Tuninks
01-14-2008, 07:24 PM
Welcome to the City
Good evening and hello to all my fellow readers, I am sure you are curious to this story that I am writing for If you weren’t I believe that you would not be focused on this piece. We will not begin this story with a hero who awakens in a bleak environment. We will not be telling a story on a ravishingly beautiful woman who through my choice of words will seduce you. No, this, my friends will be something of a story about a place and a time long forgotten.
Now I’m sure you are wondering as to why I should write this writ of orchestrated word for a place long forgotten from lore and thought. The reason this is because it is a community of passionless life. Yes, these people whom are featured have forgotten their place in passion, but I assure you that you may find this interesting. A city of constant grays and mindless prattle, there is little to keep these people from actually pursuing happiness for without passion there is no quest for anything.
Now that our basic environment is present (if you cannot picture a city in your mind then I believe you are in need of cognitive and imagination training.) we will now introduce our character. Not a hero in any way because heroes actually do adventures and save damsels and get a lot of money, prestige and well you get the picture. We will not start at his birth because that he cannot remember; I will like to also point out that you would be in just as much of the dark as they are. His name is Max…
Another day, yet another lazy day for good ole’ Max as he awakens to a spinning fan that hovers above his head, slowly whirling in its simplistic motion. A green eye tracked this whirling contraption in dull amusement, as if it was always was what he opened his eyes too. His muscles constricted in refuse to him sitting up yet he urged them to cooperate. He now was sitting on his bed, eyes forward at the dark chestnut door that was ajar and sending a small beam of light from the hallway into his room.
He caught sight of his dresser, then the nightstand, which both were a matching wood of cherry or redwood. The blank white walls divulged that he either lacked a family and friends, as there were no photographs on the wall, or he as just too lazy to put them up in the first place. To tell you the truth the first one would be the correct choice. He stood and moved to the door, his fingers gripping the cold chestnut door and opening it to look down a hall void of color and décor.
What’s the point in trying? He asked himself as he dragged his feet down the void that was a hallway towards the bathroom. With a flick of a switch the lights popped once then came to life to allow him to see the opaque bathroom. He relieved himself of his waste (Do you really want to know?) and moved from the bathroom and down the hall once more.
He stared at the blank color and felt the beds of his feet press against cold wood. Yet in this brief instant of half-dazed/ half-confused state he felt in his belly what all people of this city desired to know. Why are his walls blank? Why does he not have a family or friends or memories or any known or showing of creative value? Where is the passion in his life? A question in deed to ask for in such a place he sought to know where or how he was going to gain that passion!
Passion, when defined it can save a life or, in fact, an entire civilization. Yet when a community state or small civilization such as his is lacking such a passion where can they turn? Such questions to ask and such questions that cannot be answered by anyone in that city which they dwelled there boring, nonsensical lives; or so they thought. Societies and civilizations change in the blink of an eye and as all civilizations do so change, so will this one…
Here he is, our hero, or lack there of, as he passes through street after street on his way to an uneventful day in a life unobstructed by adventure and emotion. Everyday he committed this ritual, yet he never understood why. He walked down what he understood was 2nd Park St and turned left onto Hermes Dr. His feet carried him past the town homes, around the pound and in front of a mechanic shop where there was always spilt oil that was never cleaned up. His eyes caught nothing of interest here, there or anywhere in fact as he continued this walk as if there were an objective. An objective… Define this for me my wonderful readers, as I know well that we will be coming across this very quickly. Now then, lets continue on our path of no objectiveness shall we?
The rough cement of the city streets cracked and shift to the weight of the cars, trucks, vans and people that traverse in there aimless amnesty towards another passionless day. Yet as the crowds flowed passed him, he could not do what his brain told him. It told him to keep walking, walk with the now crowd that gathered about and move with them as if they were in the same quest as he. He stood still in this crowded street with his eyes forward and as the crowd finally passed on like mindless cattle until it was empty.
He took in a breath as he was free of the mass of flesh and meat, his eyes closed, his mind screamed at him to fit, to mix and to go with the flow. His heart pulsed, pulsed, pulsed. Finally, as he tilted his head up to the cold, gray skies, metal plied with flesh. He felt nothing, his mind shut down. With a final pulse from his veins, his heart stopped…
Thump. Thump. Thump.
