Friday, February 2, 2007

i used to probably kinda write good actually!

i'm really bored, and feel like posting some shit. here are copies of three short stories i wrote for a rhetoric class in high school.





Dead Souls


Jennifer was a goddess. And there was no denying this, considering every man in school would grovel like a peasant upon her entrance. Teachers liked her, men adored her, gods seemed to envy her, and every fellow female classmate wanted to be her. I guess it would be easier just to sum her up as flawless. But I was her Achilles heal. And everyone seemed to know that, and they would get enraged with jelousy and hatred just thinking about it. And I loved every minute of it.

It all had started when Jennifer was dating one of her usual "once-a-week" disposable men, his name was Jack or Jeremy or something of that nature. That is when she noticed me. She kept her head high in the air, as if she didn't know I existed,. but I knew she was watching. She was waiting for the signal, the remark, the usual face dropping "Oh my God" expression, but I showed none. Her ego went from cloud nine to ground zero in a matter of seconds. And that's when I became her conquest. She had to change me, make me into a fellow devoted worshipper of the ground she walked on, but I frankly didn't care for that sort of immature crap. I didn't feel like playing any of the stupid mind games that she plays with everyone else, and it made her hysterical. That mad hysteria about my intolerance of her general perfection suddenly grew into her obsession. And her obsession gradually grew into a sick form of love. Well, maybe it wasn't love. Maybe it was only an extreme lust for my submission, my permission to let her dominate me. Then again, maybe it was a kind of psycho stalker love that you see on soap operas and B movies. Or maybe I was wrong on all three counts. I really didn't care though. It was my turn to have some fun with the princess.

The fun started on a normal Tuesday, and it was really quite easy. All I had to do was ignore her, and I did. But the way I did it, with such perfection and careful concentration it made me feel like a surgeon operating on her emotions. I had to take extreme care in making just the exact cuts; otherwise my plan could fall to shambles. But my first incision was a success. I simply played it cool, ignored her existence, and recieved no response. I was standing in a hallway of followers, and I was the only one exercising rebellion. And I could tell, just by the split-second glance, her evil glare, and a sudden pick up in her pace that I was sinking in, creating an engraving in her mind that she couldn't erase no matter how hard she tried. My only reaction was to laugh at her giant weakness. I had discovered this perfect, God's gift to earth's flaw. And it was a glaring fault indeed. But the little shiny glare slowly progressed into a ball of ugly light brighter than the brightest of stars.

I kept up my simple process of ignoring and not giving a single thought towards this high and mighty female, and I started to get worried. Worried that my perfect plan was beginning to fail. I just assured myself that I had to keep faith in it and keep it up. Soon after, I recieved a little reassurance that it was not only in fact working, but working marelously. I learned this by noticing a little note on the windshield of my car after school one day. I pulled it out from under the wiper, unfolded it in a slow, gift-like manner, and began to read its contents.

"Prick"

It was written in nice handwriting and obviously from a girlish pink pen. This may sound either insignificant or just plain rude, but it was neither. I had a gut feeling that this was from her, and if it was, it just goes to show that I was inside her head. I had snuck in the backdoor and made myself at home, and there was nothing she could do to kick me out. The only thing the note represented was her first stage of emotional distress: loathing. She hated me for what I was doing to her, how I was making her feel, and how my sheer image in her head caused her to think others would soon notice my presence and knock her down from her throne. She couldn't have that. She didn't want to lose her popularity, her admiration, the exuberant joy she got from knowing she had control. That control was slowly slipping away, and that loss of power was slowly causing her to crack.

The slight glimpses and evil glares had stopped. They had now become full on stares; complete with an empty look in the eyes and straight faced hidden frown. I would just simply take a quick glance, shake my head, and laugh. And it was great. I was slowly starting to drive this woman to complete mental dysfunction, and I felt great aobut it. This was about the only thing she deserved in her life, and that was to feel the misery she inflicted on others ten fold. And the more misery inflicted, the more control I gained. Then I would dominate, she would succumb, and the torch would be passed. But things started to get a little more serious than I originally thought they would.

I exited the school that next week to find another note on my windshield. I grabbed it and proceeded to read it, and what I read was expected and startling at the same time.

"I love you"

Most people would be excited by the prospect of someone unknown leaving love notes on their personal property, but all it did for me was give me the chills. I had somehow created love in the mind of a girl I have never talked to, and never really cared for. It's kind of a neat feeling at first, but once you think about it, all you feel is dishonest and fake. This girl had grown from hatred of me to a supposed love, not because I showed interest in her, but because I showed a total lack thereof. I guess that means she's moved on to stage two.

