This particular scene from, 'A Step Over the Edge' is an insight into the passions that Scott and his brother, David shared together.
Drums were David’s particular obsession. He managed to turn his garage into a make-shift recording studio. He built himself a soundproof room, walls stuffed with insulation and it even had windows looking out. Inside was his drum set, the thing that he loved even more than his wife. He invested in an eighteen channel mixer and all around it were strings of wires and cables strung all over the room to amps, microphones, and instruments of all sorts. He had a a unique collection and loved his music, but the best part was that David and Scott shared their passions together. Scott missed sitting on the stool in that room, being completely cut off from the rest of the world with just his brother and his acoustic guitar. Scott played his Takamine acoustic more than any other one of his guitars. It had the most beautiful ring to it with a neck that was perfectly calibrated and tuned to perfection. When he was buying it he made sure that it was designed with built in pickups, the best that he could find. Scott considered his acoustic guitar his mid-life crisis present to try and justify the purchase to his wife. It was expensive, probably more than he should have spent, maybe even more than he could afford, but he took it, and loved it either way. The takamine took up most of his playing time and he rarely ever used his Les Paul, which he promised he’d never get bored of when he made that one of his investments. Linda was furious, screaming, “What are you thinking? We have to save up for a house, establish ourselves, get ready for a family! Why you are wasting your money on things like this?” She just didn't understand.
He was still young, he had a career started, he had no worries, and that is what he wanted, so he got it. He still took it over to David’s after he got the acoustic, but most sessions were played with the melody of the acoustic. He plugged it into one of specialty costumed acoustic amplifiers, and recorded it with two microphones that captured the speakers sound from a right angle. They all had a microphone with a stand in front of them for vocals - in case they found the courage to give it their all, but most cases no one worked up the fortitude to present their voice.
Everyone usually wore headphones - giant black ones that cut out the sound of the rest of the room. Through the headphones they could hear each other, both instrument and voice to complete exquisiteness. It took almost ten years of Dave’s life to complete such a set up and although it was extremely amateur, he was passionate about it. He had more money than Scott did because he was smart and had been a lucky investor. He shared his wealth with Scott when he needed it. He was a well established, happy individual.
Scott grabbed his acoustic, set it on his lap and thought about his brother. He lightly plucked the strings, trying not to attract attention from his family. He let his mind wander. He was in a state of true disappointment, anger, and sadness; it was a fuel that he didn’t know how to control. He wanted to find his brothers murderer. He wanted to know what had happened. He knew that no matter what Linda said, he thought it would be more rewarding to kill whoever was responsible and get vengeance than try to punish him through the legal system. Scott knew how light the legal system was and he believed that his brother's murderer deserved much more.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Where Have I Been?
Where have I been? There's a good reason why I haven't kept up on posts and I'll try to explain.
I've been playing allot of music lately, guitar mostly. I have a couple of friends whom are amazing musicians and through their influence I gained an obsession to record my own music. I have been using ubuntu, a version of linux for a while since my friend showed it to me. I replaced windows on my computer and loved it. It ran faster, it had a huge list of free software downloads and I became accustomed to it. With some birthday money I bought a 2-channel usb audio interface to find out after that it wasn't compatible with linux. I didn't really want to switch back but I was eager to start recording so I put windows 7 back on my computer. After about a week of using windows I got fed up and missed ubuntu, so I decided to take the mixer back and get one that would work. I got a line 6 two channel mixer built for guitar and I was able to download linux line 6 drivers for it. When I switched my computer back to ubuntu I almost lost all of my files (thank god I didn't), but it was a real scare. After running linux recording programs I decided that maybe I could use 20 or so gigs of my hard drive for windows xp. My reasoning was that xp is the smallest size, easiest running windows and I only wanted it so I could experiment with the software I got with the usb audio driver. When I switched it over it messed everything right up so I was unable to get back into ubuntu and only 10 gigs of my drive was usable. I did the fresh reinstall and everything for ubuntu (saved my files on external drive) and started over. It works great but I'm still working out some kinks. Thats my story, an odd newly formed obsession that has been taking over my time. I promise I will make more time for my blog and fulfill your needs for fiction but in the meantime I will still be experimenting with the sound recording linux packages and hopefully provide you with some recordings!
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Who's in Charge?
A scene from, "A Step Over the Edge." This is a scene when characters John, Jessica, Chad, Mr Thomson, and Susan all end up in the same vehicle... Ironic? Read to find out.