As if footsteps in the night.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The boogieman is coming for you. What an odd thought to come to mind as he lay on the smooth blacktop.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Can he hear a voice asking him something? Something like, “Are you alright? Are you dead? Should we poke him with stick?”
Yes, poke me with a stick. Wake me up from this passionless cattle farm.
“Umm, excuse me? Are you alright?” A woman’s voice, soft and sweet.
I just got hit by a large metal object what do you think?
He opened his eyes to a bright gray, of course it was bright gray, no sun, no warmth. Just cold. “Damn…”
“What?” the confusion was noted. Women…
“I wanted sunshine,” Max says as the blob over him begins to take shape into something more human.
“Umm, okay? Are you hurt?” Now worry, what’s with the emotion lady?
Can he feel his fingers? Yes. Can he feel his toes? Yes. Arms? Legs? Body? Yes, but God did he hurt! “Yeah, I’m fine…” Sarcasm intended of course.
“You just got hit by a van! You’re not fine!” Then why the Hell did you ask lady? He sat up but a hand pushed him back down onto the cement. Thud, not thump. Ouch. The slight human form revealed itself as a woman, black shoulder length hair, green eyes. Beauty never supplemented for intelligence…
Max again sat up and shook his head. He felt the ping of pain that was normally associated with a headache pass from one temple to the next. With that he closed his eyes and began to scream profanities but stopped. He held his tongue and kept his eyes closed. He let silence envelop him and tried to let the pain pass.
The graze of warm sunlight touched his skin.
His eyes opened as he felt as if his lungs had stopped functioning for hours. His lungs felt like fire, his head was in excruciating pain and to top it all off, the woman was screaming at the top of her lungs. All five senses were suddenly drowned in information as his mind shut down once again. In the last second all he could feel was a touch of sunlight upon his skin.
Again, his eyes opened to a blinding gray and his body was enveloped in a blanket of cold. He could not help but feel that there was not true escape from such a wretched place like this. Maybe he should jump off a building? Maybe he should jump in front of a bus this time. A van didn’t work, but a bus might do the trick for him. The room began to clarify before him, gray smooth walls, white tile floor and several machines were about a plain white bed. His arms were adorned with tubes, needles and meters that must be keeping him alive.
“You’re awake!” It was her again…
“Yup, I sure am, wait a minute. Why are you here?” Seriously lady, get a life.
“I was the one who called the ambulance for you,” that doesn’t explain why you are here lady. “Oh! My name is Tessa if you are curious.”
I’m not… Was the first thing to came to mind as she finished the sentence. “I’m not important, so why call an ambulance?”
“It seemed like the right thing to do,” she looked away as if disappointed. What, is she expecting a standing ovation or something?
“Well, thanks, you can go on about your life Tessa. I’m sure I’ll be able to continue my life now that I have fifteen drugs pumping through my system at once.” Such cold hearted statements, he was so going to Hell.
“Funny thing really… I’m your doctor.” She smiled the only smile really seen in these parts, a weak one.
Max blinked a few times as he found himself in a dilemma now. She was his doctor? Damn, perhaps he should ask her to pull the plug and put him out of his misery, he’s going to die from boredom or worse, annoyance if she’s his doctor. “Why would you want to be my doctor? Seriously, there are other patients worse than me.”
“You’re lucky to be alive Max,” she said as she stood and headed for the door.
“How do you know my name?” Now he’s asking dumb questions, she must be rubbing off on him.
“Oh, I took the liberty of checking your ID when you were asleep,” her voice had a slight charm to it. It didn’t help his boiling anger.
He had an urge, an urge he hadn’t felt, something that he had not felt in years. He closed his eyes as he felt this small pulse overcome his heart and he smiled.
“Oh! A smile from you finally? That’s a good thing, the drugs must be kicking in.” She said this as she began to exit the room. Yet in the instant the door shut, he knew what he must do. That small pulse was better than any drug he could ever try, that small pulse gave him life that he sought every day. He will act on this urge even though every ethical and moral code told him not to. He must kill Dr. Tessa…
(Feed back is a must!)