The hidden frown and empty eyes have now grown into a disorganized smirk and a half-slant look with her eyes, almost like they're smiling. And what do I do, might you ask? The same thing I have done since day one. Ignore, glance, and let out a little bit of sarcastic laughter. Once I begin to laugh, her face from mildly excited and flirtatious to a bluish-hue sad enough to shed tears. I just don't think she can make herself realize the truth, the truth that I really could care less about her or what happens to her in life. Her hopes still seem to rise each day though, as if I will suddenly wake up and realize what a chance I'm missing out on, how stupid I am for doing this, etc. The only problem is that you can't wake up when your eyes are already wide open.

Then things started to get strange. Instead of me keeping her as a little thought, a ploy perhaps, in the back of my head, she started to become all I could think about. Every day I would just wonder how she was going to react to my total disregard of her feelings, and these thoughts began to take over. I was starting to wonder if I was the one that was losing control. My entire life began to revolve around tormenting her mind, and it seemed like I was tormenting my own at the same time. But no matter. The show must go on, and I was the ringmaster of chaos. I began to recieve phone calls at different times in the evening, but as soon as I answered the other line would hang up. I knew it had to be her. She had almost lost total control, hitting the brink of madness by prank calling me just to hear my voice. She was almost in total admiration of me. And my feelings for her were nonexistent at best. But just a few days later, she wasn't in school. Rumors flew abound, as everybody knew that Jennifer never misses a day of school, so something serious had to be up. And after school that day, there was another note on my windshield. This one was more disturbing than any I had recieved as of yet.

"You knew I loved you
And you rejected me
How can I live without you?
You know the answer to that
I simply can't"


I suddenly realized what I had done. I caused a young woman to take her own life because she couldn't have mine. I never knew that I could mean so much to someone, that they would commit suicide to prove to me their devotion. I had won the battle, but inevitably lost the war. I really guess there's nothing left for me now. I had gained total control over a human being, and instead of causing them to flourish, I had caused them to choose death over an ignored life. I figured I owed her a favor for that one. Later on that night, I decided how to repay her. If her love was in fact true, she could only be truly happy with me for the rest of eternity. My method of destiny just happened to be a single bullet to the right temple.


The next day, Jennifer showed up for school as usual, with her head high and her usual league of followers. But today she had added an evil smirk to her usual emotionless face.




She had won.




The Big Come Down


I lie still, still as a white corpse. I can't move. If I move, they'll see me. I can't let them see me. Looking at the ceiling, all I can see is a dark reflection of my soul. I've got to get out of here. The walls are moving in. They're coming. They've found me, and I can't move. I've got to run, run and hide. But where? They'll find me. I can feel my heart beat through my entire body. Their voices echo in the hell I've created. I have to run. Finally, my body gives in to my mind. I jump off my bed and sprint like a madman to the door. I can still hear them. They're getting closer. I've got to run farther, faster. Running down the stairwell, all I can hear is the agonizing voices. Their low-pitched drawl has turned into a high-pitched scream. I can't make it stop. Why is this happening to me? What have I done to deserve this?

I'm finally outside. The wind grasps my body in its frozen breath. All I can see is the empty eyes of the uncaring people in my way. My arms feel still and numb. Looking down, all I see is blood, dripping off my fingers like an old faucet. They've gotten to me, and all they want is to kill me. I've got to get away. All I can do is run. I run from my fears like a stray dog from its master. I'm gasping for air, but I can't stop. My body seems to be falling apart with every step I take. But I can't stop. My body finally calls it quits. I fall to the concrete like a collapsed skyscraper. My entire body feels like it's swelling, and yet I can't feel my heartbeat. I think I've lost too much blood. My hands and arms are now as red as my pain. Every vein in my appendages seem to be protruding from my skin like they're trying to escape. Trying to get out of this wasted body of mine. And the people still just walk around me. Trying to go on with their everyday lives, trying not to see what's really going on. They just haven't seen what I've seen. My palms glisten a crimson red in the artificial light of the streets. But I've got to get away.

I crawl into the nearest doorway I can find, trying to find a place to take momentary cover. The light from the ceiling causes my eyes to squint as I gaze upward. A man appears from behind the counter and says something incoherent, like the echo of an echo. He suddenly stands above me, but all I can see is an outline of a body covered in shadow. But I can still see in his eyes. His eyes are empty, like evil trying to hide behind innocence. He says something again, yet this time even louder and more distraught, my ears trying to comprehend the madness my mind cannont understand. And then I felt more pain. The bruising of flesh, the shattering of my own fragile insides. The mind-numbing pain overcomes my entire body like a virus, and I can't make it stop. My only choice is to get away. I've got to run. I've got to hide. But the pain won't let me. I suddenly feel more sharp amounts of pain in my sides. The shadowy figure is moving beside me at a very quick pace, and the background behind him begins to blur. I close my eyes, and pray for it to stop. I pray for the absence of the pain, of the struggling, of the fear. And then I finally open my eyes. And after what I see, I pray for a quick and forgiving death.