Scott just nodded and sat in an awkward silence. There was tension in the air, an uneasy fury of emotions flooding the speechless interior of the inescapable surroundings. Scott had no idea what these kids had been plotting, or doing with their feeble lives. It seemed like a century ago when Scott talked with John in his office about going to therapy. Everything was well, or so the psychologist said. He had raised some suspicions at first, but the later sessions were recorded as beneficial, with great improvements, and he believed that the sociopath suspicion was a miss-diagnoses. It didn’t make any sense how such a harmless, good-willed child could just go to such hell. “John, what are your real plans? What have you been up to?” asked Scott, finally gaining the courage to interrogate. He couldn’t just let him run away without any explanation, and most importantly, Scott craved knowledge about his brother. He believed that John had something to do with it, or his demon girlfriend at least.
“Not allot, I just need a change of scenery”-
“You’re such a rotten liar.” Interrupted Chad, “why don’t you tell him what you’re really up to? Try to threaten him with your gun.”
Scott’s eyes were fixed on John and the fear of what he his real intentions were. He was terrified at the thought of being shot, having a lead bullet ripping through his flesh and cracking through the solid structure of bone. He could imagine it, and the fear of powerlessness that overtook him due to the defenceless state he was in. He had just wanted to help them get out of the snow.
“I don’t have a gun,” replied John. He rolled his eyes in denial, but the fear of the thought of being discovered was evident on his face. He gave a dirty stare to Chad and shook his head.
No one knew what to say. Scott thought that if he could put off the thoughts of dying and pretended that he didn’t suspect anything of them, he’d probably be safer.
“I’m telling you man, he has a gun. You should call the cops, this kid will kill you,” interrupted Chad once again, breaking the silence. He didn’t know what he was provoking, he believed John to be a pathetic gutless wimp who would never even be able to kill a deer, let alone a person, even if he had to. Chad had not really taken his situation that seriously, and John was starting to feel he may have to prove himself. Chad didn’t think he was in any real danger, even if John did manage to find a gun.
Scott started to fear his situation even more, and he could tell that Susan was also on edge. He felt responsible for what he had burdened her with, but they were forced to pull through that situation together and try to respond the best that they could. He indiscreetly pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it towards the outside door. He opened it and prayed that no one could see the green glow of the screen illuminating the side of his leg.
“What are you doing?” asked Jessica.
Scott looked back to see her big blue eyes glaring awkwardly at him. “I’m uh,” he stuttered fearfully, “I was just reading a text from my brother,” he lied. The thought of David flooded his thoughts, the memories they had together, and his realisation of loss sparked a sense of hate towards Jessica. John had become the devil because of her, destroying not just his own life, but everyone else’s around him. Scott felt certain that they had been associated with his brother’s murder, and he decided he’d feel safer letting the authorities take care of it, despite his past feelings of hope for John.
“Give me your phone,” she demanded.
Susan stopped the van on the side of the road and turned around. “Don’t you dare talk to him like that,” while she grabbed Jessica around the wrist in dominance.
Jessica pulled her arm violently from Susan’s grasp and glared death into her eyes. She reached towards John’s arms and ruffled through the backpack he was holding. She pulled out the gun, the horrific image of what was to come - it was there for everyone’s eyes to see.
“What are you planning to do with that?” asked Susan in a cocky tone. “Are you going to shoot us?”
“I’ll do what I have to do,” replied Jessica. “Just keep on driving until I say otherwise.”
Scott just nodded and sat in an awkward silence. There was tension in the air, an uneasy fury of emotions flooding the speechless interior of the inescapable surroundings. Scott had no idea what these kids had been plotting, or doing with their feeble lives. It seemed like a century ago when Scott talked with John in his office about going to therapy. Everything was well, or so the psychologist said. He had raised some suspicions at first, but the later sessions were recorded as beneficial, with great improvements, and he believed that the sociopath suspicion was a miss-diagnoses. It didn’t make any sense how such a harmless, good-willed child could just go to such hell. “John, what are your real plans? What have you been up to?” asked Scott, finally gaining the courage to interrogate. He couldn’t just let him run away without any explanation, and most importantly, Scott craved knowledge about his brother. He believed that John had something to do with it, or his demon girlfriend at least.
“Not allot, I just need a change of scenery”-
“You’re such a rotten liar.” Interrupted Chad, “why don’t you tell him what you’re really up to? Try to threaten him with your gun.”
