out and make it all shiny and perfect. I'm excited regardless of the fact that I know it's going to be a MAJOR pain in the ass.
I also want to be committed to posting on here, because I feel like that by writing about my own writing and posting parts of it to read, I'll get to know myself as a writer. I also want to have a solid writing blog to look back on and reflect on in a few years. In essence, this is a time capsule. Thank you. I will try to post around 1-2 posts a day, whether it be philosophical speculation, a onewordforoneminute or a snippet from something I'm working on.
For today, let's start with just that. Here's a short passage from my book Letters to Mom:
We all hung out and listened to my underground punk music until about seven when we finally heard dad's car pull up in the driveway. When he came in, he took his coat off and asked, “Hey? I didn't get invited to the party?” We were all sprawled out over the couch and on the floor, drinking soda, eating Cheeto's and listening to the sweet sound of Secondhand Serenade. I was sitting in Isaac's lap and had orange dust all over my face when he came in.
We all just laughed and said him and asked how his day at work was. “Is it okay if Sadie and Patrick stay for dinner tonight?” I asked, pouting. Isaac rubbed my leg and giggled.
“The more the merrier,” dad said, going into the kitchen to grab a drink, “I won't crash your little get together. I'll be up in my office if you need me. I'll call in the pizza for delivery in like twenty minutes or so?”
We all nodded and once dad was upstairs, we went back to talking. “Your dad is fucking amazing, Eli,” Patrick said, “If we had a dad like that growing up, maybe we wouldn't be fucked up.” Isaac grabbed me tight. Sadie looked at me worried.
“Patrick,” Isaac said, feeling responsible for his brother's foolishness, “Our parents are fine. They're just a little bit different.”
“They kicked you out,” Patrick pointed out. It was true. My dad would never kick me out. I knew that now, even if I wasn't so sure just a couple of months ago. Dad was amazing, mom, but I felt bad to think that Patrick and Isaac were always comparing themselves to mine.
Isaac gave Patrick a stone cold look, “It worked out, okay? I'm really happy here. It's actually helping our relationship.”
“Okay,” Patrick said defeated, “Have you guys picked a date yet?”
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