Good evening and hello to all my fellow readers, I am sure you are curious to this story that I am writing for If you weren’t I believe that you would not be focused on this piece. We will not begin this story with a hero who awakens in a bleak environment. We will not be telling a story on a ravishingly beautiful woman who through my choice of words will seduce you. No, this, my friends will be something of a story about a place and a time long forgotten.
Now I’m sure you are wondering as to why I should write this writ of orchestrated word for a place long forgotten from lore and thought. The reason this is because it is a community of passionless life. Yes, these people whom are featured have forgotten their place in passion, but I assure you that you may find this interesting. A city of constant grays and mindless prattle, there is little to keep these people from actually pursuing happiness for without passion there is no quest for anything.
Now that our basic environment is present (if you cannot picture a city in your mind then I believe you are in need of cognitive and imagination training.) we will now introduce our character. Not a hero in any way because heroes actually do adventures and save damsels and get a lot of money, prestige and well you get the picture. We will not start at his birth because that he cannot remember; I will like to also point out that you would be in just as much of the dark as they are. His name is Max…
Another day, yet another lazy day for good ole’ Max as he awakens to a spinning fan that hovers above his head, slowly whirling in its simplistic motion. A green eye tracked this whirling contraption in dull amusement, as if it was always was what he opened his eyes too. His muscles constricted in refuse to him sitting up yet he urged them to cooperate. He now was sitting on his bed, eyes forward at the dark chestnut door that was ajar and sending a small beam of light from the hallway into his room.
He caught sight of his dresser, then the nightstand, which both were a matching wood of cherry or redwood. The blank white walls divulged that he either lacked a family and friends, as there were no photographs on the wall, or he as just too lazy to put them up in the first place. To tell you the truth the first one would be the correct choice. He stood and moved to the door, his fingers gripping the cold chestnut door and opening it to look down a hall void of color and décor.
What’s the point in trying? He asked himself as he dragged his feet down the void that was a hallway towards the bathroom. With a flick of a switch the lights popped once then came to life to allow him to see the opaque bathroom. He relieved himself of his waste (Do you really want to know?) and moved from the bathroom and down the hall once more.
He stared at the blank color and felt the beds of his feet press against cold wood. Yet in this brief instant of half-dazed/ half-confused state he felt in his belly what all people of this city desired to know. Why are his walls blank? Why does he not have a family or friends or memories or any known or showing of creative value? Where is the passion in his life? A question in deed to ask for in such a place he sought to know where or how he was going to gain that passion!
Passion, when defined it can save a life or, in fact, an entire civilization. Yet when a community state or small civilization such as his is lacking such a passion where can they turn? Such questions to ask and such questions that cannot be answered by anyone in that city which they dwelled there boring, nonsensical lives; or so they thought. Societies and civilizations change in the blink of an eye and as all civilizations do so change, so will this one…
Here he is, our hero, or lack there of, as he passes through street after street on his way to an uneventful day in a life unobstructed by adventure and emotion. Everyday he committed this ritual, yet he never understood why. He walked down what he understood was 2nd Park St and turned left onto Hermes Dr. His feet carried him past the town homes, around the pound and in front of a mechanic shop where there was always spilt oil that was never cleaned up. His eyes caught nothing of interest here, there or anywhere in fact as he continued this walk as if there were an objective. An objective… Define this for me my wonderful readers, as I know well that we will be coming across this very quickly. Now then, lets continue on our path of no objectiveness shall we?
The rough cement of the city streets cracked and shift to the weight of the cars, trucks, vans and people that traverse in there aimless amnesty towards another passionless day. Yet as the crowds flowed passed him, he could not do what his brain told him. It told him to keep walking, walk with the now crowd that gathered about and move with them as if they were in the same quest as he. He stood still in this crowded street with his eyes forward and as the crowd finally passed on like mindless cattle until it was empty.
He took in a breath as he was free of the mass of flesh and meat, his eyes closed, his mind screamed at him to fit, to mix and to go with the flow. His heart pulsed, pulsed, pulsed. Finally, as he tilted his head up to the cold, gray skies, metal plied with flesh. He felt nothing, his mind shut down. With a final pulse from his veins, his heart stopped…
Thump. Thump. Thump.
