Hold Fast

[BookBeauty]

Neil felt as if he was waiting for something to happen.

This feeling trickled into his awareness slowly, like a bead of sweat trailing down his shoulder blades. It began as something easy to ignore. He went about his daily activities letting it drift somewhere in the recesses of his mind. But, it was always coming to the forefront.

It was like a slight itch, exposing extremities to a bitter cold, or a muscle cramp. The more he paid attention to it, the stronger the sensation became.

His routine was to blame. Like many others, he had become lost in repetition. Inevitable awareness emerged, like a blush making way for a bruise. And the mounting frustration became almost too much to bear.

He wasn't living an unexciting life. In truth, Neil was incredibly happy. But, somehow it wasn't good enough. Somehow, he needed more. As many had before him, he was thirsty for what he didn't have, even though he didn't know what that was.

It all came to a crescendo in the middle of his lecture on molecular biology. He had his notes beside him on a large desk in the center of the platform, but he never read from them. His material was fascinating enough in his opinion, and he noticed that the students were more engaged when he showed his enthusiasm without papers blockading him from them.

Neil stood in the back of a large room, much like the half of a Colosseum. He was in the pit, while the onlookers were not quite as engaged in the material as they might have been in ancient Rome. The problem was the heat. Because the University was being remodeled, they had removed the integrated air conditioning for replacement.

Being mid-July, the consequences were not surprising.

Inside, and outside of the lecture hall, students moved in great drowsy, irritable throngs. The heat made tempers easy to ignite, and attention was difficult to cultivate. The room he lectured in was sweltering with a warmth so thick that he could have sworn it was visible. The small crowd he had earned were fanning themselves with their notes, shifting constantly in heat-induced discomfort and impatience.

There was one student, Rob, that sat in the very front row by himself.

He was... Hefty. Rolls of his flab tucked into and out of the creases of a golf shirt. It was lime green. With vertical, black stripes. Rob grinned up at him encouragingly, a large pea-sized sweat droplet suddenly slipping down over his lips. He licked them, and leaned back languidly, as if he were enjoying the finest opera.

Neil tried not to look for too long. And he tried not to let the other, more impatient students, curb his own enthusiasm for his life's work.

''… And what a treasure the genome is!'' His lecture was reaching his denouement, Neil's favourite part, when he would illuminate.

''Where would we be without the debate that has been going on for decades-- Nature versus nurture? A collection of all of your genetic history, bound together, against the very real and very immediate tangible environs that shape us every single day. They wrap together in a cohesive bond, and form what we call the individual. But, are we all so different? Or can the 'individual' variables, in fact, be predicted?'' He was so excited that his lanky, luckless frame began to quiver, as his hand, clutching a small remote, swung out towards the projection on the wall. He clicked the button for the next slide.

The drum roll was booming in Neil's head.

And then the impossible occurred.

Nothing.

And the projection stayed frozen that way.

Nothing at all.

Unless you were to notice the sudden silence that could cause an ear drum to rupture. He was frozen, unexpectedly embarrassed. Someone coughed.

And then, in the middle of the lecture hall, he heard a groaning, hissed whisper.

''I hate this teacher. He's so boring. I wish he'd just give us the hand-outs. I wanna get home, and then we're going out to a party tonight, it's gonna be so awesome,''

He flinched from the remark as if burned, and the sensation that had plagued him for months was blaring, and roaring in his head. His will strained against nameless thoughts and feelings that he had placed ever-so-carefully behind mental bars, and tied away in shackles.

Then, a few things happened at once.

The lights flickered, and then faded into a coal blackness that pressed the heat down upon them all.

And the double doors at the top of the room burst open, banging heavily against the walls.

[odliam]

Neil felt as if he was waiting for something to happen.

This feeling trickled into his awareness slowly, like a bead of sweat trailing down his shoulder blades. It began as something easy to ignore. He went about his daily activities letting it drift somewhere in the recesses of his mind. But, it was always coming to the forefront.

---------- clipping ------------------

Then, a few things happened at once.

The lights flickered, and then faded into a coal blackness that pressed the heat down upon them all.

And the double doors at the top of the room burst open, banging heavily against the walls.


Beautiful!!

I am not as good as you in reviewing, and your text is haunting enough in itself!