Scott’s eyes were fixed on John and the fear of what he his real intentions were. He was terrified at the thought of being shot, having a lead bullet ripping through his flesh and cracking through the solid structure of bone. He could imagine it, and the fear of powerlessness that overtook him due to the defenceless state he was in. He had just wanted to help them get out of the snow.
“I don’t have a gun,” replied John. He rolled his eyes in denial, but the fear of the thought of being discovered was evident on his face. He gave a dirty stare to Chad and shook his head.
No one knew what to say. Scott thought that if he could put off the thoughts of dying and pretended that he didn’t suspect anything of them, he’d probably be safer.
“I’m telling you man, he has a gun. You should call the cops, this kid will kill you,” interrupted Chad once again, breaking the silence. He didn’t know what he was provoking, he believed John to be a pathetic gutless wimp who would never even be able to kill a deer, let alone a person, even if he had to. Chad had not really taken his situation that seriously, and John was starting to feel he may have to prove himself. Chad didn’t think he was in any real danger, even if John did manage to find a gun.
Scott started to fear his situation even more, and he could tell that Susan was also on edge. He felt responsible for what he had burdened her with, but they were forced to pull through that situation together and try to respond the best that they could. He indiscreetly pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it towards the outside door. He opened it and prayed that no one could see the green glow of the screen illuminating the side of his leg.
“What are you doing?” asked Jessica.
Scott looked back to see her big blue eyes glaring awkwardly at him. “I’m uh,” he stuttered fearfully, “I was just reading a text from my brother,” he lied. The thought of David flooded his thoughts, the memories they had together, and his realisation of loss sparked a sense of hate towards Jessica. John had become the devil because of her, destroying not just his own life, but everyone else’s around him. Scott felt certain that they had been associated with his brother’s murder, and he decided he’d feel safer letting the authorities take care of it, despite his past feelings of hope for John.
“Give me your phone,” she demanded.
Susan stopped the van on the side of the road and turned around. “Don’t you dare talk to him like that,” while she grabbed Jessica around the wrist in dominance.
Jessica pulled her arm violently from Susan’s grasp and glared death into her eyes. She reached towards John’s arms and ruffled through the backpack he was holding. She pulled out the gun, the horrific image of what was to come - it was there for everyone’s eyes to see.
“What are you planning to do with that?” asked Susan in a cocky tone. “Are you going to shoot us?”
“I’ll do what I have to do,” replied Jessica. “Just keep on driving until I say otherwise.”
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Who Would You Kill?
A friendly conversation between John and Jessica. A scene cut from my novel, 'A Step Over the Edge':
“Can he come?” she asked, holding me around my arm.
He shook his head and laughed, “Are you kidding me? It’s just you baby.”
I bit my lip, knowing that if he went any further that nothing was stopping me from destroying him. He didn’t have a gun or anything but the public display wouldn't be worth it.
“Sorry, us, or nothing.” she answered.
“Suit yourself.” he said, walking away thinking nothing of the situation.
We stood there, waiting for what felt like forever. I looked over at Jessica and noticed many other guys sneaking peeks at my treasure. Although it annoyed me, I found their interest in her flattering. I looked over at her and she stood close, resting her head on my shoulder. “Jessica,” I said, “if you could go back in time and kill anyone, who would it be?”
“That’s a good question.” she replied while twisting her fingered through her hair. She thought about it and answered, “If I killed the wrong person it could destroy the world. Imagine if I messed up the events of the bible, killed some president before her ever got the chance to become president – I could even stop the holocaust and prevent Hitler from butchering mass amounts of people.
“So who would you pick? It can only be one person.”
“I think I’d kill Shakespeare. Why not destroy who most people praise as the god of literature? I don’t get it, Shakespeare? Why would anybody want to waste their time reading some lame play that isn’t even that great? I guess beauty lies within the eye of the beholder, but I would be curious to see how things evolve without his literary influence.”
“Yeah, Shakespeare’s a good choice. You're genius.”
“Can he come?” she asked, holding me around my arm.
He shook his head and laughed, “Are you kidding me? It’s just you baby.”
I bit my lip, knowing that if he went any further that nothing was stopping me from destroying him. He didn’t have a gun or anything but the public display wouldn't be worth it.
“Sorry, us, or nothing.” she answered.
“Suit yourself.” he said, walking away thinking nothing of the situation.