As if footsteps in the night.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The boogieman is coming for you. What an odd thought to come to mind as he lay on the smooth blacktop.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Can he hear a voice asking him something? Something like, “Are you alright? Are you dead? Should we poke him with stick?”
Yes, poke me with a stick. Wake me up from this passionless cattle farm.
“Umm, excuse me? Are you alright?” A woman’s voice, soft and sweet.
I just got hit by a large metal object what do you think?
He opened his eyes to a bright gray, of course it was bright gray, no sun, no warmth. Just cold. “Damn…”
“What?” the confusion was noted. Women…
“I wanted sunshine,” Max says as the blob over him begins to take shape into something more human.
“Umm, okay? Are you hurt?” Now worry, what’s with the emotion lady?
Can he feel his fingers? Yes. Can he feel his toes? Yes. Arms? Legs? Body? Yes, but God did he hurt! “Yeah, I’m fine…” Sarcasm intended of course.
“You just got hit by a van! You’re not fine!” Then why the Hell did you ask lady? He sat up but a hand pushed him back down onto the cement. Thud, not thump. Ouch. The slight human form revealed itself as a woman, black shoulder length hair, green eyes. Beauty never supplemented for intelligence…
Max again sat up and shook his head. He felt the ping of pain that was normally associated with a headache pass from one temple to the next. With that he closed his eyes and began to scream profanities but stopped. He held his tongue and kept his eyes closed. He let silence envelop him and tried to let the pain pass.
The graze of warm sunlight touched his skin.
His eyes opened as he felt as if his lungs had stopped functioning for hours. His lungs felt like fire, his head was in excruciating pain and to top it all off, the woman was screaming at the top of her lungs. All five senses were suddenly drowned in information as his mind shut down once again. In the last second all he could feel was a touch of sunlight upon his skin.
Again, his eyes opened to a blinding gray and his body was enveloped in a blanket of cold. He could not help but feel that there was not true escape from such a wretched place like this. Maybe he should jump off a building? Maybe he should jump in front of a bus this time. A van didn’t work, but a bus might do the trick for him. The room began to clarify before him, gray smooth walls, white tile floor and several machines were about a plain white bed. His arms were adorned with tubes, needles and meters that must be keeping him alive.
“You’re awake!” It was her again…
“Yup, I sure am, wait a minute. Why are you here?” Seriously lady, get a life.
“I was the one who called the ambulance for you,” that doesn’t explain why you are here lady. “Oh! My name is Tessa if you are curious.”
I’m not… Was the first thing to came to mind as she finished the sentence. “I’m not important, so why call an ambulance?”
“It seemed like the right thing to do,” she looked away as if disappointed. What, is she expecting a standing ovation or something?
“Well, thanks, you can go on about your life Tessa. I’m sure I’ll be able to continue my life now that I have fifteen drugs pumping through my system at once.” Such cold hearted statements, he was so going to Hell.
“Funny thing really… I’m your doctor.” She smiled the only smile really seen in these parts, a weak one.
Max blinked a few times as he found himself in a dilemma now. She was his doctor? Damn, perhaps he should ask her to pull the plug and put him out of his misery, he’s going to die from boredom or worse, annoyance if she’s his doctor. “Why would you want to be my doctor? Seriously, there are other patients worse than me.”
“You’re lucky to be alive Max,” she said as she stood and headed for the door.
“How do you know my name?” Now he’s asking dumb questions, she must be rubbing off on him.
“Oh, I took the liberty of checking your ID when you were asleep,” her voice had a slight charm to it. It didn’t help his boiling anger.
He had an urge, an urge he hadn’t felt, something that he had not felt in years. He closed his eyes as he felt this small pulse overcome his heart and he smiled.
“Oh! A smile from you finally? That’s a good thing, the drugs must be kicking in.” She said this as she began to exit the room. Yet in the instant the door shut, he knew what he must do. That small pulse was better than any drug he could ever try, that small pulse gave him life that he sought every day. He will act on this urge even though every ethical and moral code told him not to. He must kill Dr. Tessa…
(Feed back is a must!)