I would not like to look at the banging doors!!

Maybe, as a tribute to your creativity I may suggest to end the last sentence with an ellipsis... :smile5:

¬O.

[Jack of Hearts]

This is exceptional.









J

[BookBeauty]

------
When the lights flickered and came back, a young woman in a solid red dress suit was standing at the double doors that swung closed behind her.

All heads in their seats had turned to look at the disturbance, and soon were chattering amongst themselves, a collective humming sound churning through the large lecture theatre.

The click-clack of her heels rose against the nocturne as she delicately made her way down to where Neil stood, addressing him with a well-groomed eyebrow arched, and dark hazel eyes that were almost golden. She produced a folder of some type, thrusting it into his hands, and walking back to sit down beside Rob, who had, in the chaos, decided to use the chair beside him as a foot rest. In the manner of the morbidly obese, he awkwardly hefted himself back into an upright position, placing his feet solidly on the ground. Rob grinned at the woman in the dress suit with the same enthusiasm that had only minutes before been the subject of Neil's lecture.

Neil placed the folder on the desk beside him. This was his lecture time, and he would read it afterwards.

To his relief, he had no need to find a mechanic to fix the overhead projector, as the slides seemed to be working again. But, as he continued his lecture, the sensation that had only just reached its apparent climax had been replaced by an irritatingly urgent curiosity about the contents of the folder.

His hands itched to open it, and his eye suffered a tremor that betrayed his thirst to read it. He ambled through his lecture in a desperate, haphazard effort.

The young lady that had stepped into his lecture hall was clearly not a student. In her close observation of the lecture and her apparent interest, she simply couldn't be.

And when the lecture had finally reached its conclusion, the students lifted from their seats simultaneously, piling out of the room in a slow, shuffling way that reminded Neil of the conclusion of a sermon, or the living dead films of yore.

He wasn't surprised to see that the lady in the red dress hadn't vacated her seat. In fact, she was more than eager to approach him, stepping carefully up onto the center platform.

''A brilliant lecture, Dr. Wellstone. Simply riveting. Although, I imagine that your superiors cannot be too pleased with discussing theoretical practices with your students.'' Her voice flowed too smoothly, her disposition, a poised coolness that could temper any rage.

As he lifted the folder from his desk in a slow, haunted manner, he was suddenly hesitant to open it. The woman was only watching him, perhaps deciding that she need say no more before he had read the contents.

When he opened it and began to read, he suddenly needed to sit down. He did so, brusquely, as a chair was fortunately close at hand.

''There must be some kind of mistake,'' his voice escaped his throat airily, without tone. His mouth was suddenly very dry.

''I'm afraid there isn't. You're quite a dangerous man, Dr. Wellstone, and my superiors intend that you are put in the proper place,'' she folded her hands neatly at her waist, a slight smile that tinged of smugness, and mirth. Her accentuation of the word was a comical one.

He looked at the page again, and there was no mistake. They were government pages, with words as clear as an eviction notice. Neil had been bought, and was being transferred. To Alaska.

He felt a mingling of emotions ranging from dread, to remorse, indignation and finally, and most surprisingly, comfort. Relief.

''I assure you that it's not as terrible as it sounds. You won't be giving lectures anymore,'' she paused, considering, ''At least not for payment, or to find placement elsewhere.''

It was his turn to surprise her.

''When do I start?''

-----

Thank you for the praise, odliam! This is a very tentative effort on my part, as I'm trying to shuffle my way into writing consistently again. Although I usually take suggestions to heart, I'm not going to give my last line an ellipses because it would, to me, disturb the continuation of the story. :)

And very much thanks to you as well, J. I couldn't ask for a kinder sentiment.

[odliam]

Oh, right!

You are adding a twist to the tale giving it in installments :smile5:

True to my own feelings (I cannot wait to know the end of a story), I assumed it ended there with a lot for the reader to think about!
Of course, in this case a ellipsis would be out of context with the following development of the action.

Looking forward for new situations in Alaska, if any!

¬O.

[Steven Hunley]

I read the first part of this and was dismayed. The writing was good, but I felt I was taken some place without reason. I had the feeling I'd missed the turn off or something, like there was no final destination.

But... It's a continuation! I understand continuations!

Now I can say what I felt all along.

First rate.

