Friday, February 18, 2011

Bottoms Up

This is a scene from 'A Step Over the Edge'. John and Jessica are in a van with Susan and Mr Thompson, the principle of Johns school. A messy situation has developed, so read it. Enjoy!

“What are you doing?” asked Jessica, looking rather angered for the first time that night. “Do you have any plans here, this is looking really stupid,” she continued.

I panicked, looking around, thinking about the gun, the murder I had outwardly committed in the presence of two innocent lovers just trying to escape the world. That’s what I wanted to do, escape the world.

“What are you going to do once they get back to our car? Kill them? – This wasn’t part of the plan. If we let them go they will tell the cops for sure. We’re both going to end up in prison because of your stupid mistakes.”

I had the same fears that she had, but I didn’t want to kill Mr Thomson, in fact I refused. I told her, “We’re not killing them. They are going to leave. I will take the blame for everything, they only seen me kill, right? You are good; I promise I won’t say anything.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Those were the last words she said to me the entire ride. We had whispered, but I wondered if Mr Thomson and Susan could hear anything that we were saying. I wanted them to know that I didn’t want to hurt them, but they did look scared. Terrified even, their worlds were collapsing all around them. No one spoke; they just stared awkwardly into different directions. The lack of any conversation drove me to insanity. My mind wandering circles around its-self – I’m sure that I was probably more terrified in our situation than they were. I was risking my relationship with Jessica, the girl I abandoned the rest of the world for, and my freedom, as I was sure I’d end up locked behind bars. My world was over as I knew it. I was certain that I’d rather risk everything then to kill Mr Thompson, the guilt would have destroy me.

We finally made it back to the car. It had slid about three feet into the ditch, light snow and ice causing it to slide when we attempted to pull it out. “Thanks.” I said, stepping out of their vehicle. Jessica followed, and I started towards the car. I looked back and Susan was burning out on the ice, trying to make a quick escape. Both Jessica and I could have jumped back in before they finally found the traction for movement, but neither of us did. We let them run, not fully explaining our intentions, and knowing that we were fucked. There’s no other word to describe the mess that we were in.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

A Reach for the Parallel

This is a fictional little snippet that I wrote about Steve, a lost soul obsessed to create a new reality.


Do you ever notice that any time anyone tells you not to do something you instantly want to do it? Or that no plan ever seems to work out how you want it to? My name is Steven, a pretty common name I guess. My entire life has been spent rarely socialising with anyone, or ever feel the urge to. Growing up I had one true passion, and that was for fame. I don’t understand what I liked so much about the idea, but it naturally pulled my attention towards things that seemed impossible. For example, I wanted to act, be a famous movie star or something, but there’s no chance of that ever happening where I live. I’m not sure if what I craved was the money, the attention and popularity, being known? When that didn’t work out I went to music. I enjoyed the thrill of creating music, creating whatever kind of feel that I was in the mood for with a harmonic symphony of my amp as distorted as it possibly could be. The roar of the vibrations giving me full authority of my own sound, and I struggled to turn it into some kind of fame.

It was difficult, but I managed to find some other band mates. None of them seemed to have the drive to push their talents like I did. The image of fame wasn’t as important to them. Nick told me, “It’s not about selling out dude, it’s about the music.”

I couldn’t fathom what he was trying to tell me. The music? How could it be just about the music? It’s only sound. It’s displaced by vibrations depicting our feelings, but what good is it if only we listened to it? I couldn’t handle his attitude towards music so I appointed myself the one to get rid of him. I was doing the band a favour, but they didn’t see it that way.

Outside of the band, my only other friend was an average at everything sort of person named Barney. It was a difficult name to take serious. I always thought of the dinosaur. But unlike me he didn’t seek fame. He did his school-work because his parents told him to, he didn’t play video games because they didn’t let him do that either. He was a slave to his parents, never allowed to go out, and not allowed to play guitar because they thought it was trashy. They were a family moulded by a strong ignorant attitude towards trying to represent perfection. Like the image of a perfect family. They had brand new vehicles, a car and a jacked-up truck in their four-car garage, and a decently sized house. They were by no means rich, you could tell they were struggling but they always had to have the best of everything. It looked pathetic trying to maintain a life like that, so I kept on pushing to find fame, so it could solve all of my problems.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

The Voice of John

My novel, 'A Step Over the Edge' is nearly complete. I have a few minor details to add, an ending to perfect, and a TON of editing to do, but my work is finally starting to pay off. This is a rough idea of an introduction that I'm working on, trying to tie the ending with the intro and foreshadow the events that take place throughout the story. This was a quick attempt, one that may not make the cut during editing, but here is the idea that I've started to brainstorm for the intro to my first novel. ENJOY!;

If you are reading this it is likely that I’m either dead or in prison. The assumption is not for certain, but this story was in fact put together as a depiction of the events that I’ve been through. At the moment of writing this I’m seated on a desk next to a window with lace curtains that don’t completely drown out the lights glare from the street. I believe we are in Crowsnest Past, a small mountain town bordering the entrance to British Columbia. We’ve come so close to our destination point, to fail now would be complete heart break.

The car we were driving, the Ford Mustang is parked a couple blocks away from our motel, just in case. If we make it through to morning without police showing up where we're staying then we have planned to assume it’s safe to use the car for the rest of our journey. Jessica is lying on the bed, listening to the clicking of my typing, oblivious of what I am writing. She is so elegant, a pure beauty, and her physical properties alone are irresistable. I guess you could say that I’m weak, or assume that I've become completely overtaken by her seductive nature; but she is mine, and together we travel.

It wasn’t until recently that I became a fugitive; a corrupt soul running from the law - an endless struggle. It all started less than a year ago upon losing control over my-self from the presence of Jessica sheer beauty. I’ve given everything up for her. I knew from the moment I laid my eyes on her that I had to have her, despite any of the consequences involved. I didn’t think things would turn this hectic, but I wouldn’t turn it back for anything. My life before meeting Jessica had become a routine of expectations that I blindly followed, chasing the cliché dreams of education and personal image. That is all left behind now, all for a life that I replaced it with. I don’t consider myself a murderer although I have killed. I have never killed anyone who didn’t deserve it – the act was saved for corrupted wastes of life, at least the ones that weren’t by accident. The first murder was an accident, I promise, and I didn’t want it to happen, but it did and it was the starting point of my changed perspective. There’s no point in regretting the past so I’ve embraced it, used my lack of fear to my own advantage, and together Jessica and I have made a pact to aid each other through any trouble we may find ourselves in.

Before this change my life was nothing spectacular. I lived with a drunken, abusive father who was a sucker for my mother even though she used him in nearly every way that she could - financially and emotionally. It was difficult to watch, to be a part of, and my family life had probably tainted me in a sense – but it’s all behind me now. This is my life now, and to show you what I left behind I will start from the beginning - when I took a step over the edge.