The darkness encompasses me, and tries to take hold of whatever control I have left. But my mind and my body seem to be working on two different sides of the plane, and neither one is working for me. I can't see any light; everything is black and yet somehow is planning against me. Through the empty darkness I can make out something. I can see a smile, a sweet smile that seems to understand me. A smile that says it can take away all my pain, without even saying a word. I finally feel a sense of peace. A moment of sheer joy. But now the smile is gone, and has replaced itself with a hideous grin. A grin that somehow is darker than the blackness of its surroundings. I feel a sudden rush in my heart, a rush that instantaneously flows through my entire body. The blackness turns into a light so white my eyes become dry like the desert air and burn in agony. My eyelids force themselves shut, and the friction feels as if glass shards dig themselves even deeper into my glossy reddish eyes. The heat from the light is beginning to scorch away at my skin, while my screams of agony seem silent. The searing of the light stops.

The brightness of the light has dimmed, now a more pleasant tone. I gasp for a deep breath, only to swallow a mouthful of water. I can see my surroundings, but there isn't anything there. My vision is limited to the refraction of the dim light against the ice-cold water. Glancing upward, I see even more light, as if there is possibly a surface to this frozen grave. Only I can't go upward. I can see the surface; I can see my goal, that deep breath of cool midnight air floating above the water's peak. I push and kick my way upward, but to no avail. I'm slowly sinking downward. The light becomes dimmer and almost non-existent the further down I drop, and the pressure is building upon me. All I can feel is the weight of the water pushing against me on all sides, trying to persuade me into giving in, trying to crush me until I'm nothing more than a floating part of my surroundings. And I can't allow myself to give in. I've made it this far, there's no point in giving in. I continue my struggle, as the water pressure builds on me at a steady pace. I try and try to push myself upward, to the one thing I never knew I'd strive for: air. Precious oxygen. My lungs are trying to force me to take a breath, a final swallow of the icy liquid. But I keep on pushing, pushing for a seemingly unreachable goal. And the force pulling me down finally gives way. My body strides upward through the depths of the bottomless grave, getting closer and closer to the light with every push. I finally reach the point where the light seems imminent, air only a few feet away, and my lungs finally force a breath. I take a large swallow of the body-numbing water, and I began to fall.

I don't understand. I'm now somehow out of the water, yet I'm falling. The speed of the still air moving against my plummeting body increases quickly. I now can see below me, and I can see bits of light, like the lights of a city. They began to get larger and larger with every second, and my mind finally comprehends. I'm falling to earth. I have no time to consider my pain I am still feeling, just what's going to happen when I come crashing down. My heart rate begins to increase steadily, along with my breathing, and I am out of options. There is no way around this. I can't make myself slow down, I can't make the landing soft, I can't try and save my life. I realized the worst part of coming down is the moments before you hit bottom.

I have regained full control of all the functions of my body and mind, and yet I can't save them. I have but a few precious moments left, and I can't do anything to make them meaningful. I can finally see what's real and what's not, and yet my hands are still soaked in warm blood. Can I be dreaming? Could this be one big nightmare? Why have I done this to myself? How could I have been so blind this whole time? I tried to place the blame on others, and place pity on myself, when yet everything that I've gotten myself into has been one giant cluster bomb that exploded in every direction, and affected everything that I once knew. And all of this I finally discover in the last few seconds of my life. But then I look down, and see that the blood on my hands is finally gone. My heart is slowing down, my lungs cutting the pace. I open my eyes to see the same dark room I am used to seeing every day, yet everything is different.



I finally feel alive.






The Beginning of the End


I had a dream last night. It wasn't a happy-go-lucky, jumping sheep, flying through the clouds kind of dream. It was a dream about death. A death of an unknown, seen through my eyes. It was a death that had occurred even before life had begun. Most people would call dreams about death a nightmare, but this wasn't. In some unimaginable way, a dream about death had a happy ending. It was probably the happiest of endings you could imagine for any dream dealing with death. But I'll get to that later. Because before you hear the ending, you might as well hear the rest of the story.