[smerdyakov]

Hi. Although the writing itself is solid, I can't help feeling this is kind of nothing story. By that I mean nothing really happens. There is more to come I suppose but the story just moves a bit too slow for me.
I think you write some good descriptive passages but, unfortunately, they don't mean a lot as the plot drags along too slowly and the MC is not fleshed out in any meaningful sort of way for the reader to become very curious about. I would be interested to read more of it, all the same, as I like your writing style. :)

[BookBeauty]

The inside of the plane smelled of lemon, and air conditioning. Neil faintly remembered an argument he had with a co-worker about being able to smell air conditioning. He had been accused of being anal-retentive. Even as he sat in the body-contouring, pillowy leather seat, entitled to him by his first-class ticket, a flare of annoyance seized his throat like bile at the memory. The irritation was a sharp, yet welcome contrast to his other emotions.

Because he had brought few belongings with him, he had to occupy himself with insubstantial thoughts to mitigate the rising tide of excitement that threatened to wash his senses away. He despised being overwhelmed, and prized clarity of thought. Even so, he relished the prospects that had been laid out for him. Something new. A challenge. It was exactly what he needed.

The woman in the red dress suit, Monica Charles, had given him a briefing on his new job. He would be working with a lab team at,''Progress Initiatives,'' a government-owned scientific research company.

The work was classified, and she hadn't been authorized to explain much more than that he would be helping to prevent a pandemic from occurring. That was good enough for Neil. He gripped his seat with a new-found fervor, as turbulence rippled against the sides of the plane.

''You don't fly much, do you?'' the voice was of a little girl, that occupied the seat across the aisle. She looked at him seriously, her long blonde pigtails resting against a pink cotton shirt.

He shook his head, and she smiled.

''Don't worry! It's just like this, and then it gets better. It never stays like that. I was scared too, first couple-of-times,'' she looked restless, as children often are when left to their own devices. Neil was an adult that had decided not to ignore her, so she immediately latched onto him attentively.

''My name's Ashley. I don't really like going to 'Laska, but my mom likes the flowers. She says they're as pretty as my eyes!''

Neil smiled.

''Mothers always know best,'' he said.

Silence was not a virtue often practiced by the youth, and so Ashley didn't wait long to jump onto the next subject.

''Why are you going to Alaska?'' her bright blue eyes, wide and accepting, struck him as the very reason he wanted to go into teaching. He wondered if he really should have left.

''I was teaching molecular biology at a University,'' he began, not used to speaking to young children, ''It's a science,'' he added.

''Yeah, I know! It sounds very scientific.'' Ashley nodded sagely, in a manner she must have noticed when adults were having serious conversations around her.

''Then, I decided that I needed to do something more. I wanted to create something, or be apart of something, instead of just talking. Do you understand?''

''Yaaah. If you were talking all the time, it's gotta get boring. All adults do: Talk, talk, talk,'' she rolled her eyes and then smiled. ''Want to see this picture I drew?'' Without waiting for a reply, she passed him a small piece of paper. It was a marker-drawing of a couple of ladders, with fanciful lines sprouting from them, and a triangle in the top left corner with a little stick figure inside.

''See, the ladders, they can take you some place. Anywhere you want. A magical place. And, like... This?'' she pointed to the triangle, with the stick man, ''It's you... You're always gonna be who you wanna be, you know?'' She smiled proudly. Though he didn't entirely understand her insight, he smiled along with her, charmed.

The rest of the plane trip was less turbulent, as the girl had said, and the landing was a smooth one. When the plane had finished landing, a woman, who must have been Ashley's mother, took the young girl's hand and pulled her along the aisle. Ashley looked back at Neil with a little wave before being escorted away in the rushed line.

When Neil walked along the airport tunnel into the interior, he immediately spotted a large white card with his name written in black marker. Monica Charles, her dark brunette hair pinned into a sophisticated bun, and wearing a navy dress suit this time, was standing beside the sign. The man underneath it was a wiry, thin creature, with a long face that reminded Neil vaguely of a weasel's.

''Welcome to Anchorage, Alaska, Dr. Wellstone!'' The little man grinned impishly and shook the sign as Neil approached.

''Thank you. I'm at a loss...''