We stood there, waiting for what felt like forever. I looked over at Jessica and noticed many other guys sneaking peeks at my treasure. Although it annoyed me, I found their interest in her flattering. I looked over at her and she stood close, resting her head on my shoulder. “Jessica,” I said, “if you could go back in time and kill anyone, who would it be?”
“That’s a good question.” she replied while twisting her fingered through her hair. She thought about it and answered, “If I killed the wrong person it could destroy the world. Imagine if I messed up the events of the bible, killed some president before her ever got the chance to become president – I could even stop the holocaust and prevent Hitler from butchering mass amounts of people.
“So who would you pick? It can only be one person.”
“I think I’d kill Shakespeare. Why not destroy who most people praise as the god of literature? I don’t get it, Shakespeare? Why would anybody want to waste their time reading some lame play that isn’t even that great? I guess beauty lies within the eye of the beholder, but I would be curious to see how things evolve without his literary influence.”
“Yeah, Shakespeare’s a good choice. You're genius.”
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
The Awakening
I should probably finish my first novel before moving on to the second, but I felt that I had a good idea and didn't want to lose it. This is the starting of what could possibly start into my new novel - it's about Dean's dissociation from reality. Enjoy.
It was like he was reborn as someone else when his eyes first opened. They adjusted to the lighting of the hospital bed, blinking, looking around nervously, and he didn’t recognise any of us. He stood up, while we were all shocked that he had finally come out of his four month coma and sank into his bed in fear of the familiar eyes that were staring at him. He wasn’t Dean any longer, not the friend that I remembered growing up with, but with his awakening he became a new person, and he developed a whole new set of ambitions and drives that had turned our town upside down. He re-learned everything as if he was a new born child trapped in a twenty-two year old body, and none of us mattered to him any longer. He pushed off, being one of the only souls trapped in this town to escape, but his destructive drive didn’t allow him to complete the goals he had always talked about.
I remember when we were in grade seven. We met for the first time at the bus stop for school. He introduced me to himself as Dean and I introduced myself, offered him a seat beside me. I found out he lived no further than a block away from me and crossing through the alley behind my house was all it took to give him a visit, so naturally our friendship seemed to grow inseparable. We grew up playing on our block with the neighbour kids, skateboarding, playing road hockey, riding bikes, and more often than not, finding ourselves in subtle mischief that always lead phone calls back to my parents. It was a great time, fantastic memories, but as we aged life seemed to split us in different directions.
We were both young adults trying to advance into our career fields. I became a bank teller with hopes of reaching management and he took his skills into the field of construction. We both met up regularly for drinks and conversation to catch up on things. He had a girlfriend whom he planned on proposing to, I had a long term affair myself, and everything seemed to be going good. We were advancing in life and the future looked promising, but the accident that had caused Dean to dissociate himself was the drawback to our plans. While in a coma, doctors were certain that the brain damage could never heal, he was going to be permanently handicapped, never able to have normal conversation ever again, and in a heat of emotions Jill, Dean’s girlfriend and fiancé left town and refused to be attached to a vegetable for the rest of her life.
It was a sad scene to witness and I felt truly sympathetic for everything that had been happening to Dean, but I promised that I wouldn’t abandon him when or if he ever became conscious of the world ever again. He was my friend, my best friend in fact, and I was determined to try and make his awakening to the world as smooth as I could. What I didn’t know was that a monster would wake from that coma, overtaking the the body of the best friend I had ever known, and turn the world I knew upside down.
It was like he was reborn as someone else when his eyes first opened. They adjusted to the lighting of the hospital bed, blinking, looking around nervously, and he didn’t recognise any of us. He stood up, while we were all shocked that he had finally come out of his four month coma and sank into his bed in fear of the familiar eyes that were staring at him. He wasn’t Dean any longer, not the friend that I remembered growing up with, but with his awakening he became a new person, and he developed a whole new set of ambitions and drives that had turned our town upside down. He re-learned everything as if he was a new born child trapped in a twenty-two year old body, and none of us mattered to him any longer. He pushed off, being one of the only souls trapped in this town to escape, but his destructive drive didn’t allow him to complete the goals he had always talked about.
I remember when we were in grade seven. We met for the first time at the bus stop for school. He introduced me to himself as Dean and I introduced myself, offered him a seat beside me. I found out he lived no further than a block away from me and crossing through the alley behind my house was all it took to give him a visit, so naturally our friendship seemed to grow inseparable. We grew up playing on our block with the neighbour kids, skateboarding, playing road hockey, riding bikes, and more often than not, finding ourselves in subtle mischief that always lead phone calls back to my parents. It was a great time, fantastic memories, but as we aged life seemed to split us in different directions.