It was dark, cold, and smelled of urine and stale cigarette smoke. Then I opened my eyes. My surroundings were unfamiliar to me, as though I had been sleepwalking and ended up somewhere I had never intended to be. But it wasn't just the fact that nothing looked familiar, it was the fact that I had no idea what familiar even looked like. No recollection of a hometown, or even a home, for that matter. I stood up, and looked around for any signs, people, anything that might show me where exactly I am. But alas, nothing of the sort. All I could see were stained and dim cement walls, held up by large beams, probably made of iron. The light in the room was scarce, which gave me sort of an anti-claustrophobic feeling; not like the walls were closing in, but like they were moving away. I then figured leaving this place was my best bet. Besides, the smell was about to make me vomit. The only problem was I didn't really know a way out. The only visible parts of the walls were so stained with age and mold, telling a window from a door would take serious effort on your behalf. And I didn't really trust the areas that were too dark to see in. One could be a twenty-story drop for all I could tell. But I couldn't just hang around the light like a moth to a candle. I had to get out.

Upon closer investigation, one of the stained walls actually did contain a door. Where it led, I didn't know. But that was a chance I was going to have to be willing to take. Before I can even grab the handle, the door begins to make a loud scream, like the sound of water trying to rush through half-frozen pipes. I take a few steps back to hopefully keep myself out of harm's way. Then the noise stopped. All was quiet for a few seconds, which seemed to lag on for hours to my over--precautious mind. My heart rate was highly above normal, sweat beads streaming down my face like the tears of wounded children. Then the door began to open. It seemed to be opening slower than time itself, while my body braced itself for the best and the worst of what could lurk from its shadows. What was behind that door was finally visible. Nothing. Not a soul was hiding in the yellow light of the doorway. But something else interesting was in that particular doorway...stairs. And my decision here could even eventually mean life and death. But the risk seemed to have a higher reward than playing it safe. So I walked into the doorway, and climbed up the stairs to my newfound world. To this day I still wish I would have been the coward and stayed behind.

I take the final step towards what I thought was my escape from the dark and unknown that lies below. What I entered was only a mirror image, slightly blurred and on a larger scale. It was a world I had never seen, and one I couldn't have imagined. It was beautiful and perfect, but with an overwhelming sense of inescapable imending doom. Everything was bright and loud, with a dark shadow looming overhead. The world I had entered gave me a fullness almost undesired. It was unnerving. All it seemed to stand for was hate, pain, and suffering covered up by a pretty mask. I was determined from that point on to cause the damage to this new world that it had begged for with sadistic glee.

It was world without crime, without punishment, without truth. Every single person I saw had the same total sense of happiness and cause plastered all over their perfect faces. But underneath that layer of beauty and good was a rotten core of unimaginable proportions, with loathing and ugliness that extended out to even their very peers. And it had appeared to be my calling. I was to be the one to let the lion out of his cage. Death and destruction were what these excuses for human beings wanted, and I was going to give it to them.

I began to relish this new world, first by invading it like I was truly a part of it. I became what people most being: A nobody. A person who appeared to be an exact equal of the majority, when their true intentions are really more outstanding than anyone had ever began to think. But the true genius of my plan was that I could easily go about then began the process of recruiting. For my cause to work, I had to be a leader. And there is no such thing as a leader without followers. So I began to watch the crowd. I would slowly dissect a person's mind, by even their most simplistic actions. I slowly sifted through the population, letting only the truly pride-less and faithful not slip through the cracks. I was slowly building my army. Most of them were reluctant at first to even try and comprehend what my true message was, but time only made things easier. The slow erosion of their own self worth was replaced by a devout devotion to me. They were no longer objective persons with opinions. They were mindless sheep, following me to an eventual destruction of themselves and the rest of their peers. They spoke my message, spreading it like a cancer in the heart of their own society. They were my creation. And what is created must eventually be destroyed.

The clock was ticking, and no one knew that time was running out. They were all the destroyers of themselves, my job was just to simply make sure they carried it out correctly. Anger was starting to slowly build into higher and higher amounts, and society as a whole began to hate itself. Then the clock stopped. It had begun, and now it just had to run its cycle. The world unknowingly began to kill itself off by the hundreds, then the thousands, and eventually millions. And no one seemed to notice what was truly happening. They had never been able to make the realization that with a world so perfect, one tiny flaw could set the whole thing ablaze. If it had been a world where hate, pain, suffering, and death were an everyday thing, life learns to adapt. But if life remains in a perfect state for so long, even the mild introduction of any of those elements means life must start itself over, this time with a new set of rules.



And only we can hope it abides by them.









i feel so special.
-bigal

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