''Oh! I'm George Finn. Just call me George. Georgie, G, whatever. I know the science-types like to talk official-like, but I'm easy. I'm just the driver, though, so keep your eyes on these guys,'' he looked over at Monica and winked.

Neil smiled uncertainly, and Monica remained stoic despite George's cheer.

''The lab is located on the outskirts of a little district called Meadow Lakes. It's a little over an hour drive, and you're probably going to want to get set up as soon as possible. Let's go,'' Monica began walking without waiting for them. George looked up at Neil with a grin, and a shrug, as if to say, 'Women'.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Should I be writing 'to be continued'? Anyway, a portion of the little girl's conversation with Neil was taken from someone's experience in a blog. I doubt I'll make any money off of this, but if I do, I'm more than willing to share the proceeds from the source. :P

odliam, Thanks for your continuous support, and I apologize for any confusion that my first installment might have caused. :) It seems you were not alone!

Steven Hunley I am especially honoured. Thank you.

smerdyakov Hello! I completely understand what you mean, and your insight is not lost on this story.

In fact, your comment gave me the drive I needed to complete an outline, so I actually have direction and know where this piece is going. It certainly was a nothing story, but I think now, hopefully, it will be something. :)

This is very exciting and auspicious for me. I'm not sure if I should go back and add, or subtract things yet, to flesh out the characters more. I'm hoping that subsequent passages will offer more personality to the subjects at hand. I suppose I'll see as I go along :)

[AuntShecky]

I will try to remember to come back to read this when you've finished.

[Hawkman]

I too, will hold off on giving a detaile response to this story until it appears to have been concluded. I will however mention a couple of things which stand out as clangers to the reader. Try to avoid awkward repetitions in sentences and paragraphs:

"His routine was to blame. Like many others, he had become lost in a habitual, routinely haze."

This doesn't quite make sense. You appear to have edited the description of the crowd of students in their "...drowsey, irritable delirium." It's better now, but I'm not sure delirium is appropriate.

Oh, and I don't think you actually meant nocturn, not unless there is a concert in the lecture theatre ;) A tip for proof reading: work backwards, that way you are forced to read what you've actually written and don't sublimate your original intentions into the page.

Keep it up.

Live and be well - H

[BookBeauty]

Neil was offered the passenger seat. He accepted after a brief dispute over whether the lady should go first. George had joked that, being a 'science-type', he was more than lady enough for the privilege.

Unruffled, as they drove he took in the sights of his new home. Flat grasslands with white flowers mingled with pink-coned blossoms. In the distance, great mountains billowed and rose like clouds, the ease of their ascent, and quiet power, was something that Neil had never seen on the plain, unchanging countryside of New York state.

The mountain peaks, dipped in white, touched mist and clouds that couldn't be called clouds at all, but were akin to steam. He thought of the wonders that the mountains could evoke, the visions that they could inspire. The reason for gathering scientists there was clear to him, then. This untouched land was the mother that would birth miracles from the minds of men.

When they arrived, he was taken aback by the size, and the 'cleanness' of the facility. Shining glass slid into cold metal, its design both simple, angular and square, against a contrasting glaring blue of the sky. The architects and builders had clearly been given the task of function over design.

And as Neil was lead into the building, his impression remained unblemished by the simplicity of his surroundings. There were no paintings on the white, crisp walls, and no statues or monuments to please the eye. It was oddly peaceful.

''The director is on the 3rd floor. Take that elevator there, and after you speak with him, you can begin your work,'' Monica spoke with a briskness that followed her pace as she whirled, heels clacking sharply down a side corridor.

Left on his own, Neil paused for a moment. With a word from someone he had never met, he could be sent home again, back to his tired regimen. Fear crept in. Preceded by doubt, it was the kind of dread that made an imprint in the unknown. Trying to outrun, or offset it, he exploded into the elevator, and firmly thumbed the '3' on the panel by the elevator doors.

The thirty odd seconds that it took for the elevator to reach its destination stretched by long enough for Neil to study himself in the elevator mirrors. He combed nervous fingers through his mouse-brown hair that had been mussed by the long trip.

The steel doors slid open, and Neil stepped through into a large office. The whiteness of the room was interrupted by promotional Star Wars posters. A couple of shelves along the walls displayed superhero knick-knacks, trading cards, and comic books.

