Stake - Cow_Trix

[cow_trix]

Hey guys, this is my first post here, so I'm looking for some critiques and harsh words about how I can improve :) I hope to continue this story in this thread further. Anyway, enjoy!


When I was seven , I tried to fly. It was early summer. I climbed a lattice leaning against the outer wall and onto the hot ceramic tiles. I had gotten the idea into my head the way most seven year olds do, with television. I had been watching Superman. Clark Kent had been standing there, villain conquered and innocents saved.

There had been this crowd, standing there, just looking it him with this expression of admiration. He reassured them that everything was going to be fine, that the day was saved. He looked up towards the sky, raised his fist, and soared away.

I was too young to understand much of those shows, but I understood those expressions. It was that expression that drove me to the precipice. I thought if I could fly, people might look at me that way.

The doctor said I might never recover. Three inches of searing hot wood splintered up into my forehead and into my brain.

Headaches. Headaches like a chisel splitting my skull into half, headaches that made me scream, bash my head against the wall and thrash in such exquisite agony. That was something they could explain.

A few days after the accident, I was wandering around the hospital room. I remember a man in a wheelchair was being pushed by two nurses past the door, and I stopped to look at them pass me. It was like someone had come and stuck a straw in that man's body, and just sucked all the juice out of it. He was a shell of what he had been.

I didn't even see him leap at me. All of a sudden I was on the ground, his snarling, broken face screaming at me. I felt snot and spit hit me, as he screamed and screamed. And I was not afraid. I was not angry. I was not even really ****ing happy.

I was nothing.

I am nothing.

When they pulled that piece of wood out of my skull they took something with it. Something everyone else has. So I have come to hate smiling faces, and tears, and frowns, and screams of rage. Because they are all something I will never have. I could kill a man and not blink an eye. I could kill a billion and not blink an eye.

How about six?



edit: You guys got a swear filter, huh? Oh well. There is going to be a bit of foul language in this though.

[cow_trix]

No one? Anyone? A blank reply would be appreciated...

[Captain Pike]

There were a couple places in there where the, what?, past-perfect tense? is used, along with the simple past. Perhaps it's correct, when talking about a TV show in the past. No biggie.
I think a lot of us are intrigued with the idea that we, for some reason, are somehow unique -- having certain problems/issues all to ourselves which nobody else shares. So the idea of a guy, through a little bit of barroom surgery, actually has a missing piece of his prefrontal lobe, is bound to be interesting -- it was for me.
And just one more thing. I actually hesitate a half a second in writing this. Regarding the swear filter: I too was taken aback, when I saw the little asterisks appearing in my precious work. How could they dare to allow a computer program edit my text? But, I challenge you to try to find an adjective that actually gives meaning to your work. I think a lot of swearing, vulgarity, especially when USED OUTSIDE OF DIALOGUE, will tend to date your work.
They say, "you spot it, you got it", and it is true for me, because I've had some trouble with both things I have mentioned here: I often drift in and out out the present tense. There are times when it makes sense. But with me, it happens sometimes when I go back to a piece and began to work on it again.
Sometimes, I tend to use vulgarity to "spruce up" a bit of dragging dialogue. I guess the idea of being, that I would wake the reader up, some kind of ridiculous thinking like that. The truth is, I'm a newcomer, a beginner in this field, I have some insecurity, hell, (see, I did it again) I even do it in real life, in certain circles, to better "fit in". Can you imagine?
It might work, or myself personally, isn't interesting enough on its own, putting some f-u's in there, ain't gonna fix nothing!
You're in the right place, keep working,
_P.

[cow_trix]

Thanks for the reply. Here's a quick update:



"What?"

"You heard me."

"Oh wow. Dude, you've had some out-there stuff pop into your brain-train oc-cassionally but this is the top."

Bean's crazy eyes flinched every few seconds. A side affect from his daddy taking a bottle to his skull when he was three. He fidgeted, and it seemed like there was an incredible energy around him, like at any moment he might jump up and run a mile or two. Those crazy eyes peered over a large, hooked nose that constantly ran all over his chequered shirt.

"This is the top. Ain't no one gonna top this one. This is bea-beautiful, indeedy it is."

"I want your help."

Bean looked apprehensive. He was stupid, but he knew the lay of the land, I'd give him that. "I dunno, dude, there's a lot of blue-collared, honest working types who'd wanna throw a spanner into your works. What if they stick me back inside, huh?"

"Then you'll be back inside. But not for long."

Bean jumped out of his chair, and did his crazy little jive over to the window. "I guess you hit the nail ona head with that one, dude." He seemed to consider something for a minute, and then turned to me.

"Do I get some toys?"

He was in.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."