We were both young adults trying to advance into our career fields. I became a bank teller with hopes of reaching management and he took his skills into the field of construction. We both met up regularly for drinks and conversation to catch up on things. He had a girlfriend whom he planned on proposing to, I had a long term affair myself, and everything seemed to be going good. We were advancing in life and the future looked promising, but the accident that had caused Dean to dissociate himself was the drawback to our plans. While in a coma, doctors were certain that the brain damage could never heal, he was going to be permanently handicapped, never able to have normal conversation ever again, and in a heat of emotions Jill, Dean’s girlfriend and fiancé left town and refused to be attached to a vegetable for the rest of her life.
It was a sad scene to witness and I felt truly sympathetic for everything that had been happening to Dean, but I promised that I wouldn’t abandon him when or if he ever became conscious of the world ever again. He was my friend, my best friend in fact, and I was determined to try and make his awakening to the world as smooth as I could. What I didn’t know was that a monster would wake from that coma, overtaking the the body of the best friend I had ever known, and turn the world I knew upside down.
Monday, February 21, 2011
A Second Chance
What would you do if you had a second chance? This is a section cut from my novel, 'A Step Over the Edge' read and enjoy!
We drove in complete silence for about a half hour until finding Scott and Susan’s van upside down in the ditch. The windows were all smashed from the vehicle crumpling down over it-self and it looked like there was little hope of any survival. I tried to imagine what could have happened in my head, the vehicle spinning out of control, catching friction after sliding sideways, and being thrown violently because of the speeds they were probably driving. I assumed it was because they had been speeding, trying to escape Jessica and me.
I took a deep breath before gaining the courage to take a look inside. They were both there, seat-belted in and moaning. They were bloody, hurt, and they were showing their pain through their groans, but most importantly, they were alive. Susan looked over slowly, realised who was staring at her and started screaming. “I’m going to die, please please, why couldn’t it have been anyone else...” She assumed that she was going to die, so she didn’t hold any of her opinions of me back. “You’re a monster! A Monster!” she screamed, “Please just let us die here alone in peace!”
I walked around the wreckage to the front passenger seat where Mr. Thompson had been seated. He looked at me from upside down in a fearful manner, but with more calmness than Susan had expressed. I’m sure he had the same ideas in his mind that Susan had, but he seemed to of lost the desire to care. “Listen Mr. Thompson,” I whispered. “You are not going to die, not here. You have treated me like a father, helped me out in times of trouble, and I truly do care about you. I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done, the pain that I caused, the horror. I’m sorry Mr. Thompson, please forgive me...” I begged for forgiveness, wanting him to see me how he always had before but it seemed hopeless.
We drove in complete silence for about a half hour until finding Scott and Susan’s van upside down in the ditch. The windows were all smashed from the vehicle crumpling down over it-self and it looked like there was little hope of any survival. I tried to imagine what could have happened in my head, the vehicle spinning out of control, catching friction after sliding sideways, and being thrown violently because of the speeds they were probably driving. I assumed it was because they had been speeding, trying to escape Jessica and me.
I took a deep breath before gaining the courage to take a look inside. They were both there, seat-belted in and moaning. They were bloody, hurt, and they were showing their pain through their groans, but most importantly, they were alive. Susan looked over slowly, realised who was staring at her and started screaming. “I’m going to die, please please, why couldn’t it have been anyone else...” She assumed that she was going to die, so she didn’t hold any of her opinions of me back. “You’re a monster! A Monster!” she screamed, “Please just let us die here alone in peace!”
I walked around the wreckage to the front passenger seat where Mr. Thompson had been seated. He looked at me from upside down in a fearful manner, but with more calmness than Susan had expressed. I’m sure he had the same ideas in his mind that Susan had, but he seemed to of lost the desire to care. “Listen Mr. Thompson,” I whispered. “You are not going to die, not here. You have treated me like a father, helped me out in times of trouble, and I truly do care about you. I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done, the pain that I caused, the horror. I’m sorry Mr. Thompson, please forgive me...” I begged for forgiveness, wanting him to see me how he always had before but it seemed hopeless.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Kyaking with a Kite
You have to check out this video I found on youtube. It is completely hilarious!
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