At the back wall, sitting in a large, luxury black office chair, sat the director. He was painting small figurines on a board game that took up his entire glass desk. Incredulous, Neil nearly stepped back into the elevator, as the director grinned up at him. The director was wearing a lime-green golf shirt. With vertical black stripes.

''Rob!?'' Neil spluttered.


---------------------------------

To be continued!

AuntShecky Thanks. It'll get there eventually. =)

Hawkman Thank you very much! I tried to go in and fix that which you've pointed out. I can see more clearly when it's shown under a light, how it causes disruption in the narrative. :) A trait of mine as a writer is repetition and over-wordliness (I am a word maker-upper too). It always helps to have more eyes on a piece.

[BookBeauty]

''It's good to see you, too, Neil! But, in public, do you think you could call me Mr. Greene? It's just a formality, of course.'' Rob began putting away his toys with a cheerful smile.

''What are you doing here?'' Neil asked, still dumbfounded. The nervousness he had felt only moments before had dissolved into shock.

''Sorry to say this, Neil, but I was actually spying on you. Just a little bit. This is my day job. Pretty sweet, right?'' He opened a drawer and pulled out what looked like a flaky pastry, complete with stripes of white icing drizzle.

''I agreed to personally make sure you were a worthwhile candidate. But, let's get down to business, shall we?'' He sunk crooked teeth into the pastry. Crumbs tumbled and spewed out, to which Rob didn't appear to notice.

With his other hand, grub-like fingers pawed out a small stack of papers from the desk, which he set on his board game, and pushed towards Neil. A small fragment of pastry flicked onto the top of the stack, and Rob, with an apologetic look, swiped it off with the offending hand as he chewed vigorously.

After swallowing, he proceeded.

''We're going to need you to sign these release papers, but I guess you'd like to know a little more about what you'll be doing here,'' he placed the pastry down onto the board, sipping from a glass of dark brown, bubbly liquid.

''It's a matter of national security. We're concerned that China and Russia are planning something, and they've sent a 'test run' to Washington,'' Rob began to cough on his pastry, drinking more of the sinister-looking liquid, and sighing appreciatively.

''Anyway... We're worried about biological warfare, Neil. We have a few of the affected, for you to run tests on, and try to identify and counter. Normally I'd say that you should get some sleep, but honestly? The sooner you can join the team, the better. When you hit the first floor, Nancy will meet up with you and show you to your room. You'll need a clear head for what's to come,''

As Neil signed the papers and made his way back down to the first floor, true to his word,a bouncy-curled blonde was grinning energetically at him as the doors opened.

Too tired to even return the sentiment, he followed her down a series of corridors that lead to what looked like the inside of an apartment complex, only much cleaner, and much more orderly.

''Here we are! Room 8. Feel free to move things around and decorate as you like! And if you need anything at all, there's a panel by the door and you can buzz me. I'm either number 2, or they might've put my name on the button, finally,'' she joked, giggling. Suddenly, a buzzing sound, coming from her long skirt pocket shot out, causing Neil to jump.

''Oops! Sorry.'' Nancy slipped her slight hand into her pocket to pull out what looked like an ipod-cell phone hybrid. ''Looks like room 23 needs new light bulbs again! Take care, Neil.'' As quickly as she had swooped in, she was gone.

He went into the room and closed the door behind him with an audible clicking sound. The room was as white and uniform as the rest of the facility, but the enormous double-bed was music to his eyes.

He fell into it like water falling into a parched throat.

[smerdyakov]

Hi. You do a good job in driving the plot forward in 4 and 5, but compared to the first two sections I just found it all a bit bit ho-hum. The descriptive quality of the first parts just isn't there in 4 and 5. Also, the whole cold-war plot thing is total cliche, and I groaned when I read it to be honest. Hopefully you can turn a corner with this one, and pull it out of the fire.

[BookBeauty]

Honestly, I may just give up on it, smerdyakov. =)

I get ideas, but never get to follow through and finish them. I have the outline, but the fire's lost. The last two parts obviously show the diminished quality and passion. I could push through to the end, but maybe I should wait until I get that fire back, or somehow acquire it again.

My greatest struggle as a writer: Holding the muse.

I have a lot of fresh, exciting starts, but have difficulty taking them to the end.